The academy grounds were chaos dressed in order. Students in midnight-blue uniforms formed ranks under barked commands. Magical wards shimmered into place around the towers, each layer crackling with urgency. The bell's toll carried across the hills, a sound that hadn't echoed since the last War of Hollow Stars. Birds scattered from the spires as the fourth bell rang an ominous warning in a world already holding its breath.
Arin stood at the edge of the balcony, the mark on his forearm glowing faintly beneath his sleeve. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a silent reminder that he was no longer just a student he was something else entirely.
He wasn't ready. But readiness no longer mattered.
"They're sending the Valiant Houses to the east," Lyra said beside him, her voice tight. "They think it's a breach."
"It is a breach," Arin replied. "The messenger said the wards are failing. The Wyrmwall was never meant to last forever."
Lyra turned to him, her eyes scanning his face. "And yet you're the one they're looking to. You've barely had time to breathe, let alone train."
Arin gave a humorless smile. "Funny, isn't it? One day you're worried about exams, the next… about ancient horrors beyond enchanted borders."
A moment of silence passed between them. Then:
"We should go," Lyra said.
Arin turned to her. "Go where?"
"To the Forgotten Border," she said. "To see it with our own eyes. We can't afford to be blind in this."
Before he could answer, a sharp knock struck his door. It opened before either of them could respond.
Elira stepped in, already armored in silver and obsidian. Her hair was tied back, her blade sheathed at her hip. She looked between them once, her expression unreadable.
"The Council has named you interim Warden of the Crest," she said to Arin. "Until the High Warden returns from the Eastern Spires. You'll be briefed at dawn."
Arin blinked. "I… I've never commanded anything before."
"You've been marked," Elira said softly. "That carries weight. Whether you want it or not."
Lyra rested a hand on his shoulder. "You won't be alone."
Elira gave a curt nod, then tossed a scroll onto the table.
"Your first task," she said. "Decipher this. It was recovered from the breach. The symbols match the runes that glowed in the chamber you just left."
Arin picked it up. The parchment hummed in his hands alive, ancient. He recognized one of the symbols immediately: the crest of the First Keeper. And beside it, another he didn't recognize, one that pulsed with a cold kind of energy.
Elira's voice softened. "Whatever's waking beyond the Wyrmwall… it knows who you are now."
Outside, the sky rumbled not thunder, but something older. Something that vibrated through bone.
They walked through the academy under darkness veiled by moonlight. The halls had never been so quiet. Even the sentries spoke in hushed tones.
"The council wants to send observers to the breach site," Elira said. "But I argued you should see it first."
"Why me?" Arin asked. "Surely there are more experienced mages, seasoned Keepers"
"Because none of them bear the Mark," she cut in. "And none of them were recognized by the chamber. It changed when you entered it. That means something."
They arrived at the old teleportation circle beneath the library. Lyra and Arin exchanged glances as Elira activated the runes.
A deep hum filled the room. Light swirled around them, golden and crackling. When it faded, they were no longer beneath the academy.
They stood on a hill overlooking the shattered remnants of the Wyrmwall. Once a majestic barrier of carved stone and eternal flame, now it lay broken, like a spine snapped in rage. Dark shapes slithered just beyond the torn wards, vanishing into mist.
"It's worse than we thought," Lyra murmured.
Elira didn't speak, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "Look there." She pointed toward a jagged tear in the earth. At its center stood a massive, obsidian obelisk—one that hadn't been there before.
"It wasn't raised," Elira said. "It was revealed."
"What is it?" Arin asked.
She hesitated. "An ancient marker. From the time before the Founding. Before the academies. The legend said such stones marked where the Old Blood was sealed."
"And now one is awake," Lyra whispered.
Suddenly, the Mark on Arin's forearm blazed. Not just a glow, but a burning light. He dropped to his knees, clutching his arm as voices filled his mind.
Whispers in a language older than the wind.
"Return... Rekindled One... the blood calls... the Gate awaits."
Elira knelt beside him, placing a grounding hand on his shoulder.
"They know you're here," she said. "And they're calling you back."
They returned at first light.
The Council of Nine was already assembled in the Grand Spire. Nine chairs, nine cloaked figures, each older than the last war.
Arin stood before them, flanked by Elira and Lyra.
"Explain what you saw," said Headmistress Kaelora.
He did. Everything. The breach. The obelisk. The whispers.
When he was done, silence followed. Then Kaelora leaned forward, her silver eyes piercing.
"You are no longer just a student, Arin. You are a flame rekindled. And this council decrees that you will lead the Vanguard to the Border."
"What is the Vanguard?" Arin asked.
Kaelora answered, "The elite. Those willing to face what lies beyond the veil. You will be trained. Armed. And then sent east. Before the darkness spreads too far."
Elira turned to Arin. "This is the beginning of your trial."
That night, back in his chamber, Arin unfolded the map again. Now more names lit up. Ancient keeps. Hidden sanctums. He traced a line from the academy to the breach. One location pulsed with golden ink The Hollow Sanctum.
He was still staring at it when Lyra entered, holding two steaming mugs of glimmerroot tea.
"You look like you've aged five years," she said, handing him a mug.
"I feel like it."
She settled beside him, looking at the map.
"I guess this is happening."
"It is."
"You scared?"
He nodded. "Terrified."
"Good. Means you're not an idiot."
They shared a quiet laugh. Then Lyra grew serious.
"I'm coming with you," she said.
"You don't have to"
"I want to. I meant it when I said you wouldn't carry this alone."
He looked at her. For the first time in days, he felt like the weight might be bearable.
The following morning, the Vanguard assembled. A dozen chosen mages, warriors, scholars. Each one handpicked. Each bearing a crest of unity over their hearts.
Arin stood before them, the Mark glowing as it had in the chamber. He looked out over their faces.
"I don't have all the answers," he said. "But I know this: we face something older than any of us. And if we don't move now, none of this" he gestured to the academy behind him "will survive what's coming."
He raised his arm. The Mark flared.
"Together. We reclaim what was forgotten. We seal what was broken. And we fight for what remains."
The Vanguard raised their fists.
"For the Crest!"
"For the Heir!"
And so it began.
Again.