The silence of the dormitory was comforting—too comforting.
Even as the night sky blanketed the academy grounds in velvet shadow, I felt something inside me stirring. A quiet unease curled in the pit of my stomach, and the whispers from theory class still rang in my ears:
"The cult believes the Demon King will rise again…"
"A savior will descend from the heavens…"
"Marked by a spiral—divine in origin."
I sat by the window for a while, gazing at the moon. Its silver light spilled over the rooftops, tracing the stone paths and towers of the academy like sacred ink. It should have been peaceful.
But my chest tightened with every passing second.
I crawled back into bed, pulled the sheets over my body, and closed my eyes.
And then, like a flood breaking through a fragile dam—the dream came.
---
The sky split open above me.
I stood atop a cliff that stretched beyond sight, the heavens torn like paper, golden blood bleeding from the wounds of the stars. Winds howled with the wails of the damned, and the earth below boiled with blackened fire.
Angels descended in burning arcs, wings aflame, weapons blazing with divine fury. Their cries were beautiful and terrible—symphonies of war and mourning. Against them surged legions of shadow, demons with twisted forms, blades made from bone and hate.
I turned, and there—at the edge of the cliff—stood a woman cloaked in radiant light. Her wings were broken. Her face was smeared with blood, but her eyes… her eyes shone with recognition.
"You were born of Heaven's will," she whispered. "But you must not remember yet. Not until the time is right."
She stepped forward and pressed her hand to my chest.
Pain seared through me.
I screamed, falling to my knees as a symbol—a spiral of golden light—erupted across my skin. It pulsed, alive with a warmth that felt ancient and holy.
And then—
A roar shook the world.
From the sky descended a figure draped in black armor, a jagged crown upon his head. Wings of shadow unfurled, eclipsing the stars.
Azrael.
He walked without haste, as if time bowed to him.
"Child of Heaven," he said. His voice did not echo; it consumed sound. "You are the last light in a world made for darkness."
He raised his hand.
The spiral burned.
The world shattered.
---
I awoke with a cry, lurching upright in my bed, drenched in sweat. My chest heaved, my heart thundered like a war drum. I touched my chest instinctively—and saw it.
The mark.
A spiral, faint but glowing, just below my collarbone.
I stared at it, breathless.
It faded slowly, pulsing once before vanishing into my skin.
"Aether?"
I turned. Cassian was sitting up in his bed, his silver hair tousled, his eyes heavy with sleep.
"You okay?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "You were… shaking."
"I…" I hesitated. "I had a dream."
He frowned. "The nightmare kind?"
I nodded.
"You wanna talk about it?"
I didn't answer right away. Part of me wanted to bury the dream, to pretend it meant nothing. But another part—deeper, truer—wanted to speak it aloud, to test its weight in the world.
"I saw a battlefield," I said slowly. "Angels and demons. A woman… she knew me. She called me something I didn't understand. Then the Demon King appeared."
Cassian's brow furrowed. "That's oddly specific."
"I think it was more than a dream," I said, voice low. "It felt… real. Like a memory I shouldn't have."
He stared at me for a moment, then leaned back on his hands. "Honestly, that's not the weirdest thing I've heard since coming here. You're mysterious as hell, Aether. And you've always had that… aura."
"Aura?"
"You know. The quiet, thoughtful, 'might-be-the-prophesied-savior' kind of aura."
I laughed despite myself. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm just saying" he smirked. "If a spiral starts glowing on your forehead, I'm demanding divine blessings."
We both chuckled, and the tension eased.
A knock at the door interrupted us. A girl's voice followed.
"Are you two awake yet?"
Cassian rolled his eyes. "That's her."
"The light wielder?"
"The one and only. She's probably here to drag us to breakfast like a military drill sergeant."
He opened the door, revealing the same strict-looking face, I have always seen her with—Lyra arms crossed, a slight scowl on her face.
"You're late," she said.
"It's barely dawn."
"Exactly. We're wasting prime study hours."
Cassian groaned. "She's going to make us read the entire demonology textbook before breakfast."
She turned to me. "You look pale."
"I didn't sleep well," I admitted.
She studied me for a second. "Nightmares?"
I nodded.
"Hmph. They're common here. This academy trains more than the body. It tests the soul. Come on. Food will help."
Reluctantly, I got dressed and followed them through the halls.
The morning air was crisp, and the cafeteria buzzed with voices. Students laughed, argued, and debated elemental theory over steaming plates of food.
As I sat between Cassian and Lyra—I watched the students around me. Mages from every corner of the continent. Boys and girls from noble bloodlines and humble origins. All gathered here, all training for the same reason.
To become defenders of the world.
To stop the darkness from returning.
And among them… was me.
A boy with no past.
A mark hidden beneath his skin.
And dreams that whispered of war.
---