The Academy didn't sleep that night.
Rumors spread like wildfire — golden light, collapsing wards, and a student who stood at the center of it all. By morning, the incident had already turned into a story whispered across the courtyards, each retelling more distorted than the last.
Rivan felt every whisper scrape against him as he walked through the corridors. Every stare lingered a moment too long. Every murmur felt like an echo of the warning still haunting him.
He tried to ignore it. Tried to convince himself that the memory — the battlefield, the moons, the voice — had been just a vision. But every pulse of golden light beneath his skin said otherwise.
The eastern wing was still sealed off, shimmering with layers of containment spells. Faculty patrolled near the barriers, their eyes flicking toward him as he passed — wary, calculating, but silent.
And then, as he turned toward the inner courtyard, a voice stopped him.
"Excuse me, you're him, aren't you?"
The tone was smooth, laced with the kind of confidence that came from someone used to being heard.
Rivan turned.
A girl stood beneath the morning light, her posture straight, elegant — yet her eyes gleamed with curiosity sharp enough to cut. She wore a crisp uniform, the silver insignia of the House of Valencrest pinned neatly at her collar. Her hair shimmered faintly in the sun, catching hints of silver-blue that made her seem almost unreal.
"I'm Seren Valencrest," she said with a small, knowing smile. "Second-year. Daughter of Marquis Valencrest, if that means anything to you."
He blinked, momentarily unsure how to respond. "I… don't think we've met."
"No," she said lightly, tilting her head, "but you made quite the introduction last night." Her gaze swept across him, settling on the faint golden lines that still pulsed beneath his wrist. "You do realize people are saying you tore through an entire ward seal?"
Rivan frowned. "That's… not exactly what happened."
Her lips quirked, equal parts amusement and intrigue. "Of course not. Rumors always exaggerate. Still…" She stepped closer, her eyes bright. "That kind of reaction from the mana? It's not something even a High Adept could trigger. I was curious to see if the stories were true."
The weight of her stare made his pulse stutter. She wasn't mocking him. She was studying him — like he was a puzzle she couldn't resist solving.
"I didn't mean to cause it," he said quietly. "It just… reacted."
Seren's expression softened slightly, curiosity blending with something unreadable. "Mana doesn't react without reason, Rivan. It remembers intent, lineage, resonance…" Her gaze lingered, voice lowering almost to a whisper. "Sometimes, it remembers blood."
Rivan's stomach tightened. Remembers blood? The phrase hit something buried in him, something that felt dangerously close to the truth.
He forced a breath. "You sound like you know more than you're saying."
"Maybe," she said, turning away, her silver-blue hair brushing against her shoulder. "Or maybe I'm just someone who pays attention to things others choose to forget."
The morning light fractured through the barrier sigils behind her, scattering faint reflections across the marble. For a heartbeat, it looked as if threads of mana bent around her — acknowledging her presence the same way they had his.
Rivan noticed. And so did she.
Their eyes met, and something unspoken flickered between them — not hostility, not friendship, but recognition.
Before he could speak, a faint tremor rippled through the air.
The barrier around the eastern wing pulsed once, briefly flaring gold before dimming again. Faculty members glanced toward it, uneasy.
Seren's voice was quiet now, almost thoughtful. "You felt that, didn't you?"
He hesitated, then nodded. "It's… like it's alive. Watching."
Seren's smile faded. "Then you should be careful. Things that watch from the dark don't always stop at watching."
Before he could ask what she meant, she stepped back, the light catching the insignia at her collar once more.
"Don't follow the pull next time," she said. "If it remembers you, it's only because it wants something back."
Then she turned and walked away, her steps echoing softly down the hall.
Rivan stood in silence, the golden glow beneath his skin pulsing faintly — answering something he couldn't yet name.
Far away, beyond the Academy walls, the Council Chambers stirred.
A cluster of hooded figures sat in the circle of a vast marble hall, light from suspended mana-crystals illuminating their faces.
"Another disturbance at the Academy," one voice murmured.
"Same pattern as before. Golden resonance."
"Children's tales," another said dismissively. "Mana flares happen. Students lose control. It's nothing worth our attention."
And yet, as silence settled between them, one crystal at the chamber's center flickered — just once — with a faint golden light.
No one spoke after that. But none of them looked away.
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