Detention at Emberthorn isn't like detention in normal schools.
There are no chalkboards, no erasers, no soul-crushing essays on responsibility.
Instead, there are hexproof gloves, magical restraints, and at least three warning signs that read:
DO NOT BLEED ON THE BOOKS.
So yeah, things were going great.
✦ ✦ ✦
Riven and I were marched into Subterraneum B-3, a vault-like chamber deep beneath the castle. Stone walls hummed with protective wards. Runes shifted slowly over the floor in circular patterns like clockwork.
Professor Talwyn stood in the center, arms crossed.
Waiting.
The book—Reflections of Flame—hovered between her hands, gently spinning in the air.
She wasn't smiling. Which, for her, might as well have been shouting.
"Explain," she said simply.
Riven saluted like a soldier about to be executed. "In my defense, the archive attacked first."
Talwyn ignored her and turned to me.
"Miss Wren. Why this book?"
I looked at it.
The cover shimmered faintly. Old leather, embossed with curling fire vines. At the center, a symbol I didn't recognize—two flames entwined in the shape of an eye.
"I… don't know," I said honestly. "It called to me. I just felt like I had to open it."
Talwyn studied me for a long, tense moment.
Then, to my horror, she held the book out.
"Then open it."
Riven made a small choking sound. "Wait—what? Without gloves? What if it curses her? What if it bites? What if it explodes?"
Talwyn raised an eyebrow. "It won't."
"You sound very confident for someone who put a student in magical handcuffs last week."
"Because I know what this book does," she said quietly. "And I've never seen it respond to anyone. Until now."
I reached out—slowly.
My fingers touched the cover.
The moment I made contact, the world tilted.
✦ ✦ ✦
Suddenly—
I wasn't in the vault.
I stood in a world made of fire and ink. A vast library burned slowly around me, but the flames didn't hurt. They danced over pages, whispered along the spines of ancient tomes.
And floating above it all was a figure cloaked in gold and shadow.
They turned to me.
Eyes like stars. No face. Just light.
"Flame-born. Memory-keeper. One who remembers what the world forgot."
I tried to speak, but my voice didn't work.
"You carry the Spark of the First Flame," the voice said. "And they are watching you. Listening. Waiting."
Then the world shuddered.
"Don't trust the Thorn."
"What does that mean?" I gasped.
But the vision faded—
—and I collapsed back into the real world, gasping for breath.
Talwyn caught me before I hit the floor.
Riven was halfway through a lightning spell, her eyes wide.
The book floated back down, now closed.
Talwyn stared at it like it had just insulted her entire bloodline.
"It showed her something," she muttered. "Not even Headmistress Virel can access its core."
Riven helped me to my feet. "What did it show you?"
I tried to answer.
But all I could say was:
"It knows me. It knew my name before I said it."
And suddenly, I was terrified.
Because whatever this flame inside me was—whatever this book had seen—
It wasn't just power.
It was a secret someone had buried.
And I was digging it up.
✦ ✦ ✦
When detention ended (with a lecture about arcane responsibility and a warning not to "accidentally bond with cursed literature"), we were sent back to our dorms.
Riven was unusually quiet as we walked the halls.
"I've seen weird magic," she finally said. "But that was… old. Not just ancient. Like it came from a time before even Emberthorn."
I nodded.
"I think this has something to do with the firebird," I said. "With how my magic feels like it's alive sometimes."
"Or watching," Riven added. "It feels like something's watching you."
I didn't respond.
Because deep in my chest, the spark stirred again.
And this time, it whispered something new:
Find the mirror that burns.Find the flame that thinks.Find the truth that was sealed.
I didn't know what it meant.
But I knew I wouldn't sleep that night.
Not while someone—or something—was whispering to me from the fire.