"when the stars weep blood and the thirteen moon turns black, a child born beneath flame will unmake the order of the old.
One half shadow, one half spark – they will walk neither arcane nor steel.
But when they walk, empires fall. And where they fell, a new world begins anew."
– Proverbs IV, Oracle of the Drown Temple, (Circa 149)
Many people forgot about the prophecy.
A few whispered it when war loomed or when their crops failed .
But mostly, they lived in dusty old books and mouths of old women who thought thunder means something.
Thalia Mare didn't think about prophecies.
She had a quiz today.
The classroom smelled of old ink, burnt paper, and damp wood. Morning sun leaked through cracked shutters, dusting dancing in slow spirals.
Someone had scribbled a badly drawn face of the professor with his large moustache on the back wall again. The teacher hadn't bothered to scrub it off.
Thalia sat sideways in her chair, one boot tapping against her desk leg, her braid half undone.
She was trying to decide if she could sneak a pantry without getting caught.
"What year did King Aurelius died during the Great Siege of the Frosted Knights?" the teacher asked, chalk floating near the board, back against the wall.
"307," Thalia answered before anyone else could. "After trying to convince the leader of the Frosted knights with his charm to maintain a healthy relationship between their kingdoms, which everyone knew would fail... the frosted knights killed him."
The teacher glanced over his shoulder. "Correct. Try not to answer everything for once, Miss Mare."
She shrugged, smirking. "You want the truth or an entire story?"
A few chuckles from the back of the class. Thalia popped the last corners of her cinnamon chocolate pastry into her mouth and went back to her notebook.
History wasn't her favourite, but it was better than Fieldwork and a thousand times better than Runic Geometry.
Behind her, Alden was snoring softly on his textbook. Typical.
Magic class came next, and she still hadn't memorized the containment phrases. Again.
She leaned over to her friend, Marra. "If I accidentally set my desk on fire today, just... pretend it was intentional, yeah?"
Marra rolled her eyes. "Like last time?"
"That was on purpose, a tactical flame blossom. Totally under my control."
The teacher cleared her throat. "Miss Mare. Eyes front of the board."
"Sorry, Miss. Just clarifying some tactical magic theory."
Another round of supressed snickering.
Outside the window, crows spun lazy circles in the cold sky. Kasmeize was quiet this time of year — too cold for festivals, too early for planting. But the roads had been busy lately. Soldiers heading east.
Riders heading west.
Thalia noticed things.
Always had.
Still, she scribbled down the notes on the board in margins, sketch a flame above the word Flame Blossom, and sighed.
Either way, class would end in ten minutes, and she had fire magic to definitely-not-mess-up.
"Thalia," Marra leaned close enough for a whisper, "have you seen that boy, what's his name... Niko?"
"What about him?"
"He left." Marra smirked. "Packed up, went home this morning—right before exams.
Said something about 'urgent family matters.'
"She rolled her eyes dramatically. "I bet his 'urgent matter' is not wanting to flunk Containment Theory."
Thalia snorted. "Seriously? That guy spent two weeks bragging about how easy the exams would be."
"And now he's vanished like a bad illusion spell." Marra grinned. "You sure you didn't scare him off with that tactical flame blossom of yours?"
"Please," Thalia said, flipping her braid over her shoulder. "If he can't handle a little smoke, he doesn't belong here anyway."
"You guys talking about Niko?" Alden spoke up from behind them, still stretching off the remnants of his nap.
"Yeah, why? You got anything about him?" Marra turned toward him.
"Yep." He leaned forward across his desk, smirking. "Apparently, he left to go back to Eisenreich with his family. Packed up early. Didn't even say goodbye."
"What? Before exams?" Thalia blinked.
"That's not like him."
"Guess he figured he'd fail them anyway," Alden shrugged.
"Or maybe his mum caught wind of that fireball he almost set loose in dining last week," Marra added with a grin. "Yanked him home before he could ignite dessert again."
Thalia rolled her eyes. "Come on. Niko was clumsy, not dangerous."
That's when a quiet voice cut in from the side.
"It's not just him."
They turned to see Emilios, who rarely spoke unless he had to. He was halfway through packing up his satchel, eyes on the parchment in his hands.
"His family didn't just decide to leave. They were called back."
"Called back?" Thalia echoed, frowning.
Emilios nodded once. "By their leader. The… Führer or whatever they call him. I heard it from my cousin in the city. All Eisenreich citizens were ordered to return home, immediately. No exceptions."
The silence that followed was heavier than it should've been.
Even Alden looked unsure now. "But why?"
"No idea," Emilios replied, his tone low. "But it's not just students. Shopkeepers, traders, teachers, even diplomats. All packing up. Like they're preparing for something."
Marra's smile faded. "That's... not normal, is it?"
Thalia stared down at her desk, the last words she'd scribbled still fresh beside a half-finished doodle. Flame Blossom.
