The catacombs beneath Blackthorn Academy were colder than anyone remembered—colder than bone, colder than silence. Roots crept down the stone walls like fingers. Torchlight flickered, throwing shadows across the faded runes. Once, these vaults had been graves. Students who died in war. Professors consumed by their own spells. But now, the dead whispered of something else.
The death of oaths.
Rhoan Vale led the way, guided by the ink-flame sigil over her heart. It pulsed like a heartbeat. At her side, Lyra Corven moved with quiet strength, silver eyes sharp in the dark. Behind them, Rowan Vale traced glowing symbols in the air, his magic trailing like smoke.
They weren't here to mourn.
They were here to wake a forgotten House—one erased by the Twelve. One that had been silenced when the Last Pact was signed.
"Are you sure they'll answer?" Lyra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rhoan glanced at the group behind them—thirteen students, all bound by a thin silver chain. The Chains of Breathless Oaths. "They already have," she said. "I dreamed of them last night. Eleven rings. Each a vow. They called."
The ceiling above them curved into shadow. A stone carving of thirteen clasped hands was half-buried in ivy and time. Lyra touched it, fingers tracing the cold stone.
"They gave up their voices," she murmured. "That was the price of their magic."
Rowan nodded. "And still, their oaths were the purest kind. Magic shaped by truth alone."
They descended the final stair into a wide, circular chamber. Four stone pillars ringed a sunken altar, cracked and quiet. At its center stood a rusted brazier—once a fire of living vows, now cold.
Lyra stepped forward. "This was their altar."
Rhoan approached and placed a small vial beside it. Her blood. Marked with the glowing sigil over her heart.
"My vow," she whispered. "I offer my memory—so they can speak again."
The others followed. One by one, thirteen students placed their vessels: a hushbell. A scroll sealed in wax. A breath held too long. Thirteen offerings. Thirteen silent promises.
Rowan struck flint against steel.
A spark. Then flame.
It burst to life in violet light, roaring up from the brazier like it had been waiting. And with it—voices. Soft, ancient, and everywhere.
"We remember our vows."
"We reclaim our words."
"We break the silence."
Dust rained from the ceiling. The walls trembled. And then—from the fire—shadows took shape.
The first figure was a woman in silver robes, hair falling like moonlight. Two rings glowed at her throat—silent, yet breathing. Behind her came eleven more: armored guardians of the oath, each carrying something sacred—keys, chains, broken scrolls.
Lyra froze. She knew that face.
"Master Aurea," she breathed. "The founder of the Oath House…"
Aurea stepped forward, voice barely a whisper—but it rang through stone.
"Thirteenth Flame," she said, "we are awake."
Rowan rose. "House of Breathless Oaths—welcome back."
Aurea's eyes were filled with sorrow. "We should not exist. Our words fractured reality. We were erased… to protect the world."
Lyra stepped closer. "But your truth was reality. That's why we need you now."
Aurea studied her. Studied Rhoan. Studied Rowan's burning mark.
Then she lifted a hand and drew a glowing ring in the air. "Words may lie. But vows—even breathless ones—can reshape the world."
She turned. One by one, the eleven Wardens placed their hands on the brazier's rim. With each touch, a ring of flame lit up. Each one a broken vow:
To speak truths never written
To guard secrets never shared
To keep promises never made
Until all eleven flared, and the chamber hummed.
Aurea turned back. "You brought us back. But remember: our vows still bind. The world tried to forget us for a reason."
Rhoan stepped forward. "Then we'll rewrite the rules. With truth."
Aurea's silver hair caught the firelight. "Truth isn't always spoken. Sometimes… it's lived."
Wind rushed through the chamber. The brazier blazed—and then shattered.
Thirteen rings of violet flame rose, hovering above the altar.
Below them, thirteen runes lit up in the stone—symbols from the lost Bloodscrolls. The petrified lectern in the corner cracked. The air trembled.
Lyra's eyes widened. "They're paying the price for returning."
Rowan stepped forward, steady. "Then we'll pay it too."
The word PACT glowed in the stone—then shattered. Cracks spread underfoot. Light burst upward.
And far above them… the sky began to change.
Chapter Title: The House That Spoke Again
Later, in the Grand Hall, the storm had reached the surface.
Students crowded in. Archons stood tense. At the center of it all stood Rowan, flanked by Rhoan, Lyra, and the resurrected Aurea.
Thirteen thrones. Thirteen banners. A forgotten House reborn.
Archon Caelan of House Glass broke the silence.
"You've undone the Pact. Their magic is dangerous. Unspoken vows—uncontrolled."
Aurea lifted her hand. Eleven rings shimmered in the air.
"Our magic is bound by truth. Not control. Not fear."
Archon Orla of Ember scowled. "Thirteen Houses will tear the balance apart."
Rowan's voice cut through the hall. "There was never balance. Only silence. The Twelve erased what they feared. Now memory returns."
Lyra stepped forward. "When the Oath House vanished, so did the protections they held. Pacts broke. Chaos followed. We've paid that price long enough."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Stories rising. Old rumors coming back to life.
Professor Kael, old and steady, stepped forward. "A student I once taught broke her vow of silence to stop a curse. She saved her House—but lost half her life."
Aurea bowed her head. "We don't ask for obedience. Just this—honor your word."
She turned to Rowan. "We accept. We will remember."
Above them, the thirteen sigils pulsed as one. The banners snapped in the wind.
Rowan looked out over the gathered Houses. "We stand as thirteen. Not to destroy the Twelve—but to complete them. You can stand with us… or against memory itself."
Silence held for a breath.
Then the Archon of Night stepped forward, her voice like falling stars. "I stand. Not for power. For truth. All thirteen of them."
One by one, the room shifted.
Alliances redrawn.
And when Rowan finally breathed out, he saw Lyra and Rhoan beside him. Steady. Unbroken.
The sky above was no longer cracked.
It was whole.
Thirteen stars. Thirteen truths. And for the first time in centuries—
The House of Breathless Oaths spoke again.