The midnight bell echoed faintly in the distance, its dull chime swallowed by the wind drifting through the academy halls. Eiden moved like a shadow, his steps silent against the old stone floor. He had waited until all the lanterns in the student dorms flickered out before leaving.
His hood was up, his breath cold in the air. In his hand was a small parchment, half-burned and marked with runes only he could read. He found it hidden inside an old herbology book from the academy library—by chance, or so it seemed.
But Eiden didn't believe in coincidences.
The strange symbols on the parchment matched the ones he saw scratched into the hidden walls below the western tower. They were familiar—not just in knowledge, but in feeling. Like a whisper in his mind, reminding him of a place that once belonged to him.
"The Crimson Library…" he muttered, gripping the parchment tightly. "It really exists."
He reached a locked gate behind the potion hall. Few students knew it was even there. Using a thin piece of iron wire, Eiden twisted the old lock open with a soft click. His movements were practiced. Fluid. He had done this before.
He descended a narrow spiral staircase, each step groaning under his weight. Cold air rushed upward, carrying the scent of dust, rot, and magic long forgotten. The deeper he went, the more the stone walls around him changed. Smooth surfaces turned rough and cracked. There were no more torches. No more lamps. Only darkness.
But Eiden's eyes had long adjusted.
After ten minutes, the stairway opened into a vast underground chamber. It looked like an old sewer system—pipes rusted shut, old grates hanging loose. But on the far wall, hidden behind crumbled brick, was a circular door. Not metal. Not wood.
Stone.
With runes carved across its surface.
Eiden stepped forward, breathing slow. He placed a hand on the center of the stone door.
Nothing.
He closed his eyes and reached into his mana core. Slowly, he let out a small pulse of light-elemental energy. Just a sliver. Enough to feel—but not enough to be traced.
Hum.
The runes lit up, glowing softly in faint red and gold.
The stone door shuddered.
Then… it turned.
With a loud grind, the door rolled open, revealing a tunnel lined with glowing roots. It felt alive. Like something had been sleeping here for a very long time.
Eiden took a breath and stepped through.
---
Inside the Crimson Vein
The tunnel walls pulsed with weak magical energy. Not dangerous—but old. Ancient. Eiden followed the faint light, his footsteps echoing quietly. As he walked, he noticed something strange: the stone was engraved with notes. Lines and lines of handwritten symbols.
He stopped.
His eyes widened.
"This… is my handwriting."
His fingers traced the marks. Old spell theory. Incomplete formulas. Diagrams of spell circles and alchemical reactions. He couldn't remember when he wrote them—but he knew it was his.
His chest felt tight.
As if a lock in his mind had been turned, he started remembering flashes—his past life as Arkanos. The Mad Archmage. A man feared across kingdoms, hated by gods, hunted by heroes… but not evil.
No.
He had only wanted to protect the truth. And now, someone else had buried it.
Eiden kept walking until he reached the final chamber.
Inside were shelves made of bone and darkwood. Dust covered everything. But dozens—maybe hundreds—of scrolls and books remained untouched.
And in the center of the room… was a crystal mirror, cracked at the edges, glowing faintly with blue mist.
When he stepped in front of it, the mist cleared.
A figure stood on the other side.
Tall. Robed in black. Hooded like him. But older, with silver hair and burning golden eyes.
"…You've returned," the figure said quietly, voice echoing from another time.
Eiden didn't respond. He stared at the mirror, heart pounding.
This was not a memory.
It was a remnant. A sealed piece of his soul, left behind long ago to guard this place.
The reflection continued.
"They will come for you soon. When they sense the arts you revive… they will fear you, again. Just like before."
Eiden stepped forward and pressed his hand against the mirror.
"I won't make the same mistakes this time."
---
Above Ground: Watching Eyes
Far above, behind a dormitory window, Elara narrowed her eyes.
She had seen Eiden leave every night this week. Quiet. Precise. Always at the same hour.
She wasn't sure why—but something about him felt… off.
"Where are you going, Eiden?"
Her fingers clutched the hilt of her dagger.
And in the shadow behind her, unseen… a raven watched from the trees, its eyes glowing faint violet.