The Making of Bonefire Armor
The Foundation Hall was colder today.
Not physically—Ashwright Academy was always sweltering from the volcano's veins—but emotionally. The air felt as if it held its breath, waiting. Watching.
Aria felt it too.
Word of the mock battle had traveled fast.
Faster, even, than her unwanted title.
Death-Touched.
Whispers clung to her like ash to skin.
She pushed open the tall double doors and stepped into the classroom. The walls were lined with books older than countries, their spines cracked and ink-dark. Lanterns glowed from wrought-iron cages, their flames blue instead of orange, giving everyone a ghostly pallor.
Students murmured.
Riven raised two fingers in greeting—half a salute, half a smirk.
Selene didn't look away from her notes.
Radek's stare caught her and didn't let go.
He always looked like he knew something.
And today… he looked like he intended to prove it.
Aria took her seat, spine straight, jaw set.
Today, the teacher had warned, they would create their first personal spell.
Not imitation.
Not practice.
Creation.
The door thudded shut behind the instructor—a tall, sharp woman whose robes smelled faintly of burnt parchment.
"Class," she began, "today you will weave your first original spell. Intent. Medium. Denomination. All integrated, all yours."
She paced, chalk floating behind her like a loyal ghost.
"Remember: a spell you design reveals more about you than a diary. More than a confession. More than your blood."
Her eyes flicked—just once—to Aria.
It wasn't a warning.
It was an invitation.
"So," Riven murmured, voice low enough only Aria heard, "what are you going to make? Something flashy? Something explosive? Something… bone-related?"
She stiffened.
He grinned.
"Relax, Death-Touched. I'm joking."
Selene scoffed two rows up.
"You shouldn't joke about necromancy. Not unless you're prepared for the consequences."
Riven winked at Aria.
"Consequences are my specialty."
Radek turned around slowly in his seat.
His voice was soft.
Too soft.
"Aria, if you design a spell today… will it be yours? Or His?"
The temperature in her chest dropped.
Her fingers curled.
"Mind your own work," she said evenly.
"Oh, I am."
A thin smile.
"But watching yours helps me… calibrate."
Calibrate what?
She didn't ask.
She didn't want to know.
"Begin," the instructor commanded.
Books opened.
Vials clinked.
Quills scratched parchment in frantic, eager strokes.
Aria stared at a blank page.
Her hand twitched.
A whisper slid through her bones—not a voice, not a word, but the memory of power. The echo of skeletal hands rising from dirt. The feel of a shield made of something ancient, dangerous, living.
She knew what she wanted.
Not fire.
Not explosion alone.
Something that would protect her the next time someone tried to hurt her.
Something that would warn them.
Something that would bite back.
Her quill finally moved.
Spell Name: Bonefire Armor
Intent: Defense and Counter
Medium: Runic inscription on the caster's body, weapon, or armor
Denominations: Shield, Destruction, Bone
She began sketching the rune: a perfect circle, with three sigils arranged like teeth in a triangular formation—
Bone. Shield. Explosion.
Each rune pulsed faintly with magic as she wrote them.
Her fingertips tingled.
Her chest throbbed—slow, powerful.
Across the room, others watched.
Riven: impressed.
Selene: curious.
Radek: hungry.
"Aria Thorne," the instructor said, pausing behind her, "you've chosen a tri-structured rune?"
Aria nodded.
"Yes. It forms a shell—bone armor—then detonates outward after ten seconds."
A few students gasped.
"Ambitious," the instructor murmured, leaning closer. "And dangerous. Tri-runes often consume their casters. Are you prepared for that risk?"
"I already survived death once," Aria said quietly. "I'm not afraid to gamble again."
The instructor didn't outwardly react.
But something flickered in her eyes—approval, perhaps.
"Proceed. Slowly."
Students one by one activated their trial spells:
A flame whip that fizzled.
A levitation rune that sent desks wobbling.
A water burst that knocked someone's books over.
Aria waited.
Her chest felt like a drum.
Her hands shook—not from fear, but pent-up power she refused to show.
Riven nudged her.
"You're up, bone-girl."
Selene smacked him with her notebook.
Aria stepped forward to the center casting circle.
Her shadow stretched in three directions, lanterns flickering uneasily.
She drew the rune in the air—
one circle,
three sigils,
each glowing a faint, death-touched blue.
The classroom fell silent.
The rune sank into her skin.
Cold spread across her ribs.
Her bones vibrated like plucked strings.
A shield erupted over her body—ribbed, skeletal, beautiful and terrible.
Students stumbled back.
The instructor whispered, "By the gods…"
And then—ten seconds later—
BOOM.
The armor shattered outward in a controlled explosion of bone shards and pale light. None struck any students; they dissolved before touching anything living.
But every hair in the room stood on end.
Riven: jaw dropped.
Selene: wide-eyed.
Radek: leaning forward, studying her as if she'd just rewritten a law of magic.
Aria exhaled shakily.
She felt strong.
She felt powerful.
She felt… seen.
Too seen.
Before anyone could speak—
Darkness swept over her vision.
A chill brushed her cheek.
She stood in a vast, silent plain of black earth.
The God of Death materialized from shadow, skeletal silhouette crowned in drifting smoke. His blue-flame eyes flickered as if caught off guard.
"Child."
His voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"That spell…"
The blue flames flared, brightening.
"Damn. I did not expect something like that this early."
Aria blinked.
"…Is that bad?"
A long pause.
Then—
A laugh.
Low.
Echoing.
Almost proud.
"You craft weapons as naturally as breathing. Good. You will need that brutality."
His gaze sharpened.
"But be warned: the Old God's vessel will smell this creation on you. Your magic carries my mark, whether you wish it or not."
The plain dissolved.
She gasped back into the classroom.
Every eye was on her.
The instructor finally spoke, her tone reverent and wary:
"Aria Thorne… you have created a hybrid spell—shield, destruction, and necromancy. At your age, that is unprecedented."
Whispers rippled across the room like wind through brittle paper.
Riven:
"Holy hell, Thorne… remind me never to piss you off."
Selene:
"That was beautiful and terrifying."
Radek:
"…You're hiding something enormous."
Aria swallowed.
She wasn't ready for this attention.
For this suspicion.
For the growing shadow the Death God warned her about.
But she stood straighter.
Bone armor still tingled under her skin.
Strength hummed like a secret.
She had survived death.
She had survived Ashwright's tests.
And now—
the Academy knew exactly what she was capable of.
Or rather…
What they thought she was capable of.
The truth was far, far worse.
And far more powerful.