The world was nothing but smoke and ringing.
Ren's ears screamed with the sound of collapsing stone, his vision a blur of light and shadow. The taste of ash filled his mouth. When he forced his eyes open, the Great Hall of Aetherion was gone. What had once been marble and crystal now lay in ruins. Fires burned with blue-white mana, and the air stank of blood and ozone.
Bodies were everywhere—some moving, some not.
Ren's barrier had held, barely. The students inside it lay gasping, pale but alive. He dropped to one knee, his mana core spinning wildly, threatening to tear itself apart from the backlash.
"Ren!"
Kael's voice cut through the haze. His friend was crawling toward him, face smeared with soot, one arm bleeding.
Ren caught him before he fell. "You're hurt."
"Yeah," Kael muttered, grimacing, "but alive. That's your specialty, isn't it?"
Ren didn't answer. His gaze swept the wreckage. The sigil above still pulsed faintly, dark veins running through the ceiling like roots of shadow. It was feeding on the academy's mana veins—slowly turning the sanctum itself into a conduit.
It's not over.
He pushed Kael aside just as a second pulse erupted. The air rippled, tearing open a jagged wound of black light in the center of the hall. From it spilled shapes that defied reason—figures of smoke and bone, limbs too long, eyes like molten gold. Abyss-spawn.
The students screamed.
Ren drew his blade. The metal hummed, reacting to his mana, a faint violet glow tracing its edge. Kael staggered beside him, fire already forming in his hands.
"Guess we're not done yet," Kael said through gritted teeth.
Ren's eyes narrowed. "Stay close."
They moved as one.
The first creature lunged, a blur of claws and smoke. Ren pivoted, slicing through its torso; the blade met no resistance, yet the creature howled, dissolving into embers. Kael's flames surged next, roaring through the hall and setting two more ablaze.
But for every one they cut down, two more crawled from the rift.
"Ren!" Kael shouted. "We can't hold them all!"
Ren's thoughts raced. The sigil—the rift—it had to be the core. If he could disrupt the pattern feeding it, maybe it would collapse.
He sprinted toward the center, dodging claws and shards of flying debris. The ground cracked beneath him, and for a moment he saw something below—a vast network of glowing runes beneath the academy, twisting like veins of fire.
The entire Sanctum is a seal, he realized. And something's trying to break it.
He pressed his palm to the floor and flooded it with mana. The backlash nearly shattered his bones. Pain lanced through his arm, but he kept pushing until the nearest runes flickered, destabilized, and snapped.
The rift screamed.
A shockwave hurled him backward. Kael caught him halfway, the two rolling across the floor and slamming into a fallen pillar.
"You good?" Kael panted.
Ren coughed, blood on his lips. "Define good."
Kael actually laughed. "Still talking. Good enough."
Their brief exchange was cut short as the rift expanded again, swallowing the upper galleries. From within it, a new presence emerged—a tall figure cloaked in shifting darkness, a crown of bone hovering above its head. Its voice was deep and cold, echoing in every mind present.
Children of the surface… you dare to awaken us.
The students froze. Even the Headmaster, hovering near the shattered ceiling, looked momentarily stunned.
Ren's body moved before thought. He raised his sword, its glow intensifying until it matched the hue of his eyes. "Get them out of here!" he yelled to Kael.
Kael hesitated. "What about you?"
"I'll hold it."
"Don't—"
Ren was already running.
He leapt onto the broken remains of the dais, mana swirling around him like a storm. The creature turned its gaze toward him, and for a heartbeat, Ren saw entire worlds burning in its reflection. Then it struck.
The impact shook the hall. Ren blocked, barely. His sword screamed against the weight of the blow, the floor beneath him fracturing. His arms burned, but he refused to give ground.
He countered, slashing upward in a wide arc, sending a burst of condensed energy through the creature's chest. It staggered, roaring in fury. Ren used the opening to drive his blade into the ground, channeling mana straight into the remaining runes.
The symbols flared once, then shattered. The rift convulsed.
