REY_REGINO

Beneath a sky that remembers forgotten names, a rift opens—and the world will never be the same.

Lynchie is no chosen one. Orphaned by fate and burdened by dreams she can't explain, she enters the gates of Vatra Arx, a floating academy suspended between stars and ruin. Within its spell-forged halls, celestial politics, ancient beast trials, and haunting whispers of the First Tongue converge.

But power comes at a cost, and destiny isn't always a gift.

As rival students clash under hidden banners and forbidden factions awaken, Lynchie must survive more than exams—she must survive truths no one dares speak aloud. Truths that twist the stars, silence gods, and splinter the meaning of life itself.

At the edge of prophecy and rebellion, a misfit may wear the crown—if she can remember who she is.

CROWN OF MISFITS

Not with tremors of the earth, but with something far more ancient—resonance. The kind that made the bones remember truths they were never told. The Spiral glyphs continued to swirl across the cracked dome, whispering in old tongues, glowing like constellations sketched into air.

She stood at the center of it all, the violet spirals still etched beneath her skin, humming. Her breath came in sharp, shallow pulls, as though the very atmosphere had changed its mind about being breathable.

"What's happening?" she managed to say.

Zev didn't answer immediately. His eyes scanned the glyphs overhead, his stance defensive now, as though expecting the stone itself to lunge.

"This isn't just a resonance loop," he said finally. "It's a summoning."

The word cut through the room like frost.

"Summoning what?" Lynchie's voice cracked.

Zev turned to her, and for the first time, she saw it—real fear.

The central glyph above them pulsed, expanded, then split into three glowing fragments. Each fragment shot outward, embedding itself into one of the marble pillars that circled the room. The ground shivered again, and cracks spread like lightning bolts through the floor.

From the edges of the dome, a low chant began to rise.

It came from the glyphs themselves.

Elindra… Elindra… Lynchie Elindra…

She pressed her hands over her ears, but it didn't help. The chant lived inside her skull now.

"You activated a sovereign rite," Zev said. "It's bound to you now."

She staggered back. "I didn't mean to! I didn't even know what I was doing!"

"And that's exactly why they chose you," came another voice.

Vyen stood in the shattered doorway, his Archivist robes scorched, his breathing labored. His left arm bled freely, but his eyes glowed—lit not by fear, but revelation.

"You were never supposed to know," he said. "That was the test."

Zev drew a line of silver sigils in the air with two fingers, barring the door behind Vyen. "You should be unconscious. What happened?"

"They came through the outer wards," Vyen said. "Only for a moment, but enough to leave marks. We lost three sentries."

Vyen didn't blink. "The Sigilborne."

Ancient warriors inscribed at birth with living glyphs. Thought extinct. Thought legend.

"They've returned?" Zev asked, his voice low and tight.

Vyen looked at Lynchie. "They didn't return for the Archives. They came for her."

"I'm just a girl with a half-burnt journal," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not—whatever this is."

Zev stepped closer. "You are. You always were."

And the way he looked at her then—like she was both a miracle and a wildfire—made her heart twist painfully.

"Then help me," she whispered. "Don't just stand there and prophesy. Help me stop whatever's coming."

"You'll need to control the glyphs," Vyen said. "Not just feel them. Command them."

A crack sounded behind them—louder, more final.

From its remains stepped a figure cloaked in spiral smoke, runes shifting like serpents across their body. No eyes. No face. Just presence.

Beneath the Shattered Dome