Aren barely slept after the second dream.
Even when exhaustion finally pulled him into unconsciousness, his rest was shallow and uneasy.
Every time he closed his eyes, fragments of the dream returned.
The endless void.
The kneeling shadows.
The ancient throne.
And most importantly—
The warning.
“Do not let him awaken.”
The words echoed through his thoughts long after dawn arrived.
By the time the academy bell rang, Aren was already awake, sitting beside his dormitory window.
Outside, Astryx Academy looked as beautiful as ever.
Students crossed the stone pathways.
Floating lanterns drifted through the air.
Professors hurried toward lecture halls.
Everything appeared normal.
Yet Aren couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed.
Not in the academy.
In himself.
The dreams were becoming clearer.
More detailed.
Almost like memories.
And that frightened him more than anything else.
Because dreams were supposed to be imaginary.
Memories were not.
The morning classes passed slowly.
Aren struggled to focus.
Several times Professor Selene called on him to answer questions.
Fortunately, he managed to respond correctly each time.
Unfortunately, that only seemed to increase her suspicion.
Whenever he answered, she watched him carefully.
As if searching for something hidden beneath the surface.
Mira noticed it too.
During a break between lessons, she approached his desk.
“Professor Selene is watching you again.”
Aren sighed.
“I noticed.”
“Any idea why?”
“Not really.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
The dreams.
The strange incidents.
The ancient symbols.
Everything felt connected somehow.
But Aren lacked enough information to explain any of it.
Mira studied him.
“You’ve been distracted all week.”
Aren looked away.
“I know.”
“Still because of those dreams?”
His head snapped toward her.
“You remembered that?”
Mira raised an eyebrow.
“You mentioned it two days ago.”
“Right.”
For some reason, he hadn’t expected her to remember.
Mira folded her arms.
“You should probably tell someone.”
“Tell them what?”
Aren laughed nervously.
“That I keep dreaming about mysterious thrones and ancient warnings?”
When he put it that way, the situation sounded even worse.
Mira considered that.
“Actually, yes.”
Aren groaned.
“You’re not helping.”
A small smile appeared on her face.
For a brief moment, the tension eased.
Then the academy bell rang.
The break ended.
And reality returned.
That afternoon, Professor Selene assigned an independent research project.
Students were instructed to investigate a historical magical topic of their choice.
The assignment would last several weeks.
Most students immediately chose simple subjects.
Famous battles.
Well-known mages.
Established magical theories.
Aren should have done the same.
Instead, he made a terrible decision.
He chose ancient civilizations.
More specifically—
The Age of Sovereigns.
The moment he wrote the topic down, he knew it was a mistake.
Yet curiosity wouldn’t let him stop.
Every clue seemed to lead back there.
The throne.
The dreams.
Whatever was happening, the answers probably existed somewhere in that forgotten era.
The problem was finding them.
After classes ended, Aren headed toward the restricted archive section of the Grand Library.
Access was limited.
Fortunately, first-year students could enter under supervision.
The archive was quieter than the rest of the library.
Older too.
The shelves contained books so ancient that protective enchantments surrounded many of them.
Dust floated through beams of golden light.
The atmosphere felt almost sacred.
Aren spent hours searching.
Most texts contained little useful information.
Entire sections of history appeared missing.
Records ended abruptly.
Names vanished.
Events lacked explanations.
It was as though someone had intentionally erased pieces of the past.
The deeper he searched, the more obvious it became.
Eventually, he discovered a heavily damaged manuscript hidden behind several newer volumes.
The cover had no title.
Only a faded symbol.
The same symbol he kept seeing everywhere.
Aren carefully opened the book.
Most pages were unreadable.
Time had destroyed much of the text.
Yet several sections remained intact.
His eyes scanned the surviving words.
“The Seven Sovereigns…”
“The Throne…”
“The Seal…”
Aren leaned closer.
His heartbeat quickened.
This was the first document he had found that directly connected those terms.
