Chapter 13: The Edge of the Forge

The corridor of the Ember Academy was a tunnel of obsidian, the fire runes on the walls pulsing like heartbeats.

Each step echoed—a reminder of the battle still roaring in my mind.

My body was wrecked.

Dried blood caked my face.

The black veins of Aether crawled over my skin like a living curse.

Lirien's amulet, dark and heavy, weighed in my hand.

Nyra walked beside me.

Her shoulder was bandaged by an academy healer.

Her knife was sheathed, but her eyes were sharp—like the wind she commanded.

The relic of Dren pulsed in my pocket.

A purple flash that burned like guilt.

A reminder of the Knight of Wrath... the rift in the sky... the Sins that hunted me.

The Threshold wouldn't stop whispering—

Its voice a roar threatening to break me.

> "The Academy is your forge, Echo. Sharpen yourself, or the throne will cut you."

The woman in the fire robes—who called herself Master Lysara—led us forward.

Her presence was a restrained inferno.

Every step made the runes tremble.

"The Academy is not a refuge," she said, her voice ringing like a hammer on the anvil.

"It's a crucible. The weak burn. The strong are forged. You've survived the first trial—but you are nothing yet."

Her ember eyes locked onto me.

> "Especially you, Arion Vaelis. The Aether marks you. And fire tolerates no secrets."

Nyra growled, her hand brushing her blade.

> "We don't need sermons. What's next?"

Lysara smiled.

There was a blade in that smile.

> "Impatient. Good."

She stopped before a door of obsidian, etched with runes that glowed like blood.

> "The Edge of the Forge. A trial to measure your soul. Survive—and the Academy claims you.

Fail—and your ashes will feed the runes."

The door opened.

A roar hit us—a wind of heat and ash.

We entered a circular arena.

Black sand covered the ground.

The walls rose like a coliseum built of flame.

At the center, a ring of runes pulsed.

And above it... a boy waited.

He was tall.

Ash-white hair.

Eyes red as coal.

His armor gleamed with black scales,

And in his hand, a flame-dancing sword.

His presence filled the arena—

A cold fire that made the air tremble.

> "Vaelis," he said, voice low, slicing.

"The Echo of the Threshold.

My name is Kaelith, firstborn of the House of Flame.

And today, your legend ends."

He raised his sword.

The runes exploded in flame.

A ring of fire surrounded the arena.

Nyra drew her blade.

Wind howled around her—a cyclone of knives.

> "Two against one?" she growled. Her eyes glinting.

"Doesn't seem fair… for him."

Lysara laughed from a balcony above.

> "This is no duel. It's a hunt.

Kaelith is the hunter.

You are the prey.

Survive until the runes dim—and you pass."

She snapped her fingers.

The rune circle pulsed.

The countdown had begun.

Kaelith moved.

His blade cut the air like a comet.

I ran.

My dagger—still stained with ash—blocked the strike by sheer luck.

The impact launched me.

My arm trembled.

Flames licked my skin.

Nyra spun, unleashing her wind.

A slicing storm surged toward Kaelith.

He raised a hand—

A wall of fire devoured the wind, roaring like a beast.

> "Pathetic!" Kaelith roared.

His sword dropped toward Nyra.

She dodged.

Her knife slashed his armor.

But the scales absorbed the blow.

Kaelith laughed.

A sound that froze the blood.

The ground exploded.

Spikes of flame burst up like fangs.

I rolled.

One spike tore my leg—

I screamed.

> "Arion, move!" Nyra shouted.

She hurled a hurricane, slowing Kaelith.

He answered with a burst of fire—

It slammed her into the wall.

She fell.

Gasped.

Then rose again.

Blade gleaming.

The air around her a war vortex.

The Aether screamed inside me.

Begging to be unleashed.

My body trembled.

The black veins squeezed my soul.

Blood dripped from my eyes.

But I couldn't give in.

I clutched Lirien's amulet—searching for her voice.

Silence.

> "You are enough," she had said.

But I wasn't.

Not without a price.

> "Nyra! Cover me!"

I charged Kaelith.

My dagger slashed at his neck—he dodged.

His sword crashed into mine—fire seared my hand.

I screamed.

The Aether erupted.

My eyes flashed violet—

The air fractured.

A purple explosion hurled Kaelith back.

Cracks spidered across his armor.

Pain blinded me.

Blood spilled from my mouth.

The veins spread—like living roots.

Kaelith rose.

His red eyes blazing.

> "Aether!" he roared.

"Forbidden power!"

The ground shook.

A fire dragon erupted.

Not as massive as the masked man's…

But deadly.

Its jaws opened.

Nyra unleashed a hurricane—

It slowed the beast.

Kaelith struck.

His blade slashed toward me.

I rolled.

The edge grazed my chest—

The wound burned like hell.

> "Arion!" Nyra cried.

Her whirlwind shredded the dragon.

But Kaelith reached her.

His fist slammed her into the ground.

She collapsed.

Blood from her mouth.

But her eyes—unyielding.

> "No…" I growled.

The Aether roared.

I stood.

My violet gaze lit the arena.

The air cracked like glass.

The relic in my pocket pulsed.

Its glow matching the runes.

I drew it.

It burned my fingers.

> "It won't end here."

I threw it into the runes.

A purple explosion erupted.

The circle died.

The fire vanished.

Kaelith staggered—his blade faltered.

Lysara clapped above.

Her laugh echoed like a furnace.

> "Impressive," she said.

"You've survived the Edge of the Forge. The Academy accepts you."

But her eyes locked onto me.

She saw the Aether.

The relic.

The secrets.

Kaelith sheathed his sword.

His red eyes still burning into mine.

> "This isn't over, Vaelis," he growled.

"The Aether will destroy you. And I'll be there to see it."

He vanished—in a flash of fire.

Nyra stood, panting.

Blade still in hand.

> "Who the hell was that idiot?" she muttered, wiping blood from her lips.

> "A problem," I said hoarsely.

I picked up the relic.

Its glow was faint now.

Lirien's amulet—heavier than ever.

Lysara descended.

Her robes blazing.

> "Follow me," she said.

"The Academy awaits. But know this—Aether calls to the Sins. And they never sleep."

Her eyes lingered on the relic.

She knew more than she let on.

As we followed her…

A vision struck me.

The obsidian throne.

Blood dripping.

Nyra—dead.

Lirien—fading.

Wrath smiled.

His flaming sword gleamed.

And behind him—

The other Sins rose.

The shadow king.

The ice queen.

The chained beast.

The golden specter.

The figure of mist.

The warrior with blood wings.

> "The Academy is your forge," the Threshold roared.

"But the Sins are your fate."

I looked at Nyra—

Her silhouette against the fire, defying fate.

The throne was closer.

But so were they.

And I, Arion Vaelis…

Would not back down.