Location: Ashenwell Academy – Nightfall, Solace Tower
Grim sat at the window, one eye gold, the other stormblue. The wind outside carried whispers—not voices, not yet—but threads of intent.
Sparks hovered behind him, unusually quiet. A single sigil glowed on the inside of Grim's wrist: black, violet, and emerald. Burned into him.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
"It activated an hour ago," Sparks finally said. "Been trying to trace the origin."
"Zariya," Grim said.
He didn't need confirmation. He'd felt her watching during the duel. The way the air bent. The silence that followed.
Zariya Nightwind—the Elemental Witch. Apex of the third years.
And the only one allowed access to the Forbidden Archives.
"Should we ignore it?" Sparks asked. "Or march into a trap with style?"
"I think she already knew I'd come."
Location: Training Hall Delta – Earlier That Evening
The training with Zevrin had left the others exhausted, bruised, changed.
But it was also the first time they truly looked at Grim with open awe.
Not fear.
Not worship.
Resolve.
Even Max—still bruised from his Umbros encounter—leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "So, Court?"
Grim nodded.
"They're moving again. And they'll come for us. One by one, or all at once."
Ayesha cracked her neck. "Let them. I could use more target practice."
Hadi grinned. "So, what's the plan? World domination?"
"No," Grim said calmly. "We're not ready for war. But we can prepare."
He stepped forward, gaze steady.
"They think they can break us because we're young. But we're not just heirs. We're forged. Trialed. Tested."
"Let them come. Let them see what Ashenwell's forged in the shadows."
His aura flared—storm and fire laced together.
The siblings straightened, fire in their blood, power in their stance.
Even Sparks hovered higher.
"Okay, okay," she muttered. "Nice speech. Eight out of ten. Too few threats, though."
Later That Night – Forbidden Wing of the Archives
The door opened on its own. Silent. Seamless.
And standing at the center of the spiraling, runeglowing chamber was Zariya Nightwind.
She wore no robes. Her body glowed faintly—veins of silver, hair drifting like she was underwater, eyes swirling with elemental magic.
"You came," she said. Not a question.
"You called," Grim replied.
"You're not what I expected," she said, circling him slowly. "You're more… storm than spark now."
"And you're still trying to act like you don't want something."
She smirked. "I want everything. But let's start with knowledge."
She turned—raised a hand—and the entire chamber shifted.
Shelves slid aside.
Runes unraveled.
And behind a wall of mirrors, a single door appeared.
"This is where the headmaster doesn't go. Not because he can't. But because he fears what it shows."
Grim stepped beside her.
"What's in there?"
She looked at him, eyes like the edge of a breaking tide.
"Answers. About the Court. About the old world."
"About you."
Back at Solace Tower – Moments Later
Sparks jerked upright, glitching slightly.
"Grim—something's wrong. That sigil…"
A hum thrummed through the tower.
The window cracked.
Lightning flashed—inside the walls.
The dream realm pulsed once.
"Oh no," Sparks whispered. "Someone's trying to trace you through her."