The cool night air of Eldoria Academy's gardens clung to Kael Veyrin's skin as he stood beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient oak, the deep blue crystal from the Veyrin heirloom box pulsing faintly in his palm. Its energy thrummed through him, a steady rhythm that mirrored his heartbeat, both invigorating and unsettling. The gardens were a rare sanctuary amidst the academy's stone and steel, a sprawling expanse of manicured hedges, blooming nightshade, and hidden paths illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. The distant hum of the Culling Trial preparations echoed from the main courtyard, a reminder that time was slipping away. Beside him, Elara leaned against the tree, her bandaged arm cradled against her chest, her crimson robe dusted with the grime of their escape. Lir hovered nearby, his pale face illuminated by the flickering light of a small illumination spell, his trembling hands clutching his spellbook as if it were a lifeline.
The encounter with Dorian had left Kael's mind reeling. A bastard son of House Vaelthar, an outcast with golden eyes and forbidden knowledge—his words about the royal ritual and the Veyrin bloodline had ignited a fire in Kael's chest, a mix of hope and dread. The crystal in his hand was the key, the catalyst his mother's journal had promised could stabilize Severance, but it also marked him as a target. Proctor Lysara's cold voice still echoed in his ears—"Surrender now, and your death will be swift"—and he knew the royals were closing in. The locked archive had been a trap, and their escape had only delayed the inevitable.
"We need to figure this out," Elara said, breaking the silence. Her voice was rough, strained from the night's ordeal, but her dark eyes burned with determination. "That crystal—Dorian said it can stabilize your magic. How do we use it?"
Kael turned the crystal over in his hand, its facets catching the lantern light in a prism of blues and silvers. The journal's pages flashed in his memory, the ritual his mother had described: a channeling of bloodline energy, a fusion of magic and will. "It's not just about using it," he said slowly, his voice low. "I need to bond with it—through a ritual. The journal mentions a meditation, a focus on my family's lineage, but it warns of a cost. Severance might grow stronger, but it could… change me."
Lir's eyes widened, his fingers tightening on his book. "Change you? Like how? Magic that powerful always has a price. My grandmother used to tell stories about mages who lost their minds, their humanity, to forbidden spells."
Kael nodded, the weight of the warning settling over him. His mother's final entry had been cryptic: *"The power will awaken what sleeps within, but beware the echo of the past."* He didn't know what that meant, but the crystal's pulse seemed to call to something deep inside him, a dormant force he couldn't yet name. "We'll figure it out," he said, more to reassure himself than the others. "But we need a safe place to try. The dormitory's too exposed, and the royals will be searching."
Elara pushed off the tree, wincing as her arm shifted. "The old greenhouse," she suggested. "It's abandoned, on the east edge of the gardens. The glass is cracked, but the wards are weak—nobody bothers with it. We can set up there."
Kael agreed, and the trio moved cautiously through the gardens, sticking to the shadows cast by the towering hedges. The academy was a labyrinth of power, its every corner watched by proctors or noble spies, and the recent archive break-in had heightened the tension. As they slipped past a patrol of guards—their armor glinting with royal runes—Kael's mind drifted to his past. The slums of Veyrin Hold, the night his family's home burned, his mother's whispered lessons in the dark—all of it had led him here, to a crystal that might be his salvation or his doom.
The greenhouse was a relic of a bygone era, its glass panes shattered and overgrown with ivy, the interior filled with the musty scent of decaying plants and the faint hum of fading magic. Rusted tables lined the walls, their surfaces covered in cracked pots and wilted vines, while a single intact window cast a sliver of moonlight across the floor. Kael chose a corner shielded by a tangle of thorny roses, spreading his cloak as a makeshift mat. Elara and Lir took up positions as lookouts, their silhouettes barely visible through the foliage.
Kael sat cross-legged, the crystal resting in his palms, its warmth seeping into his skin. He closed his eyes, following the journal's instructions. *"Focus on the bloodline,"* his mother had written. *"Let the magic flow through you, a river returning to its source."* He breathed deeply, picturing his family—their faces lost to time, his father's stern voice, his mother's gentle hands guiding his first clumsy attempts at Severance. The crystal's pulse quickened, syncing with his heartbeat, and a surge of energy coursed through him, sharp and electric.
Images flashed behind his closed lids: a grand hall with banners bearing the Veyrin crest, a council of mages debating under a golden throne, a young woman—his ancestor?—casting a spell that shattered the air. Then came the echo—screams, the crackle of fire, the cold steel of royal guards. His family's fall, replayed in fragments, each vision laced with pain. Kael gritted his teeth, fighting to stay focused, but the energy intensified, a pressure building in his chest. His hands trembled, the crystal glowing brighter, and a voice—not his own—whispered in his mind: *"Awaken, heir of Veyrin."*
The ritual broke with a gasp, Kael's eyes snapping open as the crystal dimmed. His body ached, his vision blurred, but the magic felt different—sharper, more controlled. He flexed his fingers, testing a small thread of Severance, and unraveled a lingering ward on the greenhouse wall with ease. The cost was there, though—a faint dizziness, a whisper of something alien in his thoughts. He shook it off, turning to Elara and Lir, who had rushed to his side.
