Veloria smelled like magic.
It lingered in the air—warm, electric, and wild—like rain after lightning. Spires hummed with energy. Floating glyphs shimmered faintly above market stalls. The walls themselves whispered with ancient enchantments. But beneath all the wonder, Kael could feel it.
Pressure.
He wasn't meant to be here. Not really.
The other students wore fine robes embroidered with house crests. They arrived on enchanted wagons or mounts blessed by mana. Kael arrived on foot, carrying a single sword, a page of forgotten magic, and a hunger the others didn't understand.
He wasn't here to impress anyone.
He was here to learn how to fight. How to survive. How to kill the things that took everything from him.
Day One at the Outer Ring Academy was brutal.
It began with a combat trial—not a lesson.
Instructor Rael didn't believe in easing in. He wanted to see blood, sweat, and will.
They lined up in the training yard, a mix of humans, elves, dwarves, and beastkin. Dozens of recruits, each with their own reasons for being here. Kael didn't know any of them yet. He didn't care.
Rael walked down the line, calling out names. One by one, pairs stepped forward and fought—no magic allowed. Just blade against blade. Fist against fist.
"Kael," Rael finally barked. "You're up. Against Brask."
A large beastkin boy stepped forward, easily a head taller than Kael, with gray fur and curved horns. He looked like he'd been born in battle.
Kael nodded once and stepped into the ring.
The fight started fast.
Brask charged, low and aggressive, like a charging bull. Kael slipped to the side, using his speed to avoid the first strike. The second came faster, a sweep of Brask's massive arm that Kael barely ducked under.
He rolled backward, drawing a dull training blade.
Brask grinned. "You dance well, little human."
"I wasn't trying to impress you," Kael said.
Brask rushed again—this time feinting high before going low. Kael blocked, barely. The force rattled his bones. But his stance held.
He waited. Observed. Read the rhythm.
And when Brask overcommitted on the next strike, Kael pivoted and slammed his hilt into the beastkin's gut.
Brask staggered.
Kael moved quick—dodging a counter and knocking Brask off balance before planting a boot to his chest and sending him crashing to the ground.
Silence.
Rael raised a hand. "Enough. Match goes to Kael."
No applause. Just silence and a few raised brows.
Kael didn't need cheers. He'd proven what he needed to.
That night, he returned to his quarters, body aching, hands raw.
He sat at the small desk by the window, unwrapping the Divine page from the cloth he kept it in. As always, it pulsed softly in the dark—like a heartbeat.
This time, the runes rearranged themselves again, forming a new line of text:
"Beware the fire that serves the crown, for its flame burns truth to ash."
Kael stared at it, uneasy.
More riddles. More warnings.
He remembered what Edrin had told him before he left—about the Crowned Flame, the King's elite magical unit. They didn't answer to any court or council. They operated from the shadows. Even the Guard feared them.
And if what the Divine Magic warned was true…
They were part of the lie. Part of the reason his family died.
Two weeks passed.
Kael quickly earned a reputation among the recruits—not for being the strongest, or the most talented—but for being relentless.
He trained longer than anyone else. When others slept, he practiced. When others studied spells, he meditated on the Divine Magic. Slowly, it began reacting more to him—small sparks of energy leaping from the page into his fingers, tingling like static.
He hadn't cast a spell yet.
But something was waking up inside him.
One morning, as Kael was running drills alone near the cliffside, a familiar voice called out.
"Training again? You're going to burn yourself out, you know."
Kael turned, surprised. It was Lady Arienne.
He blinked. "What are you doing here?"
She laughed. "You think I'd stay in that boring village forever while you get to chase destiny?"
She approached, hands behind her back, wearing light leather armor—not noblewear.
"I pulled strings," she said. "Turns out my father owes favors. The Academy accepted me on… unusual terms."
Kael was stunned. "You came here… for this?"
She shrugged. "Partly. And partly because I wanted to see how far you'd go. You've changed."
Kael looked down at his hands. "I feel it. I don't know what I'm becoming, but… it's not the scared kid I used to be."
Arienne stepped closer. "Whatever you become, don't lose you."
Later that week, Instructor Rael gathered the top recruits for a field mission.
"You've all shown promise," he said, "but training in the yard doesn't make you a warrior. We're going to the lower tunnels of Mount Draal. There, you'll face real threats. Creatures the nobles pretend don't exist."
Kael's ears perked up.
Mount Draal.
That name… it was in his father's journal. A place tied to an ancient battle. And a forgotten temple.
Rael continued, "This isn't a game. You could die. But if you want to survive in this world, you need to face its darkness."
Kael stepped forward without hesitation.
"I'm ready."
The descent into Mount Draal was like stepping into another world.
The air was thick with magic—dark, twisted magic. The tunnels were vast, carved by ancient creatures. Faint howls echoed in the distance. The group moved carefully, lanterns glowing with mage-light.
Kael felt something calling to him.
Deeper.
He strayed slightly from the group—Arienne beside him—drawn to a narrow side tunnel hidden behind fallen stone.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"I don't know," Kael said. "But it's important."
Against orders, they slipped into the tunnel.
And there, they found it:
A ruined chamber. Markings on the walls. And at the center—a stone pedestal holding a second Divine page.
Kael stepped forward, heart pounding.
As he touched the page, energy burst from the pedestal, lighting the chamber with blue fire.
And then—he heard it.
A voice—not his own—echoed in his mind.
"Child of the lost bloodline. The world remembers your name. And so do we."
Kael staggered back.
Arienne caught him. "Kael—are you okay?"
He looked up, eyes burning with sudden clarity.
"I think… I think I just spoke to them."
[To Be Continued in Chapter 7: Echoes of the Bloodline]