The next morning, the academy bell rang — but the sound felt hollow. Lyn barely slept. The image of Mira's dissolving form haunted him, looping endlessly in his mind.
Umbra hadn't spoken since. The wolf's essence lay dormant inside the crest, pulsing faintly like a heart behind glass.
Lyn's boots echoed sharply as he entered the Hall of Concord, the vast chamber where the academy council convened. The high arches gleamed gold in the morning sun, but the air smelled of old parchment and secrecy.
Six robed figures sat in a semicircle — their faces half-hidden behind runic veils. At the center sat Archsage Varendel, the oldest and most powerful summoner in Eldara, whose mere presence bent the air slightly around him.
"Lyn Ashveil," Varendel's voice echoed, calm but cutting. "You requested urgent audience regarding last night's incident?"
Lyn bowed stiffly. "Student Mira Valen is gone. Taken by binding magic. The northern dorms contain forbidden runes — traces of Marked Choir rituals. Why was this concealed?"
The council shifted uncomfortably. A murmur passed between them.
"Those dorms were sealed for a reason," another voice said, old and wavering. "Your trespass endangered—"
"I was following her trail," Lyn interrupted, fists clenched. "If the academy knew something about the Choir, then—"
"Enough!" Varendel's hand struck the table like thunder. "You will mind your tone."
The silence that followed was heavy. The Archsage leaned forward, his eyes gleaming through the veil."The Marked Choir is myth, boy. Ancient superstition. Nothing remains of it but stories used to frighten novices."
Lyn felt anger boil inside him. "Then explain the rune that branded me. Explain this!"
He held up the crest. The golden sigil on its surface shimmered faintly — revealing a dark layer beneath, the eye-shaped mark pulsing once before fading again.
The council collectively recoiled. Varendel's calm cracked for a moment.
"That is not possible…" one whispered. "The Choir's marks were purged after the First Rebellion."
Varendel recovered quickly, his voice turning cold. "Student Ashveil, you will hand that artifact to the Council for inspection. You are not authorized to wield unstable seals."
Lyn's eyes hardened. "No."
The Archsage froze. "What did you say?"
"I said no. That crest chose me. Umbra answers to me. You had your chance to stop what's coming — now I'll find the truth myself."
Mana rippled through the hall as the council rose to their feet. For a heartbeat, Lyn thought they would strike him down — but Varendel simply exhaled.
"Leave him," he said at last. "Let the curse consume its bearer. The truth will find him soon enough."
As Lyn turned to leave, a whisper brushed his ear — faint, feminine, and distant.It was Mira's voice.
"Run before the bells toll, Lyn. They already know your name."