"It worked," he said, his voice hoarse. "Severance is stronger. But… I heard something. A voice. It called me the heir."
Elara frowned, her hand resting on her dagger. "An heir? That could mean trouble—or power. If the royals think you're a legitimate claimant, they'll come for you harder."
Lir nodded, his voice trembling. "The voice might be the bloodline's echo—magic tied to your family's history. My grandmother said such echoes can guide or haunt. We need to research it, but the library's off-limits now."
Kael pocketed the crystal, its warmth a constant presence. "Then we'll find another way. But first, we need to prepare for the next Culling Trial. It's in three days, and Lysara's warning suggests it'll be different—more dangerous."
The trio spent the next hours planning, using the greenhouse as a base. Elara taught Kael basic fire magic techniques to complement his Severance, her flames dancing in controlled bursts as she explained their strategic use. Lir pored over his spellbook, identifying weak points in common noble spells—ice, wind, and light—that Kael could exploit. The group also mapped out the trial grounds based on Thane's earlier descriptions, marking potential ambush points and resource caches.
As dawn approached, a rustling outside the greenhouse interrupted their work. Kael motioned for silence, peering through the ivy. A figure emerged—Thane, his mousy hair wild, his face pale with panic. "Kael!" he whispered urgently, slipping inside. "They're looking for you! Proctors raided the dormitory, asking about the labyrinth collapse. They found your bunk empty."
Elara cursed under her breath. "They're closing the net. We need to move."
Thane shook his head, his eyes wide. "It's worse. I overheard Lysara talking to Aric. They know about the archive break-in. They think you've got something dangerous—something about a lost bloodline. They're planning to use the trial to flush you out."
Kael's stomach tightened. The royals were playing a long game, and he was the prey. "Then we use it against them," he said, his voice steadying. "We'll join the trial, but we'll be ready. If they want a fight, we'll give them one they won't forget."
The group agreed, their plan evolving into a daring strategy. Kael would use his stabilized Severance to disrupt the trial's magic, creating chaos that Elara and the others could exploit to gather cores and expose the royals' manipulations. Thane volunteered to spread word to the lower ranks, rallying their alliance for support. The greenhouse became a hub of whispered tactics, the tension building as the trial loomed.
That night, Kael returned to the ritual, determined to master the crystal's power. The visions returned—his ancestor casting Severance to protect the kingdom, only to be betrayed by the Vaelthars' ritual. The voice grew clearer, a woman's tone, guiding him to focus the magic through his will. Each session drained him further, the echo leaving fragments of memory—battles, lost loves, a vow to reclaim their legacy. By morning, he could unravel spells with a thought, but the cost was a growing presence in his mind, a shadow that whispered of vengeance.
The day before the trial, the academy buzzed with anticipation. Noble students strutted with renewed arrogance, their ranks bolstered by royal favor, while the lower ranks gathered in secret, their eyes on Kael as a reluctant leader. Elara's burns had healed enough for light magic, her fire a controlled weapon, while Lir's research uncovered a spell to amplify Kael's Severance range. Gav and Mara joined them, their strength and cunning adding to the plan.
The trial began at dawn, the grounds transformed into a sprawling forest of enchanted trees, their branches alive with shifting runes. Proctor Lysara stood at the entrance, her staff raised, her silver hair glinting. "The rules are unchanged," she announced, her gaze locking on Kael. "Collect cores, survive, rise. Begin."
Kael entered with his team, the forest closing around them. The air thrummed with magic, the trees whispering with the presence of royal wards. His first test came quickly—a noble student, clad in sapphire, summoned a storm of ice shards. Kael raised a hand, his Severance slicing through the spell, the shards dissolving into mist. The noble gaped, retreating as Kael's team pressed forward.
But the trial was a trap. Aric appeared, his golden magic a blazing storm, his eyes fixed on Kael. "Time to end this, anomaly," he sneered, launching a barrage of blades. Kael countered, his stabilized Severance unraveling the attack, but the effort drained him. Elara's fire clashed with Aric's storm, while Lir's amplification spell extended Kael's range, shattering a ward that revealed a hidden core cache.
The chaos drew proctors, their voices shouting orders. Kael seized the moment, using Severance to collapse a tree line, exposing a royal overseer directing the trial. The crowd gasped as the man fled, his royal crest glinting in the light. The lower ranks rallied, collecting cores as the nobles faltered, their arrogance shaken.
As dusk fell, Kael's team emerged with ten cores, ranking them in the top ten. Aric glared from a distance, his defeat a silent promise of retribution. Lysara's eyes narrowed, but she announced the results, her voice tight. The trial had shifted the balance, and Kael knew the royals would strike back.
Back in the greenhouse, the team celebrated quietly, their alliance solidified. The crystal's power had grown, but so had the echo, its whispers urging Kael toward the throne. He knew the fight was far from over, but for the first time, he felt the strength to face it.