Chapter 12: Flame-Bound Flight
Julien stood in the middle of his torn-apart room, the cipher card glowing like a silent witness on his desk.
Veldaric watched him from the doorway—silent, still, like a panther coiled in the shadows. "Say it."
Julien's jaw clenched. "I'll go with you."
"Not good enough."
Julien turned, breath shallow. "Then I'll say this instead: I'll leave the Academy. I'll trust you to protect me. But I won't be leashed. Not yet. Not until I understand what I am."
Veldaric stared at him for a long moment. Then nodded once, slowly.
"That's your last bargain," he said. "After this, you belong to me in full."
Before Julien could answer, a warning bell began to pulse across the dorm floors—deep and low, the kind that wasn't for drills.
Code red. Breach alert.
Veldaric cursed under his breath. "Too late."
Chaos broke like a wave across the lower training levels. The first explosion rocked the tower at its southern base—dorm access, security center. Lights flickered, barriers fell.
Julien sprinted behind Veldaric through hidden transport halls, the marshal's coat flaring behind him like a shadow with purpose.
"Who's attacking?" Julien gasped.
"Collectors," Veldaric growled. "A rogue sect. They want Cipher-blood. They've been tracking the echo from your card since it activated."
They turned a corner—straight into two armed intruders, faces masked, bodies marked with red runes.
Veldaric didn't hesitate. His hand flashed—
Two motionless bodies hit the floor seconds later.
Julien barely saw the movement.
He didn't use magic, Julien realized. He just moved like death.
They reached the sky-dock embedded near the roof level. Veldaric's personal craft shimmered into visibility—a black stealth ship, small but deadly.
Before boarding, Veldaric turned to Julien. "You're not leaving as a student anymore. They'll label you deserter, traitor. That bother you?"
Julien met his eyes. "No."
Because this wasn't just survival anymore.
It was war.
The ship launched just as the tower behind them cracked with fire. In the back compartment, Julien sat cross-legged, eyes locked on the cipher card. It pulsed brighter now, almost alive.
He didn't notice his palm had begun to burn.
Until the flame appeared.
A thread of fire unspooled from the card—dancing across the air like a living thing. It wrapped around his wrist, spun upward, and then—
> Snap.
Something inside his blood unlocked.
Julien gasped, arching forward. Memory and magic exploded inside him.
He saw flashes: a throne wreathed in fire. A seal broken. A woman's voice—Aureline's—whispering a name in a forgotten language.
And in the cockpit, Veldaric turned sharply, feeling it too.
The power. Raw. Old. His.
The mark he'd placed on Julien's chest burned brighter, flaring with golden light.
And the moment he stepped into the cabin, Julien looked up—eyes glowing faint orange.
"Marshal," he said hoarsely, "the Cipher… it isn't just knowledge."
Veldaric moved forward, slow and reverent, one hand cupping Julien's face like he might vanish.
"What is it?"
Julien's voice was calm. Absolute.
"It's inheritance. It's a throne. And I think I just claimed it."