Victoria's eyes snapped open as the cold, sterile lights above her hummed.
Professor Spark's voice cut through her fogged thoughts.
"Good. You're conscious. Medic team remove her restraints."
The enchanted chains unlatched with heavy clicks and faint runic sparks. Victoria sat up slowly, her breathing controlled but her gaze lethal.
"What," she growled, voice low and dangerous, "did you do to me?"
Her eyes darted across the room searching for escape routes, signatures of magic, weapons, weakness. Anything. Her mana reserves whispered back—unstable, fractured, fragile.
Spark smirked as if reading her panic.
"We patched up your soul. You nearly erased yourself with that little summon stunt."
She chuckled tone light and unnervingly amused before turning away as if Victoria were nothing more than an interesting failed experiment.
Headmaster Zephyr lifted his hand, and a swirling violet portal unraveled into existence.
"No further dramatics today," he said calmly. "Return to your quarters and recover."
Before she could protest, before she could demand answers the magic pulled her forward.
She reappeared in her dorm rich, spacious, layered with expensive furniture and high-tier enchantments. A luxurious chamber meant for the elite.
But Victoria barely noticed.
Her soul hurt.
Like fire stitched poorly with ice, like something was being held together by force instead of nature.
She collapsed onto her bed, chest rising and falling sharply.
"…My soul…" she whispered, pressing a trembling hand over her heart. "What happened to me?"
A thought surfaced.
Maybe… maybe I can reach whatever responded before.
She closed her eyes.
Her consciousness drifted into darkness.
Not sleep.
A descent.
The void greeted her with cold silence.
When sight returned, she stood once again in the labyrinthine corridor lined with massive cell doors forged from obsidian-black metal veined with molten runes.
An unnatural hush blanketed everything.
Then—voices.
Hissing. Chanting. Laughing.
"She returns…"
"She bleeds power…"
"She trembles… delicious…"
Victoria staggered forward, hands to her ears.
"STOP."
The corridor shook.
Silence fell instantly smothering and absolute.
A deep, ancient presence stirred.
From the largest cell the same place as before two torches ignited. Their fire burned deep crimson, casting shadows like writhing chains across the stone.
Metal bars began to glow red-hot as something enormous pressed against them from the other side.
"Step closer, mortal."
The voice wasn't spoken.
It was felt through bone, blood, and memory.
Victoria obeyed despite every instinct screaming to run.
The molten metal bent outward not broken, but yielding, as if bowing to something impossibly old.
And then—
A being stepped into the torchlight.
A colossal dragon with scales burning like living fire, each plate etched with ancient symbols of destruction and rebirth. His mane was molten flame, and his eyes burned brighter than the sun.
One breath from him warped the air.
Victoria froze breath stolen by fear and awe.
"You survived," the dragon rumbled.
"Frail flesh and borrowed courage but still you live. That is rare… and inconvenient."
Victoria swallowed. Hard.
"What… are you?"
The dragon lowered his head not in respect, but assessment. A predator observing prey.
"I am ScarLite. Bearer of the Eternal Flame, Sovereign of Ruin, Scourge of the First War."
His gaze sharpened.
"And now the first spirit bound to your destiny."
As he spoke, other lights flickered to life deeper in the void revealing glimpses of others.
A creature with Soft golden wings. Cold violet eyes
Slithering shadows retreating from the area.
Not to mention. A familiar burning salamander the same spirit she had summoned in rage.
Their presence pressed into her and heavy, suffocating.
"A pact has begun," ScarLite thundered. "Not chosen not earned but forced by fate and arrogance."
He lowered until his snout was inches from her face.
"You have awakened a forbidden path. One few walk. Fewer master."
His voice fell to a lethal whisper
"You are now a Spirit Tamer."
The void rumbled as every spirit spoke as one—an echo of ancient power and hungry expectation.
"Prove yourself… or be devoured."