Aric stood in the center of the training hall, sweat clinging to his back despite the cool, humming air. Around him, glyphs flickered — drawn in radiant chalk across the stone floor, glowing faintly as if irritated by his presence.
"Again," Master Veylan said, pacing behind him with the precision of a predator. "Focus on the shape, not the light. If the glyph doesn't feel still, it isn't right."
Aric exhaled slowly and raised his hand. He pictured the sigil Veylan had shown them: three intersecting lines, encased in a circle, anchored by a dot in the center. He reached for the spark inside himself — the one he was finally starting to feel — and let the light rise.
A line flared into being before his hand.
Then another.
Then something else.
The pattern twisted mid-air. Instead of a circle, the light bent sharply, fracturing into a shape no one had drawn. Glyphs scattered in every direction. Some hit the ground and sizzled out. Others hovered, rearranging themselves in midair like they were alive.
The room dimmed. Silence.
Aric felt it again — that pressure in his chest, like something old was unfolding.
A moment later, the glyphs pulsed and reformed into a symbol he hadn't seen before. No one had. It looked wrong and right at the same time — too sharp, too elegant, like a forgotten word carved into the air.
Keela gasped behind him. "What is that?"
Master Veylan stepped forward, eyes narrowed. He waved a hand, dispelling the sigil with a single sweep — but not before copying it with a flick of his wrist. "That was not part of today's lesson," he said tightly.
"I didn't mean to," Aric said. "I just… thought I was following the pattern."
"You weren't," Veylan replied. "You conjured something else. Something older."
He gave Aric a long, unreadable look before turning away. "Class dismissed."
---
Later that afternoon, Aric sat at the edge of the reflecting pool near the eastern wing, watching light ripple across the surface. The water was too still, too perfect — like the pool was enchanted to remain calm no matter how turbulent the day.
Keela plopped down beside him, munching on something that looked like a glowing peach.
"So," she said with her mouth full. "You gonna tell me what that symbol was?"
"I don't know," Aric admitted. "It just… came to me."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's twice now. First the butterfly spell, now this. You're not just winging it, are you?"
"I am winging it," he said. "That's the problem."
They sat in silence for a moment. The sun filtered through the crystalline arches above, throwing fractured patterns of gold and blue across the courtyard.
"Do you ever feel like…" Aric began, then trailed off.
"Like what?"
"Like you've done all this before."
Keela blinked. "Déjà vu?"
"More than that," he said. "Like… I know some of this. I shouldn't, but I do. Like the training spells — I already knew how to do them before they explained anything."
Keela looked thoughtful. "You might be remembering traces. Echoes. There are theories about that — magical memory resonance. They say strong magic leaves fingerprints on your soul."
Aric rubbed his temples. "Great. So my soul is smudged."
She chuckled. "Look, you're clearly different. But that doesn't have to be bad. Just… be careful."
Before he could reply, the world tilted.
Not literally — but it felt like it. For a fraction of a second, everything shimmered. The air warped, like heat rising off asphalt. The runes along the walls of the courtyard pulsed in unison.
And then, nothing.
Keela didn't react. None of the students nearby did.
"Did you feel that?" Aric asked.
"Feel what?"
"The… shift. Like the world glitched."
Keela frowned. "Are you okay?"
Aric stared at the runes, which now looked slightly different. One of the symbols near the archway had changed — just slightly. But enough.
He didn't answer.
---
That night, he dreamed of light and voices.
He stood in a vast chamber — dark, echoing, but full of radiant lines that coiled through the air like veins. The Core Relic floated in the center of the room, its glow more intense than ever. Around it: twelve mirrors. Each showed a different version of himself. Some older, some younger, some… broken.
They whispered in unison.
"You've been here before."
He reached for one mirror. His hand passed through it, and suddenly he was falling — through time, through memory, through sound. Symbols swirled around him, languages he shouldn't know, patterns burned into his vision.
He woke with a jolt.
---
At breakfast, he barely touched his food. Keela chatted with another initiate about the upcoming assessment trials, but her voice was muffled to him, distant.
On his tray, the surface of his drink shimmered again — showing, for the briefest moment, one of the symbols from his dream.
He blinked and it was gone.
But the feeling wasn't.
Something inside him was waking up.
And it wasn't waiting for permission.