The following morning, Aren awoke feeling strangely exhausted.
At first, he assumed he simply hadn’t slept well.
The previous evening had been filled with too many thoughts.
Professor Selene’s unusual behavior.
The strange symbol she had drawn during class.
The growing rumors spreading through the academy.
None of it had left his mind.
Yet as he sat up in bed, he realized something felt different.
His head was heavy.
Not painful.
Just heavy.
As though he had spent the entire night carrying an invisible weight.
Aren rubbed his eyes.
“Maybe I’m getting sick.”
The explanation sounded reasonable enough.
Unfortunately, the feeling didn’t disappear.
Even after breakfast.
Even after his morning walk to class.
Something lingered at the edge of his awareness.
A sensation he couldn’t quite describe.
Like someone standing behind him.
Watching.
Waiting.
Every time he turned around, however, nobody was there.
The morning lessons passed uneventfully.
For once, no magical tools exploded.
No enchanted objects malfunctioned.
No professors asked suspicious questions.
Aren considered that a victory.
During lunch, he joined Mira beneath a large silver-leaf tree near the academy gardens.
Several students gathered nearby.
Most discussed upcoming assignments.
Others exchanged stories about academy life.
The atmosphere felt relaxed.
Normal.
Until Mira suddenly paused in the middle of a conversation.
Her silver eyes narrowed.
“Aren.”
“Hm?”
“You look tired.”
He sighed.
“That obvious?”
“Very.”
Aren leaned back against the tree.
“Didn’t sleep well.”
“Because of the rumors?”
“Partly.”
He hesitated.
Then added,
“And because I keep feeling like something is…
there.”
Mira frowned.
“There?”
“I know it sounds strange.”
“It usually does when people say things like that.”
Aren laughed.
“Fair enough.”
Still, the feeling remained.
Even now.
A distant pressure resting somewhere beyond sight.
Not threatening.
Not exactly.
Just present.
Mira studied him for several moments.
Then nodded.
“Maybe you should visit the academy healers.”
“I’m not sick.”
“You just said you feel strange.”
“That’s different.”
Mira rolled her eyes.
“Only you would think that’s different.”
For the first time that day, Aren smiled.
Classes ended earlier than usual.
Several professors had been called away for academy business.
Most students celebrated the unexpected free time.
Aren decided to visit the Grand Library.
The massive building had quickly become one of his favorite places.
It was quiet.
Peaceful.
Far away from rumors.
Rows of books stretched endlessly between towering shelves.
Golden lights floated overhead.
The scent of old parchment filled the air.
Perfect.
Aren selected several introductory texts on magical history and settled into a corner.
For the next few hours, he lost himself in reading.
Ancient kingdoms.
Lost civilizations.
Forgotten magical traditions.
The stories fascinated him.
One section in particular caught his attention.
It described relics recovered from ruins older than recorded history.
Most scholars believed these artifacts belonged to a civilization that had vanished thousands of years ago.
Very little was known about them.
Only fragments remained.
Broken records.
Ruined cities.
Ancient legends.
Aren turned another page.
Then froze.
A picture stared back at him.
A symbol.
The same symbol Professor Selene had drawn during class.
His heartbeat quickened.
Why did he recognize it?
Every time he saw it, the same strange familiarity returned.
Yet he had never encountered it before arriving at the academy.
At least, not that he remembered.
Aren continued reading.
Unfortunately, the page contained very little information.
The symbol’s meaning had been lost.
Its purpose unknown.
Scholars had spent centuries trying to understand it.
None had succeeded.
Frustrated, Aren closed the book.
The moment he did—
A voice whispered.
“Find me.”
Aren shot to his feet.
The chair nearly fell backward.
Several nearby students looked over.
Confused.
The library remained silent.
Nobody had spoken.
His pulse raced.
Slowly, he looked around.
Nothing.
No one seemed unusual.
No one appeared to have noticed anything.
Aren sat down again.
Maybe he imagined it.
That had to be the explanation.
After all, hearing mysterious voices was usually a bad sign.
