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

The Spiral lines bled silver in the dim light of the training chamber, humming like a bowstring drawn taut. Lynchie's breath hitched as the ward under her palms flared—alive, resisting, understanding. Her fingers trembled against the glyph-etched obsidian slab. Every Spiral she drew now fought back—not with malice, but with eerie recognition, like an eye turned inward.

"She's binding deeper," whispered Vyen from across the chamber, the sharp click of his staff echoing off the stone walls. "Not just the glyphs. The Spiral listens to her thoughts now."

Lynchie barely heard him. She was lost in it—in the pull, in the memory the glyphs carried. The Sha-Ur-Vael had etched itself not only on the stone but behind her eyes, its haunting curves shimmering whenever she closed them. She could feel the breath of the Librarium within her bones—whispers of knowledge lost, and truths too ancient for sanity. And now, something else. Something newer. Angrier.

A knot of dark blue light burst from her palm and spiraled outward, carving the air in a pattern she did not consciously shape.

Zev stepped in from the archway, his cloak still heavy with dew from the outer ramparts. "You're not supposed to burn through obsidian, Lynchie."

She looked up sharply, sweat glistening down her brow. "I didn't mean to."

There was tension in his voice—more than usual. She read the stiffness in his shoulders, the edge behind his usual smirk. Something had changed.

"The war?" she asked quietly, brushing blackened dust from her sleeve.

Zev nodded. "Two border settlements fell this morning. They used fire-wards we haven't seen since the Elder Wars. Not just wild magic. Strategy. They're being guided."

He met her gaze. "Not who. What. The enemy has a Spiralist."

Silence followed, dense and hot like steam. Vyen's expression darkened.

"No one outside the Librarium has been trained to your level," Vyen said. "That's impossible."

Zev stepped further into the chamber, lowering his voice. "They call her the Mirror-Spoken. Her Spiral work... it's twisted. Warped. But precise. And she's asking for Lynchie by name."

The temperature dropped as if the Spiral lines themselves recoiled.

Lynchie's heart pounded. She didn't recognize the name, but something in her blood did. A distant ache. A pull.

Zev hesitated, then spoke with weight. "Because she's Spiral-born too. And the Librarium didn't keep her."

Lynchie took a step back, suddenly cold. "She was a candidate."

Vyen's face turned pale. "No. She was a failure."

The ward-glow faded from the walls, plunging them into a gray, smudged quiet.

Zev crossed his arms, studying her. "We need to accelerate your training. The High Warden will want you at the siege lines in three days."

Lynchie looked down at her burned hands. The Spiral had changed her—but not enough. The enemy knew her name. They wanted her broken, or bound.

And somewhere across the mountains, a Spiralist she had never met whispered her name into the smoke.

But in the quiet of her chest, something shifted.

The Spiral That Whispers War