The hours after the envoy's arrival stretched endlessly.
The runes etched into Rivan's chamber pulsed in faint rhythm, as if echoing the uneasy thrum of his heart. The golden hue beneath his skin had long since faded, yet he could still feel it — like embers waiting for air.
He sat on the cot, back against the cold stone, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Every sound outside — footsteps, muffled voices, distant thunder — made his pulse spike.
He didn't know what would happen at dusk. The Headmistress hadn't said. Alden hadn't said.
But he could feel it.
Something heavy was coming.
A faint knock broke the silence. The door opened slightly, and Professor Alden slipped inside, carrying a small crystal sphere no larger than a fist. Its surface shimmered faintly, runes spiraling within.
"You're still in one piece," Alden muttered, setting the sphere on the table. "That's good news. For now."
Rivan looked up. "What's that?"
"Mana stabilizer," Alden replied. "The Headmistress ordered it. It'll help keep your aura from… reacting again. Think of it as a leash — one that keeps you alive."
He gave a humorless smile, but Rivan didn't miss the strain in his voice.
"What are they going to do to me?" Rivan asked quietly.
Alden hesitated, eyes flicking to the walls as if afraid they were listening. "The Council calls it an assessment. A test of magical stability, resonance, and intent."
He paused, his tone darkening.
"But in truth, it's a way to see if you're a threat."
Rivan's jaw tightened. "And if I am?"
Alden's expression said everything he didn't.
"They won't let threats live, Rivan."
Silence pressed down again.
Rivan turned away, staring at the faint shimmer of his reflection in the stabilizer's crystal. The golden spark behind his eyes flickered once, then vanished. "It's like I'm being punished for something I don't even understand."
Alden sighed. "The Council doesn't need to understand you. They just need to control you."
He hesitated, then added quietly, "Don't fight them today. No matter what they do. Even if you feel that pulse again — especially if you feel it. Do you understand?"
Rivan nodded slowly, though the unease in his chest refused to quiet.
When Alden left, the door sealed behind him with a rune-lock. Rivan sat in the dim light, listening to the hum of magic and his own uneven breathing.
His thoughts drifted — to the Headmistress's cold warning, to the envoy's silver eyes, and to the strange, hateful beat within him that had reacted to the word Council.
He didn't know where that emotion came from.
But every time he tried to suppress it, it fought back harder, whispering beneath his skin.
"They are not what they claim to be.
They took everything."
The whisper was faint, but real.
He pressed a hand to his chest, heart pounding. "Who… are you?" he murmured, voice trembling — but the whisper was gone as quickly as it came.
The chamber lights dimmed as the sun began to fall.
Far above the sealed cell, the upper floors of the Academy buzzed with quiet panic.
The Headmistress stood in the central hall beside the Council Envoy, the air between them thick with restrained mana.
Dozens of protective sigils shimmered across the walls, preparing the hall for what would come.
"You shouldn't have come in person," she said flatly. "The boy's unstable."
The envoy's voice was calm — too calm. "Which is precisely why I'm here. Unstable things require precision to dismantle."
His eyes — cold silver — traced the forming barrier sigils. "He carries something older than this academy itself. You felt it, didn't you?"
The Headmistress didn't answer. Her silence was confirmation enough.
"The resonance that triggered the Spire," the envoy continued, "matches only one record in our archives — from the Purge Era."
The Headmistress's jaw tightened. "Those records were sealed."
"And yet," the envoy said, smiling faintly, "history doesn't stay buried. Not when it bleeds through flesh and magic alike."
He stepped closer to the window overlooking the courtyard, where dusk shadows stretched long and crimson.
"If the resonance inside him truly comes from that, we can't afford hesitation. If it wakes—"
"It won't," the Headmistress interrupted sharply. "I'll ensure of it."
The envoy's silver gaze flickered toward her, weighing her words. "You speak as though you still believe he's human."
For a moment, the Headmistress's mana flared — not in anger, but defiance. "He's a student of this Academy. Until proven otherwise."
The envoy chuckled softly. "Spoken like a teacher… not a survivor."
His cloak shifted as he turned to leave. "Prepare him. At dusk, we'll see if the boy is truly a student — or a relic."
The doors shut behind him with a dull echo.
The Headmistress remained there for a long time, her gaze distant, fixed on the faint glimmer of the Eastern Spire in the distance.
"Rivan…" she whispered under her breath, "whatever you are, don't let them see it."
Outside, the final light of day bled into twilight — and deep beneath the Academy, the golden pulse within Rivan's chest began to stir again, in rhythm with something ancient awakening far below.
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