Then his vision blurred.
Suddenly.
Without warning.
The library vanished.
Aren found himself standing somewhere else.
Not asleep.
Not dreaming.
At least, he didn’t think so.
The world around him had changed completely.
Ancient white stone stretched in every direction.
Massive pillars reached toward a golden sky.
Beautiful gardens surrounded a magnificent palace unlike anything he had ever seen.
For several moments, Aren simply stared.
“What…”
The word died in his throat.
Footsteps echoed nearby.
Slow.
Elegant.
Aren turned.
A woman stood several meters away.
Silver hair flowed down her back like liquid moonlight.
Her eyes shone with a brilliant golden light.
She wore white robes embroidered with symbols Aren somehow recognized.
Ancient symbols.
The same symbols connected to the throne.
For a moment, time itself seemed to stop.
The woman looked at him.
Not through him.
At him.
As though she could actually see him.
Aren’s heart nearly stopped.
“Who are you?”
The woman smiled.
A sad smile.
Gentle.
Yet filled with sorrow.
“Aren.”
His eyes widened.
She knew his name.
How?
Before he could ask, the scene shifted.
The palace trembled.
Distant explosions echoed across the sky.
The woman’s expression darkened.
“It’s happening sooner than expected.”
Aren stepped forward.
“What is happening?”
The silver-haired woman looked toward the horizon.
Far away, darkness covered part of the sky.
An unnatural darkness.
Alive.
Hungry.
Terrifying.
Even from this distance, Aren felt fear.
Someone else’s.
Then he realized something.
This wasn’t a dream.
This was a memory.
The realization hit him like a physical blow.
Not his memory.
Someone else’s.
A fragment from the distant past.
The woman turned back toward him.
For the first time, genuine emotion appeared in her eyes.
Relief.
Sadness.
Hope.
All at once.
“If you can see this…”
Her voice softened.
“Then the seal is failing.”
Aren’s pulse quickened.
“The seal?”
“You must remember.”
The world trembled again.
Cracks spread through the sky.
The palace began dissolving into golden particles.
The memory was breaking apart.
“No, wait!”
Aren rushed forward.
“I don’t understand!”
The silver-haired woman smiled once more.
This time her expression carried determination.
“You were never meant to.”
The palace continued collapsing.
The memory faded rapidly.
Aren desperately tried to hold on.
Tried to remember.
Tried to understand.
Then the woman spoke her final words.
Words that sent a chill through his entire body.
“When the throne calls…”
Her golden eyes met his.
“Do not answer.”
The memory shattered.
Aren stumbled backward.
The archive returned.
Bookshelves surrounded him.
Dust floated through the air.
The library was exactly as it had been before.
Several students sat nearby studying.
None appeared to have noticed anything unusual.
Yet Aren’s entire body trembled.
The vision had felt real.
More real than the dreams.
He remembered every detail.
Every word.
Most importantly—
The silver-haired woman.
She had known his name.
She had spoken directly to him.
And she had warned him.
Just like the mysterious voice in the dream.
Only this warning was different.
Personal.
Urgent.
Terrified.
“When the throne calls…
do not answer.”
Aren stared down at the ancient manuscript.
The pages now appeared completely blank.
Every surviving word had vanished.
As though the book had never contained anything at all.
A chill ran through him.
Far above the academy, within the highest tower, Professor Selene suddenly stood from her desk.
A surge of ancient mana had appeared briefly.
Then vanished.
The same signature she had detected before.
The same impossible energy.
Her expression hardened.
“It’s him again.”
Without hesitation, she left her office.
Because whatever was happening to Aren—
It was accelerating.
And somewhere deep beneath Astryx Academy, hidden behind countless seals and forgotten barriers, ancient runes flickered once more.
For the first time in centuries, a sleeping power stirred.
Waiting.
Listening.
Watching.
And far beyond mortal sight, a black throne sat within endless darkness.
Silent.
Patient.
As if it already knew that the boy was beginning to remember.