Chapter 8: Ash and Oath
The first thing Liora noticed when she awoke was the silence.
The birds that usually sang just before dawn were gone. No distant footsteps from servants preparing the day, no rustling of paper from the student wing. Just silence—deep, oppressive, and wrong.
She sat up slowly, the blankets tangled around her legs. A strange scent lingered in the air, faint but sharp—like burnt iron.
She rose from bed, crossing the room to the window.
And froze.
Smoke.
Thick plumes curled into the early morning sky, rising from the eastern wing of the academy. Panic twisted her stomach. That was the old library. No one ever went there—not unless they were looking for something buried.
Her fingers trembled as she tied her cloak and slipped her dagger into her boot.
Something had begun.
---
By the time she reached the lower halls, students were already flooding the main corridor, voices rising in frightened murmurs. Academy Wardens were yelling for order, herding people toward the mess hall.
Liora moved against the current, slipping through the side passage that led to the eastern annex. No one noticed her.
No one dared.
The smell of smoke was stronger now. She rounded a corner and halted.
The old library was burning. Not wildly—the fire was too precise for that. It burned in a ring, scorched symbols seared into the stone, forming a broken sigil she didn't recognize. At the center of the flames, something glowed red-hot.
She took a cautious step forward—and immediately sensed it.
Magic. Dark and old. Not from Wyrmere. Not even from Warborn.
This was something older.
"You shouldn't be here."
She spun, dagger in hand, before recognizing the voice.
Riven.
His cloak was singed at the edges, and his right sleeve was torn. A gash ran across his jaw, crusted with blood, but his expression was coldly calm.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I was going to ask you the same thing."
He moved to her side, eyes scanning the scene. "This was deliberate. Someone broke in and targeted this place. But they didn't just set it on fire—they tried to erase it."
"Erase what?" Liora asked.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a charred parchment. Only a few symbols remained, but she recognized them.
The sigil of the Mirror Vault.
And Wyrmere.
"They're trying to sever the trail," he said. "Everything that links the prophecy, your family—your power—to this place."
"Who?"
Riven looked her dead in the eye. "The same people who tried to kill your mother."
Liora felt cold all over. "They're still here."
"They never left."
---
Back in Riven's quarters—warded and soundproofed—Liora paced while he cleaned his wound. The space was sparse, almost militant, but every book on the shelves was marked with war sigils and battle histories. Typical.
"This doesn't make sense," she muttered. "Why now?"
"Because you woke the mirror," Riven said simply.
She looked at him. "You helped."
"I know," he said. "Which means I've made myself a target too."
There was no arrogance in his voice now. No teasing or mocking superiority. Just grim certainty.
"You need to leave the academy," he said suddenly.
Liora blinked. "What?"
"Not forever. Just until I find out who's behind this. You're not safe here."
She stepped forward, fists clenched. "I'm not running."
Riven's jaw tightened. "This isn't about pride. If they try again, it won't be a fire. It'll be poison. A blade in your back. Or something worse."
"I can protect myself."
"Maybe. But you don't know who to protect yourself from."
She hated that he was right.
She hated more that she wanted to trust him.
"Then we do this together," she said. "We find out who's behind it. We stop them. But I'm not hiding."
For the first time in days, something flickered behind Riven's eyes—something like respect.
He extended his hand.
"We work together. No lies."
Liora hesitated—then took his hand.
"No lies."
---
By midday, a list of suspects had begun to form.
"It has to be someone with access to the sealed wings," Riven said, laying out the academy's map. "Only upper-level masters and head students have the clearance."
Liora tapped a name. "What about Master Aerin?"
Riven shook his head. "Too cautious. He won't even unlock his own vault unless the Council orders it."
"What about Julia Lysaire?"
Riven flinched slightly. "Julia… doesn't know enough. And she's petty, not strategic."
"Still," Liora murmured, "she hates me."
"That's not unique."
Liora gave him a look.
He smirked, then winced as his jaw pulled on the gash. "Fine. We'll keep her on the list."
They worked in silence for a while longer, circling names, drawing links between past events, student disappearances, council decisions, and ancient sealed texts.
Then a knock echoed through the chamber.
Riven's entire body tensed.
He moved to the door, hand on his sword. "Who is it?"
A voice answered. Familiar. Soft.
"Kael."
Liora exhaled in relief, but Riven remained alert as he opened the door.
Kael stepped inside, his face drawn. "You've both been seen. At the ruins."
"No point hiding it," Riven said. "We know someone's targeting the Wyrmere legacy."
Kael's gaze shifted to Liora. "Then you must come with me. Both of you."
"To where?" she asked.
"The Vault of Thorns."
Riven's eyes widened. "That place is sealed."
"Not to me," Kael said grimly. "And not anymore. There's something there you both need to see. Something even the Council wanted hidden."
Liora nodded. "Let's go."
---
The Vault of Thorns was buried beneath the mountain spine behind the academy, reachable only through a narrow tunnel masked by illusion. Kael's sigil broke the wards, and they descended into the darkness, lanterns casting flickering gold across ancient stone.
At the end of the tunnel was a door of vines petrified into stone. Kael placed his palm to the center.
It bloomed open.
Inside was a chamber of murals—dozens of them, spanning centuries. The walls depicted battles, fallen kings, ancient beasts.
But one mural dominated the far wall.
It showed a girl with fire in her hands, standing before a shattered kingdom.
Liora's breath hitched.
She recognized the crest above the flames. Wyrmere.
"According to legend," Kael said quietly, "this girl would be born once the line of Wyrmere was nearly extinct. A final spark. A curse and a blessing."
Riven stepped closer. "The Flameborn."
Kael nodded. "But the Council feared what she might bring. So they erased every record. Buried every trace."
"And tried to kill my mother," Liora whispered.
"Yes."
The silence was heavy.
Then Kael turned to her, eyes piercing.
"You were never meant to awaken, Liora Vale. But now that you have, there's no undoing it."
"What happens now?" she asked.
Kael's voice was solemn.
"Now you choose what kind of flame you'll become—one that heals... or one that burns the world down."
---
Far above, in the cold halls of the Council chamber, an unseen figure watched a glowing sigil float above their hand.
"The girl has entered the Vault," the figure whispered.
"Then the chains must break," replied another voice in the shadows. "The time has come to unseal the tomb."
And in the Mirror Vault, the cracks spread further.
The thing inside began to stir.