The silence after Aelin's funeral was quickly replaced with whispers dark ones.
Rumors spread like wildfire across the academy: A demon killed him. No accident. No misstep. He had been targeted. Hunted. Slaughtered.
Within hours, the academy's atmosphere shifted. The once-glorious Infernal Star now felt like a fortress preparing for siege. Tension buzzed in every corridor. Even the strongest students double-checked their weapons. Teachers tightened the rules. Curfews were reinforced.
And then came the official declaration.
In the Grand Assembly Hall, Master Leander stood before thousands of students. His robes were darker than usual. His aura colder. His words brutally direct.
> "The realms grow unstable. The demon forces, thought dormant, have begun to stir. Their first move was cowardly. One of ours has fallen. Now we answer."
A hush fell as he raised a gloved hand.
> "Seven of you will go to the Netherlands. You will not beg for peace. You will not reason. You will warn. And if they doubt us... you will make them remember."
And just like that, a list of names flared into magical projection behind him.
Six sixth-years. All elite.
And one name that made the hall erupt in shock.
Jade Ryan. First-year.
---
Jade stood before the other six warriors—each one carrying scars, legend, and blood on their blades.
There was:
Valen Corvax, an ice-wielding assassin rumored to have trained under a frost god.
Meira Bladewind, whose sword struck faster than most could blink.
Torrik Flamebound, whose every breath reeked of magma and rage.
Sylverine Shade, a calm but deadly shadowmancer.
Cassian Vale, a cursed noble with a voice that could manipulate minds.
Liora Dawnveil, healer and battle-cleric, and the only one who offered Jade a respectful nod.
Kieran wasn't chosen. But he clasped Jade's arm tightly before departure. "Bring back proof the demons bleed."
Jade smiled faintly. "Or bring back pieces of them."
---
The path to the demon frontier wasn't lined in gold—it was a trail of ashes, ruins, and half-eaten corpses left behind from raids.
They traveled in silence, their assigned teacher Master Viren leading them. A man of few words, he had a mechanical arm and a blade that never left its sheath. His aura was so immense it warped gravity around him.
Days passed in grim quiet. Campfires lit in anti-detection wards. No songs. No laughter.
But Jade watched.
He watched Valen meditate in snow with no shirt. He watched Meira sharpen a blade that already had no flaws. He watched Sylverine smile at corpses in the distance like she knew them.
He knew one thing clearly: he didn't belong.
Not yet.
---
At the seventh dusk, they reached it.
A jagged fortress forged of blackened bone and twisted metal. It pulsed like a living organism. The gates were guarded by horrors—half-men, half-beasts. Twisted forms with too many teeth.
Meira didn't wait. She threw a blade that took out two guards before it landed.
> "We're not here to chat," she hissed. "We're here to announce war."
The group surged in, spells igniting, swords flashing. What followed wasn't a battle—it was carnage.
Jade struck down two lesser fiends with a cyclone-enhanced punch, then followed up with a lightning whip that tore through another's torso.
But deep inside the castle…
The Lord waited.
A horned giant, cloaked in nightmare silk. His aura was cold. Familiar. Jade felt his stomach twist.
The demon lord rose from a bone-throne, smiling.
> "So the green-haired curse arrives… So soon."
Time slowed.
He knew about the prophecy.
---
Without hesitation, the students attacked.
Valen blurred forward with his twin daggers, but was thrown back by invisible force. Torrik launched molten projectiles, which the demon lord caught barehanded.
Jade's pulse pounded. The others attacked again, coordinated and merciless—but the demon was a vortex. Magic bent around him. Swords shattered.
And then he looked at Jade.
Everything stopped.
> "You carry it well, boy. The blood of the First Wyrm. And the Curse of the Jade Flame."
Jade's body shuddered. The markings on his left arm—normally dormant—glowed faintly.
"Shut up," Jade whispered. "You're not a prophet. You're a corpse."
He stepped forward.
---
Jade unleashed everything.
His fists struck with draconic force, each punch echoing like thunder. Fire, wind, and storm surged from his body in layered bursts.
A spell of ancient tongue burst from his lips—one he hadn't even learned consciously. His blood had remembered it.
> "Vortis Aetherial!"
A green inferno erupted, carving a crater into the throne room.
The demon lord staggered.
For the first time in a century.
Snarling, the beast lunged—but Valen's dagger was waiting in his throat. Meira's blade followed, slicing deep. Then Torrik's molten chains wrapped around his limbs.
And finally, Jade leapt—his hair glowing like wildfire—and drove a spear of emerald lightning into the demon's core.
The scream that followed tore open the roof.
The lord crumbled.
Ash.
Silence.
---
The castle began to collapse.
Master Viren grabbed them all in a shield dome, teleporting them out just as the fortress imploded behind them.
They landed outside, panting, burned, bleeding—but alive.
Jade fell to one knee, shaking.
Liora pressed a hand on his shoulder, voice soft. "You just shook the foundations of hell."
And Valen, ever cold, muttered under his breath, "First-year… my ass."
---
Their return was greeted by stunned silence.
The council reviewed the proof. The ashes of the demon lord. His crest. The melted fragment of his throne.
They had done it.
The demon clans would not strike again soon. Not with this kind of warning.
Jade Ryan once whispered as cursed was now the name on every tongue.
A warrior. A storm. A living prophecy.
But late at night, as Jade looked in the mirror of his dorm room, the markings on his arm still glowed faintly. The prophecy had been real.
And it had only just begun.