The Prophesy

Kaelen didn't return to his dorm that night.

He couldn't.

The mark on his wrist hadn't faded. It pulsed under his skin like it was alive, like it had replaced his heartbeat with its own. It was warm to the touch too warm. No matter how tightly he wrapped it with cloth or how hard he tried to ignore it, it throbbed like a brand from the inside out.

He sat on the rooftop of the old west tower abandoned, cracked, and dangerous. But it was the only place he could breathe. Below him, Arcane Academy was still glowing with late-night lights. Students moved like tiny flickers of life between buildings, unaware that a storm was building right above them.

Kaelen stared at the stars, fists clenched.

The Heir of the Hollow Flame? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Every word Darius said echoed in his head, refusing to leave.

"You're the one the prophecy spoke of... the one destined to either free me... or destroy me."

Kaelen shivered.

He didn't want this. He didn't ask for power. He just wanted to pass his exams, graduate, and live a normal life.

But normal was over.

Far beneath the Academy, in a sealed dungeon forgotten by most, something moved.

A blade, black as void, was unsheathed.

Chains rattled.

A hooded figure stood before an ancient gate, surrounded by seven circles of glowing runes. Its face was hidden, but its voice hissed like smoke.

"The Heir has awakened."

From the shadows, another figure emerged. Not human. Its body was twisted, hunched, and dripping with blood-red aura.

"The boy is marked."

The hooded figure nodded. "Then the bloodhunt begins."

Kaelen's body jolted as a chill ran down his spine.

Something was wrong.

He stood up too quickly and nearly tripped. The rooftop suddenly felt... tense. Like the air itself had stopped breathing. The sky darkened not from clouds, but from something unnatural.

Then he heard it.

A whisper.

At first, soft and distant. Then closer. Right behind him.

"Found you... little flame."

Kaelen spun around and came face-to-face with a thing that wasn't human.

It stood on the rooftop like it had grown out of the shadows. Seven eyes. No mouth. Just a swirling void where its face should be. Its limbs were too long, too sharp. Its fingers dripped black ooze that hissed when it touched the stone.

Kaelen's legs refused to move.

The creature tilted its head. The runes on its arms flared to life. "Burn, Heir."

It lunged.

Kaelen screamed and threw his hands up and the air exploded.

A blast of crimson fire erupted from his palms, forming a blazing shield that threw the creature backward. The rooftop cracked under the pressure. Kaelen fell to his knees, eyes wide, staring at his hands.

They were glowing.

Not with light, but with raw, untamed flame. It curled up his arms like living fire, scorching his sleeves but leaving his skin untouched.

"What... the hell...?" he breathed.

The creature hissed and screeched, charging again.

Kaelen had no idea how he was doing it, but his instincts kicked in. He raised his hand, and the fire obeyed. A whip of flame cracked through the air, striking the creature dead-on. It screamed, smoke pouring from its body.

Kaelen didn't stop.

He couldn't stop.

Flames poured out of him like a river set loose. The creature flailed, screeched, and then collapsed in a pile of ash and black ichor.

Kaelen dropped to the ground, gasping.

The fire faded.

Silence returned.

He looked at his hands, still shaking. "I—I just... I killed it."

"You didn't kill it," said a cold voice behind him.

Kaelen didn't even turn this time. "Let me guess... Darius."

"You burned it," Darius said, stepping into view. "That's different. Impressive, really. Most people scream and die when a Blood Reaper comes for them."

Kaelen stood slowly. "What was that thing?"

"A servant of the Old Ones. Sent to assassinate you before your flame awakens fully."

Kaelen's voice broke. "So this is my life now? Hunted? Attacked? Watched by demons and things that should not exist?!"

Darius stared at him for a moment, then crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat.

"You have a choice," he said lowly. "Run. Hide. Get hunted like prey."

He leaned in, his breath warm and cold at once.

"Or stand by my side. Learn what you are. And burn the world before it burns you."

Kaelen trembled. He wanted to say no.

He should say no.

But his hands still crackled with fire. His blood still pulsed with something ancient.

And part of him some deep, dark, forbidden part wanted to know more.

"…I want answers," Kaelen whispered. "If I'm going to survive this, I need to understand everything. No more half-truths."

Darius's lips curved into something between a smile and a smirk.

"Then come with me."

"To where?"

"To the truth," Darius said.

He held out his hand.

Kaelen looked at it.

Hesitated.

Then, slowly, he placed his palm in Darius's.

The mark on his wrist blazed.

And somewhere far away, the prophecy stirred.