Rising With My Mystic Power

THE UNFORBIDDEN TRUTH

The footsteps grew louder, each strike of the boot echoing down the spiral staircase. Mordaine’s heart hammered in his chest. He quickly shut the book, though he hadn’t even opened it, and stepped back from the pedestal.

The flame inside him flickered restlessly, as though urging him to fight, to flee, to do something.

The air shifted as the newcomer entered the chamber.

A slender figure stepped into the blue torchlight. Cloak swaying, golden hair catching the glow Lyra.

Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Mordaine?”

He froze. His throat felt dry. “I—”

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing around the chamber. Her gaze landed on The Forgotten Flame and lingered there with unsettling familiarity. “Do you even realize where you stand?”

Mordaine swallowed hard. “I… was searching for answers.”

Lyra’s voice dropped to a near whisper, her tone sharper now. “This place is forbidden for a reason. These are not teachings they are warnings. If the Masters find you down here, they’ll cast you out. Or worse.”

Her words landed heavy, but something in her eyes betrayed more than fear. Knowledge. Secrets. She knew more than she let on.

“Then why are you here?” Mordaine asked carefully.

Lyra stiffened. For a heartbeat, her composure cracked, and uncertainty flickered across her face.

“That’s none of your concern,” she said at last, too quickly.

Mordaine studied her, the weight of Seraphael’s warning still pressing on him. The Academy is not the safe haven it pretends to be.

“Lyra…” His voice was quieter now. “You knew about this place, didn’t you? You’ve been down here before.”

She didn’t answer. Her gaze locked onto him, sharp and conflicted, before she stepped closer, lowering her voice further.

“If you value your life, forget what you’ve seen,” she whispered. “And forget me being here.”

The sound of more footsteps echoed faintly from above. Multiple voices now.

Lyra’s eyes widened. She grabbed Mordaine’s wrist, her grip surprisingly strong. “No time. Follow me.”

She pulled him toward the far end of the vault, where the torchlight dimmed into near darkness.

There, half-hidden by shadow, stood a second archway its surface etched with faint runes that pulsed in rhythm with Mordaine’s heartbeat.

“It leads outside,” Lyra muttered. “But only if—” She glanced at him, hesitation flickering. “Only if the flame in you recognizes the way.”

Mordaine stared at the arch. The runes glowed brighter the closer he stepped, the heat in his chest rising until it filled his limbs like molten fire.

Behind them, the heavy boots descended faster. Voices barked orders. They were seconds away from discovery.

“Do it!” Lyra urged.

Mordaine reached toward the archway. The flame roared inside him, and the runes blazed white-hot.The stone shimmered, tearing open into a whirl of light and heat.

Without thinking, Mordaine grabbed Lyra’s hand, and together they leapt through.

The vault vanished.

Light seared Mordaine’s vision. Heat surged across his skin as though he were stepping through fire itself. For a heartbeat, the world dissolved stone, air, even his own body then reformed with a heavy crash of sound.

He staggered, gasping, his boots hitting uneven ground.

The air here was different. Cool. Heavy. Filled with the scent of damp earth and age.

When his vision cleared, Mordaine realized they were standing in a cavern vast enough to swallow the entire Academy hall. The ceiling arched high above them, studded with faintly glowing crystals that painted the chamber in hues of blue and violet.

Water trickled somewhere in the distance. Runes pulsed faintly across the cavern walls, the same runes that had lit on the archway.

Lyra released his hand and stepped forward, her eyes scanning the chamber with a mixture of awe and unease.

“So it still exists…” she whispered.

Mordaine frowned. “You knew about this place?”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she walked toward a raised platform at the cavern’s center. Upon it stood a stone obelisk, cracked with age but still humming with faint power. At its heart burned a single ember so small it looked like it should have gone cold centuries ago.

Yet when Mordaine drew closer, the flame inside him surged in recognition.

He felt it before he touched it: the ember’s pulse matched the rhythm of his heartbeat.

“What is this place?” he asked quietly.

Lyra’s expression was unreadable. “The Sanctum of Embers. Built long before the Academy existed. Long before the kingdoms drew their borders. This is where the first Flamebearer awoke.”

The word struck him like a blade. Flamebearer.

Mordaine’s chest tightened. “You mean there have been others like me?”

Lyra turned, her eyes sharp. “There have, yes. And every one of them was hunted, feared, or destroyed. The Flame is not meant to exist in this world… or so the Masters say.”

A silence hung between them. Only the faint drip of water filled the cavern.

Mordaine stared at the ember. Its glow deepened, as if reacting to his presence.

A hundred questions burned on his tongue, but only one made it out. “And you? Why do you know all this?”

Lyra’s lips pressed into a thin line. She looked away, her golden hair catching the glow of the crystals.

“Because, Mordaine,” she said softly, “my family was sworn to guard this place. To keep the Ember hidden, and to ensure no one awakened it again.”

Her gaze locked on him then, fierce and unyielding. “And yet, here you stand.”

The flame inside Mordaine roared, stronger than it had ever been. The ember on the obelisk flared in response, flooding the cavern with blinding light.

For an instant, Mordaine felt something images flickering like dreams: a battlefield wreathed in fire, a figure cloaked in shadow raising a hand against him, a world torn open by flame and ash.

Then the vision was gone.

Lyra reached for him, her voice sharp with alarm. “What did you see?”

But before Mordaine could answer, the cavern shook. Dust rained from the ceiling as a distant rumble grew into a roar.

Something was waking.

The ember on the obelisk pulsed again, and the runes along the cavern walls lit like veins of fire.

Mordaine stumbled back, his chest burning as the flame within him and the ember’s power intertwined.

From the shadows at the far edge of the cavern, stone cracked, and a shape began to emerge massive, winged, its body sculpted of molten rock and crystal.

A guardian.

Lyra’s face went pale. “You’ve awakened it.”

The creature’s eyes opened, burning like twin furnaces, and its roar shook the cavern like thunder.

Mordaine had only one thought.

We’re not getting out of here without a fight.