He rubbed his temples.
“Definitely not telling anyone about that.”
Evening approached.
Students gradually returned to their dormitories.
Aren chose a longer route through the academy grounds.
Fresh air would help clear his thoughts.
At least that was the plan.
Instead, the strange feeling returned stronger than before.
The invisible pressure.
The sense of being watched.
The distant presence.
Step by step, it grew.
Until eventually Aren found himself standing near a secluded section of the academy.
He frowned.
This wasn’t the route back to his dormitory.
In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure how he had arrived here.
Ancient stone walls surrounded the area.
Old statues lined the pathway.
Unlike most of the academy, this section appeared abandoned.
Very few students visited.
The place felt older.
Much older.
As though it belonged to a different era.
Aren glanced around.
“I should probably leave.”
Yet he didn’t move.
Something pulled at him.
A silent invitation.
A distant call.
His feet carried him forward.
The pathway eventually ended before a massive stone door.
Vines covered much of its surface.
Ancient runes glowed faintly beneath centuries of wear.
Aren stared.
The door looked impossibly old.
More importantly—
It wasn’t marked on any academy map he had seen.
“What is this place?”
No answer came.
The academy grounds remained quiet.
The evening sun had nearly disappeared.
Long shadows stretched across the stone.
Then the whisper returned.
Clearer this time.
“Closer.”
Aren froze.
His blood turned cold.
He had definitely heard that.
No imagination.
No misunderstanding.
An actual voice.
Yet it didn’t sound normal.
The whisper seemed to echo inside his mind rather than through the air.
Aren took a cautious step backward.
The pressure immediately intensified.
Almost like disappointment.
The sensation was so strange that he nearly laughed.
Was a mysterious voice actually upset with him?
That was ridiculous.
Then another whisper came.
“Awaken.”
The runes on the stone door flickered.
Aren’s eyes widened.
Golden light spread across the ancient surface.
Dust fell from cracks.
The ground trembled slightly.
Far away, somewhere beneath the academy, something answered.
A deep pulse echoed through the earth.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then silence returned.
The light faded.
The runes became dormant once more.
Everything looked normal.
As though nothing had happened.
Aren stood frozen.
“What was that?”
No response came.
Only the evening wind.
At that same moment, deep within Astryx Academy’s highest tower, Professor Selene abruptly looked up from her desk.
She felt it.
A surge of ancient mana.
Brief.
Weak.
Yet unmistakable.
The professor immediately stood.
Her expression darkened.
“Not again.”
Within minutes, magical alarms activated throughout several restricted academy sectors.
Senior professors gathered.
Guardians moved into position.
Ancient detection arrays scanned the grounds.
Yet when the investigation concluded, they found nothing.
No intruder.
No damaged seals.
No activated relics.
Nothing.
Which somehow made the situation worse.
Later that night, Aren finally returned to his dormitory.
Exhaustion overwhelmed him.
The strange encounter replayed endlessly inside his head.
The voice.
The door.
The pulse beneath the academy.
None of it made sense.
Eventually sleep claimed him.
At least, he thought it had.
Because moments later—
Or perhaps hours—
He found himself standing somewhere else.
A vast darkness stretched endlessly in every direction.
No stars.
No sky.
No ground.
Only darkness.
And far ahead…
A throne.
An enormous black throne stood alone within the void.
Ancient.
Silent.
Waiting.
Aren stared in shock.
The structure was larger than a house.
Covered in symbols he somehow recognized despite never seeing them before.
The same ancient symbols connected to the relics.
To the sealed door.
To the mysterious voice.
His heart pounded.
Slowly, he took a step forward.
The darkness trembled.
Then the whisper returned one final time.
Not distant.
Not weak.
Not hidden.
This time it came directly from the throne itself.
A voice older than kingdoms.
Older than history.
Older than memory.
“At last…”
The words echoed through the void.
Aren froze.
The throne remained motionless.
Yet he could feel something awakening.
Something that had been asleep for a very, very long time.
And somehow—
It knew his name.