The lock cracked with a hiss of steam and light.
The old stone door beneath Blackmoor creaked open, revealing a circular chamber carved from obsidian. Runes lined the walls—shifting, whispering in forgotten tongues. The girl who led the student rebellion—her name whispered only among them as Sera—stepped inside, holding her breath.
A skeletal figure stood in the center, wrapped in crimson robes, not alive… but not fully dead. Its eyes glowed softly as if it had been waiting.
"You've come," it rasped.
Sera nodded. "You are the Oracle?"
It didn't answer. Instead, it pointed a single bony finger to the wall behind it.
There, etched in blood and flame, was an ancient prophecy.
Three symbols glowed:
A wolf's eye, surrounded by silver thorns.
A phoenix's flame, trapped in a cage of glass.
And a tri-rune: witch, vampire, and wolf—Hope's mark.
Sera's breath caught. "It's them."
The Oracle spoke, voice like wind over a grave.
> "The fire that dies shall rise again.
The blood of three shall break the chain.
One born of shadow, one cursed by flame,
And one who bears all three names.
They shall choose the war's end—
Salvation… or ruin."
Sera turned to her group. "Hope. London. Raphael."
The Oracle's voice trembled with growing force.
"But prophecy is not fate.
It is choice.
And not all of them will survive it."
---
At Blackmoor, Hope stood in the library, staring at the portrait of the Academy's founders. Her magic shimmered in her veins. She couldn't shake the feeling something was calling her.
London walked in, hair still wet from training. "You feel it too?"
She nodded. "Something's moving under the school."
Before they could speak further, Professor Aziel entered, his eyes glowing with fury.
"There's been a breach."
Minutes later, they were gathered in Richard's office.
"A secret door was opened beneath the library," Aziel said. "Old magic. Forbidden."
Richard paled. "That door was locked after the first war. No one should even know it exists."
"They do now," said Hope grimly.
Jessa sat at the window, arms crossed. "You think it's those weirdos from the forest?"
"They're not weird," Raphael muttered. "They're angry. And maybe they're right."
Everyone turned.
Raphael sighed. "They've been ignored. Cast aside. One of them said the school protects its favorites. I've… felt that before."
Jessa glanced at him, surprise flashing in her eyes.
Richard shook his head. "There is no excuse for what they're doing."Hope stepped forward. "Then tell us what's down there."
Silence.
Finally, Richard spoke.
"It's a weapon. Or a being. Something born during the rebellion. Something sealed by the original Council. It's tied to the prophecy, but we never knew how."
London's fire flared faintly. "We do now."
---
That night, Hope stood at her window, staring down at the forest.
She whispered to herself, "One born of shadow, one cursed by flame…"
And her voice trembled.
"…and one who bears all three names."
A war was coming. Not just between magic and monsters—but between truthsilence.
And the school she loved might be the greatest lie of all.