...(Zia uncovers Academy secrets)
Zia awoke before dawn, her body still humming with the energy of the Crucible. The brazier in her room cast slow, rhythmic pulses of black flame, as though breathing in time with her. It no longer felt like a threat or even a tool. It felt like something alive—watching, waiting.
She dressed in silence, tightening the belt of her flame-colored robes. Outside, the corridors were dark and still, the Academy holding its breath. Her steps echoed as she moved toward the main training halls, where Kaelen had told her to meet him.
But instead of Kaelen, she found a different figure waiting—tall, lean, wearing a hooded crimson cloak stitched with ember-thread runes. His arms were folded, and though his eyes were hidden beneath the hood, Zia could feel them.
"You're early," he said, voice smooth like cooled ash.
"I was told to be."
"Then you were told correctly." He stepped forward, removing his hood. His face was sharp, elegant, marked with a scar that trailed from brow to jawline. "My name is Aerin. I am your new instructor—until you earn passage into the inner sanctum."
"Where's Kaelen?"
"Preparing the deeper layers. He trained your body. I train your perception."
Zia said nothing, but tension grew in her shoulders. Aerin moved with the calm danger of someone who'd walked through fire and come out sharpened.
He gestured for her to follow.
They entered a narrow stairwell, torchlit and spiral, that wound beneath the central tower. Each step descended not just into stone, but into silence. Here, the air was thicker, the heat dry but biting.
"What's down here?" Zia asked.
"Truths. Most of which the Academy has buried."
They reached a chamber carved into the bedrock. It was wide and circular, with seven walls—each carved with ancient symbols. At the center stood a stone slab ringed with obsidian spikes. The stone pulsed faintly.
"This is called the Reliquary," Aerin said. "Before the Academy, before the curses, before the flame chose us—this was here. We don't know who built it. Only that it responds to flamebearers."
Zia moved closer, her runes glowing subtly in response.
"You want me to touch it?" she asked.
"No. I want you to listen to it."
She closed her eyes. The room quieted further—until even the sound of her own breathing felt distant. And then…
Whispers.
Not words exactly. Impressions. Images. A temple engulfed in white fire. A woman with eyes like molten gold. Chains of flame wrapping around a mountain.
Zia stumbled back. "What was that?"
"The stone remembers," Aerin said. "And it speaks to those who've passed the first trial."
He circled the slab. "There are stories buried here that even the Elders fear. But you…" he paused, watching her, "You carry something the others don't."
"Because of the black flame?"
"Because of what it didn't consume."
Zia frowned. "What are you saying?"
"You'll understand soon enough."
He turned and walked to one of the carved walls. With a flick of his fingers, a portion of the wall receded, revealing a hidden passage lit by blue fire. The flames didn't burn—Zia felt no heat from them. Cold flame. Unnatural.
They passed down the tunnel until they reached a door of polished stone, carved with the same strange runes that had appeared on Zia's arms.
"This is a mirror chamber," Aerin said. "You'll face yourself again. Not your fears. Not your memories. But what you might become."
Zia stepped through. The room inside was black glass from floor to ceiling. Her reflection stood in every direction—each slightly different. One wore armor, eyes burning gold. Another was cloaked in shadows, mouth twisted with pain. One sat on a throne of ash, flame curling from her palms.
One version smiled.
Zia took a deep breath. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Choose," Aerin said from behind. "Only one reflection is yours. The others are who you could become—if you give in."
The reflections moved now. One stepped forward—the Zia in armor. "I will conquer the flame. Master it. Rule through it."
Another stepped forward—the shadowed Zia. "I will hide from it. Let it burn the world before it burns me."
A third—Zia on the ash throne—smiled. "I will burn it all. If I must be cursed, let me be the end."
Zia's breath caught. The reflections formed a circle around her.
"I don't want to be any of you," she said.
One last reflection stepped forward. Simple robes. A quiet gaze. Runes glowing like embers—not flames.
Zia stepped toward it. The others screamed.
Flames erupted around her. The chamber pulsed. Mirrors cracked. But Zia did not stop. She reached the final reflection and touched the glass.
It shattered.
She was falling—again—into fire, into light, into herself.
She awoke in the Reliquary chamber, lying beside the stone slab. Aerin sat nearby, arms folded.
"You chose the quiet power," he said. "Most don't. They chase glory or vengeance."
Zia sat up, head pounding. "What happens now?"
"You begin real training. And others will notice you."
He helped her stand. "There is one more thing."
He handed her a scroll. Sealed in wax, marked with the flame rune.
"It's from the inner sanctum. They've summoned you."
Zia stared at it. "Already?"
"Already," Aerin confirmed. "The deeper the flame goes, the faster it spreads."
Zia nodded. She tucked the scroll into her robes and looked back at the Reliquary one last time. The stone was silent again—but she knew now: it wasn't finished speaking. Not yet.
As they walked back through the blue-flamed tunnels, Zia felt it—like the ground beneath the Academy was shifting. Secrets were no longer sleeping.
They were waking.
And so was she.
Later, alone in her chamber, Zia unsealed the scroll. The text within shimmered with shifting script—alive, almost breathing. As she read, her heart pounded. The inner sanctum had called her not just to witness, but to unlock the sealed gate beneath the fifth tower. A gate no student had been allowed to approach.
A choice awaited her.
Not tomorrow. Not later.
Now.