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 sky above Isareth bled in waves of burnt crimson and storm-gray. A wind carried the scent of singed salt and broken wards. Lynchie stood at the edge of the cliff fortress, her cloak snapping in the gale, hair tangled in a dance of defiance. Below her, the valley shimmered with the last of the broken illusions, Spiral glyphs flickering like dying stars across the land.

She couldn't feel her hands—not from cold, but from the residual hum of power still radiating through her palms. The Spiral glyph of Sha-Ur-Vael had branded her soul two nights ago, and she hadn't slept since.

Zev's voice broke through the wind behind her. "It's changed you. The Spiral's marked you more than any book ever warned."

She turned, slow. Her eyes had the faint glow now—silver-blue ink bleeding into the whites, spiraling softly when her heart surged. "It's not the glyph," she said. "It's what I saw when it wrote itself into me."

Zev stepped closer, his expression unreadable—but his jaw was clenched. "You saw the enemy?"

"No." Her voice trembled. "I saw myself. At the center of a ward meant to unravel entire cities."

Zev didn't flinch. "Then you know why they fear you. Why even we must."

"Do you?" she asked, almost too softly. "Because I don't know who 'we' are anymore."

For a heartbeat, nothing. Then, quietly: "You think I'll choose the High Council over you."

Lightning split the horizon behind them, illuminating Zev's face. He didn't move. "I chose to keep you alive."

"I'm not a weapon to be hidden," Lynchie snapped. "I'm not your secret."

Zev's gaze flickered with something unspoken. Pain? Guilt? She couldn't tell. The wind howled louder.

From the shadows of the corridor behind them, Vyen emerged—ashen, robes scorched with soot and Spiral backlash. "We've intercepted a transmission spell from the Mirror-Spoken," he said, urgency threading every word. "They've activated the Spiral Gate at Dusk's Hollow."

Zev's body went rigid. "They weren't supposed to know how."

"They shouldn't," Vyen said. "But the glyph patterns—they're twisted versions of ours. Someone on our side must have taught them."

Lynchie's stomach dropped. The training. The memory. The face behind the glyph. "Sha-Ur-Vael," she whispered.

Vyen's eyes locked on hers. "What did you say?"

"I saw it on a scroll in the mirror realm. It burned its name into my skin." She held up her palm, and the glyph shimmered faintly, as though listening.

"There's more," Vyen said grimly. "They spoke your name, Lynchie. Not a warning. A promise."

A tremor ran through her spine. "What kind of promise?"

Vyen met her eyes, bleak. "That you would open the gate for them."

The wind died for a moment. Silence dropped heavy like stone. Even the Spiral ink in her blood went still.

Zev stepped forward, grabbing her wrist gently, firmly. "Then we find them before they force your hand."

"No," she said. "We let them come."

Zev recoiled. "You can't mean that—"

"I do. Because I need answers. And I won't get them by running."

Behind her, the valley glowed faintly, Spiral Wards blooming like spectral flowers across the battlefield-to-be. The war wasn't waiting for them anymore.

The Shape of Ash and Oath