The creature screamed as the portal began to collapse, dragging everything back into itself. Ren felt the pull too—like gravity had turned inward.
He grabbed a fallen student and hurled them toward Kael. "Go!"
"Ren!" Kael shouted, reaching out.
The floor gave way.
Ren fell through darkness.
---
He landed hard in the lower catacombs, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Dust rained from the ceiling. For a long moment he lay still, staring up at the faint light filtering through the cracks above.
Alive.
Barely.
He sat up slowly. The air down here was different—heavy, old. The walls glowed faintly with ancient glyphs, pulsing to the rhythm of a distant heartbeat.
As he stood, a faint whisper brushed against his mind.
So you've come at last.
He froze.
The voice was neither male nor female, but it vibrated through his bones like a song he had heard a thousand times before.
Heir of the Dawn. The seal weakens because you live.
Ren's hand trembled on his sword. "Who are you?"
I am what remains of what you once destroyed.
The air shimmered, and a figure took form—human-shaped, but made of black glass, its eyes voids filled with galaxies. It regarded him almost fondly.
You do not remember, do you? How many times have you been reborn, little king?
Ren's heartbeat quickened. He didn't know this thing, yet his chest ached as if he should.
"I don't know you," he said.
You will. The figure smiled, a crack spreading across its face. When the moons align, the Abyss will open again—and this world will drown as it did before. Unless you finish what you began.
It reached out, touching his forehead. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Images flooded his mind—cities burning, oceans boiling, three moons bleeding red. A sword of light descending from the heavens. His own voice screaming through time.
Then darkness.
---
He woke to warmth and the smell of incense.
The infirmary ceiling was familiar—arched, carved with protective wards. Sunlight filtered through a single window. His body hurt in ways he couldn't describe.
"You're awake."
Kael sat beside the bed, arm in a sling, eyes ringed with exhaustion.
Ren tried to sit up, winced, and failed. "How long?"
"Two days," Kael said. "Half the academy's gone. The rest's being rebuilt. The Headmaster says the seal held, barely."
Ren's throat felt dry. "The students?"
"Fifty-two dead. More injured. If you hadn't broken the runes when you did, it would've been everyone."
Ren looked away, guilt twisting in his stomach. "I couldn't save them all."
Kael's voice softened. "No one could."
Silence stretched between them. Outside, faint sounds of reconstruction echoed through the halls—hammering, chanting, the quiet murmur of survivors.
Finally Kael said, "They're saying weird things about you. That the Abyss responded to you. That you… triggered it."
Ren didn't answer. He stared at his hand, watching a faint shimmer of black energy coil between his fingers before fading.
Kael sighed. "I don't believe it. But others will."
Ren's voice was barely above a whisper. "Maybe they should."
Kael slammed his good hand against the wall. "Don't start with that."
Ren met his eyes. "You don't understand. I saw something down there. It knew me, Kael. It called me the Heir of the Dawn."
Kael hesitated. "What does that even mean?"
"I don't know," Ren said. "But whatever's coming… it's only the beginning."
---
Later that night, when the corridors were empty, Ren slipped out of bed and limped through the ruins of the courtyard. The moons hung above—three of them, each a different color: crimson, silver, and pale blue. Their light crossed paths over the shattered towers, painting the academy in ghostly hues.
He stopped beneath the largest spire, closed his eyes, and listened.
The world was quiet, yet beneath the silence he could still feel it—the pulse of the Abyss, faint but constant, like a heartbeat echoing from beneath the earth.
He opened his eyes. "You won't take this world," he whispered. "Not again."
A voice drifted through his mind—soft, distant, almost sorrowful.
Then be ready to sacrifice everything.
Ren exhaled, letting the night wind carry his fear away. For the first time, he understood what Lysandra had meant. The darkness didn't destroy you—it waited until you destroyed yourself.
He looked up at the moons, their light reflected in his eyes.
"I'll protect them," he said quietly. "Even if it kills me."
And somewhere far below the academy, deep in the sealed catacombs, the faint sound of laughter echoed—low, ancient, and patient.