"No," she murmured. "It isn't."
Outside, the crows circled lower than before.
And far off in the east, the wind carried more than just cold.
The Timecaller's whisper swept through the corridors—an arcane wind that tickled the ears of every student, urging them from their desks.
Benches scraped, notebooks slammed shut, and a tide of students spilled into the frost-bright courtyard. Breath fogged in the air; someone lobbed a snowball at the wobbling statue of Archmage Eiren, and the rune-etched marble promptly retaliated by spritzing the offender with ice-cold mist.
Thalia Mare navigated the chaos with Marra on her left, Alden on her right, and Emilios drifting a polite pace behind.
"Stew day," Marra groaned, sniffing the steam curling from the canteen doors.
"Smells like they boiled last week's socks."
"Better than Fieldwork gruel," Thalia said. "At least stew has—what's the word—texture."
Inside, warmth slapped her cheeks.
Cauldrons lined the long oak counter, each levitating a chalkboard label that glimmered: Frostboar Stew, Runewheat Rolls, Bitterroot Cider.
Enchanted ladles served themselves when tapped; the forks on the racks hummed softly, warming the metal so fingers wouldn't freeze.
Alden loaded his tray as if besieging a fortress. Rolls, extra stew, two slices of ember-glazed carrot cake. Marra squinted. "If you explode during meditation, I'm not cleaning it up."
"I'm carb-loading for spell focus," he said, utterly serious.
Thalia flicked his sleeve. "Pretty sure focus requires sleep, not pastries."Emilios gave a small, tight smile, still reading a dog-eared pamphlet titled Border Bulletins while he sipped cider.
They found an empty table near the window. Outside, carts creaked by—strangers in fur cloaks, peddlers hawking sky-lacquer charms, and two armoured riders bearing the gold-black seal of the capital. Thalia caught Emilios watching them.
"Another escort heading east?" she asked quietly. He folded the pamphlet. "Second one today."
Before she could reply, the headmaster strode past their table, whispering to a junior tutor: "That makes three Eisenreich families gone this week. Keep an eye out." His voice vanished into the crowd.
Marra stabbed her stew. "So that Niko rumor's true." Alden, cheeks full of carrot cake, mumbled, "Told you."
Thalia forced a shrug, but her appetite thinned. "Well, good luck to him. Exams without him might even be peaceful."
The final chime-crystal pulsed, sending a soft amber wave across the dormer windows and summoning them to the Prism Chamber—an octagonal hall smelling of hot wax and violet incense. Floating candles hovered at eye level, shedding slow, sleepy light. Velvet cushions formed a perfect circle on the mirrored floor.
Professor Silesse, robe shimmering like wet ink, lifted two fingers. "Center yourselves. Breathe. Reach inward; let the world fall away."
Thalia knelt, palms on her knees. Don't set anything on fire, she reminded herself. Eyes closed. Breath in—lilac smoke, faint chalk dust, cinnamon from lunch.
Breath out—silence.
The Vision
Black soil crumbled beneath her boots. Overhead, a night sky bled crimson—stars dripping like open wounds into a roiling void. Far off, a lone tower of pale stone shattered, sending sparks into the dark like dying fireflies.
A child—half shadow, half ember—moved through the ruins. With each step, iron banners toppled in silence. Funeral bells echoed across the horizon.
The child turned. Their violet eyes were wrong—too bright, too deep. Behind them, a vast black eagle unfurled across the sky, its wings spanning the horizon, feathers made of jagged steel. Snow began to fall, each flake hissing into steam where it touched the earth.
Then—footsteps, slow and deliberate, crunching in the ash behind her.
Thalia turned. A tall figure emerged, cloak tattered, face hidden beneath a hood that swallowed all light. In their hand—a sword, gleaming.
She tried to speak. No words came.
The blade struck.
White-hot pain exploded through her side. She staggered, darkness rushing in. The tower collapsed again. The bells grew louder, frenzied.
Empires fall, whispered a voice not her own, and where they fell...
The ground split. Not lava—light. Blinding, molten-white light that devoured all it touched.
And then—Awakening
Her eyes snapped open.
Wide. Breath ragged. Heart thundering in her chest.
Candles flickered violently. One burst in a brief violet flare. Several others dimmed.
Professor Silesse lowered his hands, watching her. "Miss Mare. Are you well?"
Thalia blinked rapidly. Her hand hovered near her ribs as if the wound lingered. "Yes, sir. Just… my lost focus."
Across the circle, Alden raised an eyebrow. Marra leaned in closer, concern written across her face.
"You sure?" she whispered. "You look pale."
Thalia nodded once, exhaling slowly. "Yeah. I'm fine."
But she wasn't. Not really.
Outside, the sky turned silver-blue. Snow drifted like ash. And beneath her robe, Thalia still felt the ghost of steel pressing through her ribs.