Raen didn't sleep that night.
Not with the whispers curling in his skull—half-formed words in languages older than stone. They slithered through his thoughts like phantom smoke. And the ring… it pulsed softly, as if breathing.
Something was alive inside it.
He tried to remove it.
He pulled. Twisted. Even pressed a dagger's edge against the base of his finger.
Blood welled—hot and sharp.
But the ring didn't move.
Then, before his eyes, the cut sealed. Skin stitched itself shut like time reversed. The ring refused pain. Refused freedom.
By dawn, Raen knew one truth:
He wasn't the same boy who entered the ruins.
And maybe, just maybe, he wasn't a boy anymore.
But something else.
Or becoming it.
And yet… fear scraped at his thoughts.
Not fear of the ring's power.
But of the person he might become if he kept wearing it.
At the Academy, chaos spread like a firestorm.
The Testing Hall had been locked down. Guards stormed through corridors. Wards shimmered in the skies like spiderwebs of light. Rumors exploded through every hall—someone had awakened a sealed relic. A deep ward had been breached.
At the eye of the storm stood Head Warden Ceryn—towering in obsidian armor, her eyes glowing faint gold.
"Find the source!" she roared. "I want a name before nightfall!"
But no one suspected Raen.
Not the stablehands.
Not the scholars.
Not even the Warden assigned to keep watch on him.
He was just a servant boy.
Quiet. Invisible.
He returned to his quarters unnoticed.
But the moment he opened the door, his breath caught.
His bed was ripped apart.
His blanket half-burnt, curling like dried leaves.
His books—torn, their pages shredded and scattered like ash.
Someone had searched his things.
Veylan.
Raen's jaw tightened.
Not anger. Not sadness.
Just… cold resolve.
He didn't scream. Didn't curse. Didn't clean.
Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor, closed his eyes—and let the ring guide him.
Initiating Resonance Pulse…
Searching for Echoes…
1 Match Found: Sealed Chamber — Depth: 472 meters below Academy Grounds.
Warning: Entry Forbidden by Royal Edict.
Raen's eyes snapped open.
A sealed chamber? Beneath the academy?
He wasn't curious.
He was pulled.
By the ring.
By something older than command.
He hesitated for just a breath—
Then rose, cloak drawn around him—not for warmth, but for war.
And stepped into the dark.
He moved through shadowed corridors like smoke.
Unseen. Unheard.
But something had changed. His senses stretched farther. His hearing sharpened. Footsteps felt lighter. The ring pulsed—once for left, twice for down. He followed.
Down. Deeper. Through forgotten stairwells smothered in dust and cobwebs.
Until he reached a wall.
Plain. Cold. No marks. No cracks.
But the ring burned suddenly against his skin.
His hand moved on its own—pressed the gem into the stone.
Click.
The wall melted away like mist.
Behind it: a spiraling staircase descending into blackness.
Raen stepped through without looking back.
Far away, beyond mountains and storm-choked skies, a lightning storm raged over jagged cliffs.
Atop a dark spire, a cloaked figure stared into a mirror of obsidian.
In its surface shimmered the image of Raen—descending the spiral steps.
"He's awakened," the figure whispered.
Behind them, something ancient stirred. A voice, like thunder wrapped in dust, rumbled from the dark.
"Then the hunt begins."
And none who bore the relic had ever escaped it.
End of Chapter 2