PROLOGUE
THE SHADOW OF THE CENTURY
One hundred years ago.
The sky above the continent of Aethoria was torn open.
Where a sun had once been, there was now only a gaping, horrifying rift of absolute darkness. The absence of light, and the presence of Hunger. It was the Void.
Beneath this massive rift in reality itself, the armies of all races—Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and Demihumans—stood united for the first and last time; their shields and swords interlocked, their breath fogging in the unnatural cold. They were the last line of defense. Behind them lay the burning ruins of what had once been a glorious kingdom. And before them, the imminent end approached.
“Hold the line!” a voice echoed, ringing as loud as a bell over the roar of battle.
Elara Dawnshield, the First of Her Name, stood at the vanguard. Her silver armor was shattered, her golden hair coated in blood and ash, but not for a single moment did she falter. In her hand, she held Dawnbreaker, a sword forged in the heart of a fallen star, humming with the desperate prayers of a dying world.
Before her, in the swirling darkness, loomed the Great Demon.
It possessed no fixed shape; rather, it appeared as a storm of shadows and violet lightning. When it extended what seemed to be a colossal claw, reality itself seemed to groan beneath its weight.
“You are finite,” the Demon’s voice resonated, vibrating in the bones of every soldier. “Your light is but a candle in a hurricane.”
Elara raised her sword. The light of the steel shone with a defiant gleam.
“Candles shine even in the darkest reaches of the world!” she cried out. “And today, our light will purge this darkness!”
Elara hoisted Dawnbreaker high, invoking humanity’s sheer, stubborn will to exist for one second longer.
“FOR AETHORIA!” Elara charged.
The collision between Dawnbreaker and the Void created a shockwave that flattened mountains.
For a fleeting instant, the world turned white. The darkness shrieked—a sound that shattered glass across the continent—and then, it imploded.
The Void was repelled. The rift in the sky was sealed.
And in that clash of light and void, the fate of Magicland was sealed in blood.
The Present. City of Valoria. Aethoria.
Master Seamo’s Mansion was filled with the elongated shadows cast by clocks ticking away seconds that felt eternal.
It was the night before entrance into the Arcanum Bellator Academy.
In the main living room, where the fireplace embers emitted barely a dying orange glow, Phantsin Dawnfire sat in a leather armchair far too large and fine for him.
Phantsin stared at his right hand, which was not empty.
In the center of his palm danced a flame.
But it was not like the comforting, orange fire of the hearth. Nor was it the clean, red fire of the Ignis faction he aspired to join tomorrow.
It was a purple flame. Beautiful, hypnotic, and terrifying.
Terrifying because it emitted no heat; on the contrary, it radiated a bone-chilling cold that made his skin crawl. It was consuming the air around it with a barely audible hiss, casting shadows that seemed to move of their own volition across the walls.
Strange... Phantsin thought, as he admired the purple flame.
He knew the stories. He knew this color was the mark of the enemy. The mark of the demons who had killed his parents in that ambush no one ever wanted to explain to him.
And yet, it lived inside him, humming beneath his skin, fighting to get out.
Tomorrow, he would enter the fortress of heroes. Tomorrow, he would have to pretend to be one of them, all while hiding the demon inside.
“Phantsin?”
The voice was merely a small whisper, but to Phantsin, it sounded like thunder.
He slammed his fist shut. The purple flame smothered against his skin, vanishing instantly. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Fear. Pure fear that someone would see him.
He looked up, his eyes wide and guarded.
In the doorway of the room, illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the window, stood his little sister.
Flower.
The little girl wore a white nightgown that was slightly too big for her and hugged a stuffed rabbit with a torn ear against her chest. Her hair was messy from sleep, and her large eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
She looked incredibly small. Incredibly fragile.
“Flower?” Phantsin stood up immediately, hiding his right hand behind his back. “What’s wrong? You should be sleeping. Ellie will wake us up early tomorrow.”
Flower took a hesitant step into the large room.
“I had a nightmare,” she whispered. Her voice trembled. “The sky... the sky was eating the ground, Phantsin. And it was so cold.”
Phantsin felt a lump form in his throat. He walked toward her quickly, his face adopting that stoic mask he wore as armor to hide any weakness.
He knelt in front of her to meet her at eye level.
“It was just a dream, Flower,” Phantsin said softly, placing his left hand—the safe one—on the girl’s shoulder. “There is no cold here. The house is safe. Master Seamo placed the wards himself.”
“But... it felt real,” she sobbed, rubbing an eye. “There were monsters... so many monsters.”
Phantsin looked into her eyes and lied with the conviction of a knight.
“I will take care of the monsters,” Phantsin said, forcing a smile. “I’m your big brother. If any monster dares to step out of your dreams, I’ll reduce it to ashes.”
Flower looked at him. The absolute certainty in her brother’s voice calmed her down a little. She nodded slowly and wiped her tears with the rabbit’s ear.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.” Phantsin stood up and offered her his left hand. “Come on. I’ll take you back to bed.”
Phantsin guided her back down the dark hallway, feeling the warm little hand of his sister in his own.
He tucked her in and pulled the sheets up to her chin. He lingered there for a moment, watching her close her eyes, watching as her breathing leveled out.
“Rest, little one,” he whispered. “I’ll watch the door.”
Phantsin turned toward the window. He gazed out at the distant mountains, where the towers of the Arcanum Bellator Academy were silhouetted against the stars.
He clenched his right hand, the one that hid his secret.
“I will use this,” he swore to the silence of the night. “If I have to be a monster to protect her from the nightmares... then I will be the worst of them all.”
