The moon hung high when Sam returned to his dorm. The courtyard behind him was silent, as though the air itself refused to remember what had happened. He closed the door softly and leaned against it, his breath still uneven.
The faint glow from his pendant shimmered on the table. Sam stared at it, his reflection caught in its dark crystal. "I lost control again…" he whispered. His hands trembled slightly.
He hadn't meant to use his power — not like that. He'd only wanted to scare them, to stop the humiliation. But the darkness had surged from within him, answering his anger faster than his thoughts. He could still feel the echo of it — the suffocating pressure, the fear in their eyes.
This is what Lisa warned me about.
Sam sat on his bed, running his hand through his hair. "If anyone saw what I really used…" He stopped mid-sentence, shutting his eyes. No — he couldn't let it happen again. Not here. Not in front of everyone.
He unclasped the pendant and held it in his palm. The faint warmth coming from it calmed him a little, almost like his mother's embrace. "I'll control it," he murmured. "I have to."
Exhausted, Sam lay back on his bed. Sleep came slowly, heavy with unease.
The Next Morning
Golden light poured through the tall windows as the academy buzzed with excitement. The students were preparing for their field trip — a visit to the city to study ancient architecture and magical relics.
Lucy waved when she saw Sam join the group. "You look half-asleep," she teased, smiling gently.
Sam forced a small smile. "Didn't sleep much."
They boarded the carriage, and soon the bustling streets of Lavatorian came into view filled with merchants, performers, and vibrant markets. The air was warm, full of life. For a moment, Sam almost forgot the weight in his chest.
As the students dispersed to explore, a soft tune caught Sam's attention. A melody — distant yet hauntingly familiar. He turned and followed the sound through the narrow street until he found an old man sitting at the corner, playing a worn-out flute.
The man's eyes were hidden under a tattered hood, but his smile was warm and knowing. "Ah, a curious soul," he said as Sam approached. "You hear the stories within songs, don't you?"
Sam nodded slowly. "You… remind me of someone," he said, a flicker of recognition in his voice.
The old man chuckled softly. "Maybe I do. Or maybe it's the story you're chasing that brings you to me."
He began to speak between notes, his words weaving into the rhythm of his song. "Long ago, there was a man who stood between light and darkness. Neither god nor demon, but something… in between. He was called by many names — some feared him, others worshiped him. But those who truly knew him said he was never meant to exist."
Sam's eyes widened slightly. The description matched the very man he'd seen in the scroll the one whose sword tore through the heavens. "Do you know his name?" he asked quickly
But before the old man could answer, a sudden gust swept through the street. The crowd shifted, and for a blink, the old man
vanished — as if swallowed by the air itself.
Sam looked around desperately. "Wait! Where did you go?" His voice echoed in the crowded street, but there was no trace of the musician — not even the faintest sound of the flute.
Lucy, noticing Sam's panic, hurried over. "Sam! What happened?"
He shook his head, still scanning the area. "There was a man here — he was telling me something important, and then he just… disappeared."
Lucy frowned. "Maybe it's related to what you've been searching for," she said softly. "Let me talk to Father. If there's anyone who knows the truth behind old legends, it's him."
Sam hesitated but nodded. "Thank you."
Later That Evening – Duke Arvane's Mansion
Lucy had returned home and told her father about Sam's strange encounter in the city. She didn't know why, but she felt drawn to help him.
Arvane listened silently, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he only smiled faintly. "That's very thoughtful of you, Lucy. Leave it to me."
Lucy nodded, though something in his tone made her uneasy. She bowed and left the room.
Once alone, Arvane's calm demeanor faded. He walked to a locked cabinet, opened it, and pulled out an old framed photo. His eyes softened as he traced his finger over the faded image — a woman standing beside him.
He whispered, almost to himself, "So… it begins again."
Setting the frame down, he turned toward the window. The moon hung high above Lavatorian, just as it had that fateful night years ago.
"The prophecy… it's finally starting to unfold."
The candle beside him flickered violently, its flame twisting as if reacting to his words — and for a brief second, the reflection in the window wasn't just his.
The next morning, the academy's bell rang loud and clear across the misty courtyard, signaling a new day of training. The students were already buzzing with chatter about the upcoming Grand Arcane Convergence, the most prestigious contest that decided who would gain entry into the Hall of Truth.
Sam walked through the gates quietly, his expression calm but eyes sharper than before. The memory of the old man's tune and his mysterious disappearance still lingered in his mind. Every note of that song seemed to whisper something — a message just beyond his understanding.
As he crossed the courtyard, he could feel the stares again. Whispers followed him, some admiring, others resentful.
"That's the commoner who beat the nobles last night…"
"I heard he used forbidden magic."
"Don't get too close — he's dangerous."
Sam ignored them all. He had no time for rumors, no patience for fear. What mattered now was the contest — his key to the Hall of Truth, and to the truth about that man, that sword, and his own power.
He entered the classroom just as Professor Irius was arranging his scrolls. The older man looked up and gave him a knowing smile. "You've made quite an impression, Mr. Sam. The academy hasn't been this lively in years."
Sam bowed slightly. "I didn't mean to cause trouble, Professor."
Irius chuckled softly. "Trouble is the natural companion of power. But I sense in you something different — something the academy hasn't seen in a long time. The Grand Arcane Convergence will be your test, not of strength, but of control."
"Control," Sam repeated, his voice low but steady.
The professor nodded. "You've already glimpsed the danger of losing it, haven't
you?"
Sam froze for a moment but didn't respond. Irius didn't press. He only adjusted his glasses and handed Sam a sealed scroll. "This contains the guidelines for the Convergence. It begins in three months. If you truly wish to enter the Hall of Truth, this is your only path."
Sam took the scroll with a quiet determination burning in his eyes. "I'll be ready."
Later that Day
The training grounds were filled with light as students practiced their elemental spells — wind, water, lightning, flame — each vying for attention and recognition.
Lucy stood near the edge of the arena, watching Sam in silence. He had been at it for hours, channeling his energy into the golden flames that danced above his palm. Unlike before, the flames were calmer now, more refined — glowing with the brilliance of sunlight, not the fury of chaos.
"He's learning to balance it," Lucy murmured to herself, a faint smile touching her lips.
"Still think he's just a commoner?" a voice teased from beside her. It was Lyra, the fiery noble who once looked down on Sam but now seemed quietly intrigued.
Lucy shook her head. "No… I think he's something else entirely."
Across the field, Sam closed his fist, snuffing out the flame. He was drenched in sweat, but his breathing was even. For the first time since arriving at the academy, he felt like he was beginning to understand — not just his power, but himself.
Still, deep inside, he knew that the golden flame was only half the truth. Beneath it, the darkness pulsed quietly, waiting, watching.
Light to hide the dark, he reminded himself. Until the time comes.
As the sun began to set over the academy, Sam stood alone on the balcony overlooking the city. The wind carried the faint sound of bells from the capital below, mingled with the echoes of laughter from the dorms behind him.
But Sam's gaze was distant — fixed on the horizon, where the fading sunlight bled into
the shadows of the coming night.
"Three months," he whispered. "Three months to master this power… and find the truth."
Behind him, in the depths of the city, unseen eyes watched — and a familiar melody drifted through the air once more, faint and ghostly, as if the old man's flute was calling
him again.