Prologue 2 - The Headmaster's Shadow

Headmaster Malric Nocturne POV

Eidolon Academy Tower of Silence

The parchment was still warm. It pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat. I didn't need the official seal or the trembling courier who delivered it to know what it was.

I'd felt it. Every ward on campus had. A ripple, no, a rupture, in the fabric of what we call order. Like the realm inhaled too sharply and forgot how to exhale.

I unrolled the report with steady fingers, though the air in my chamber had gone still. Even the shadows were quiet.

INCIDENT REPORT: Location: Hallowmere Public Highschool Subject: Rowyn Vale, 18, low caste fae Event: Magical detonation. Light based. Unclassified origin. Collateral: 3 injured (1 blinded), 1 school wing structurally compromised. Ward failure recorded. Secondary notes: Witnesses report sigils in unknown dialect. Ward glyphs etched into the air.

Unknown dialect. Glyphs in the air.

Divine residue.

My breath stayed even. My heartbeat did not. I flipped to the second page.

Subject apprehended. Sentenced to execution by dawn. Recommendation: Accord ordered termination to avoid exposure risk.

Of course they would. The Obsidian Accord fears what it cannot name. And they have no name for her. Not yet. When they finally find out how powerful this girl will be....the hunt will be fucking relentless. I almost feel bad for her already.

I stood slowly and crossed the room, the dark silk of my coat dragging behind me like fog. The Tower of Silence was high above the Academy, carved into the cliffside, protected by sevenfold sigils and enough anti-divination wards to make even gods blind.

Here, I could speak freely.

I moved to the mirror embedded in the far wall. Not a true mirror, an old relic. Older than the Trials. Older than the Academy. I whispered the phrase.

"Let the ash speak."

The surface shimmered, cracked, and dissolved into black. A figure appeared, half in shadow, half veiled in flame. Hooded. Watching me from somewhere deep beneath the city. The Rebellion.

The Ashen Directive.

Formed in secret after the gods fell. Waiting. Watching. Preparing.

"She's real," I said. The figure didn't ask who. They knew.

"The girl?" they said, voice layered with distortion.

I nodded. "She cracked a warded school in half with instinct alone. Burned glyphs into the air in pre divine tongue. I suspect... it's her. The heir."

"Of the Godkiller?" the voice asked. "You believe that now?"

"I don't believe," I murmured, turning back to the parchment in my hand. "I know."

A pause.

"And?"

"She'll be here within the hour. Alive."

"Then it begins."

I cut the connection before they could say more. Let the Accord believe I'm their loyal Headmaster. Let them play their little games with politics and paranoia. But me?

I'm playing the long game.

I've waited centuries for this. For her. The girl born not to serve the gods, but to end them. The one the Trials can't tame. The storm with a heartbeat.

Rowyn Vale.

By tonight, she would stand on the stones of Eidolon Academy.

And the realm would begin to burn.