The academy gates rose tall and proud, carved with old emblems no one remembered the meaning of anymore. The golden insignia on the main spire shimmered in the morning sun, but beneath that beauty… a storm was brewing.
Ella walked beside Jihoon, every step feeling heavier than the last. Students whispered as they passed, their gazes flickering toward her like moths to an unexpected flame.
"She's the new transfer," someone muttered.
"No, didn't you hear? She's the one who—"
"Hush. Not here."
Their eyes didn't fear her—they were drawn to her. As if they saw something in her even she hadn't fully understood yet.
But Ella felt it.
The dagger hidden beneath her coat pulsed softly, like it remembered blood it hadn't spilled yet.
Jihoon leaned in, his voice low. "They can sense it."
"What?" she asked.
"That you're different. The old magic hasn't walked these halls in decades. And now it's walking… in heels."
She smirked despite herself. "Is that your way of saying I stand out?"
"I'm saying," he replied, holding the door open for her, "you don't belong here. And that's exactly why you have to stay."
Inside the academy, marble floors met towering stained glass windows that painted every corridor in stories long forgotten. But as they entered the main atrium, a strange silence spread. Heads turned.
And then he appeared.
The boy from the tower.
Silver eyes. Raven-black hair. Uniform pressed to perfection. His presence didn't shout—it commanded.
Kai.
He leaned against the staircase, arms folded, watching her like a secret he already knew.
Ella's breath hitched.
Their eyes met—and in that one glance, something stirred. A memory… or was it a promise?
Jihoon stiffened. "Stay away from him."
"Who is he?" she asked.
"Trouble," Jihoon said tightly. "And he knows too much."
Kai pushed off the wall and walked toward them with the lazy grace of someone who had never once been chased.
"New girl," he said. His voice—silky, cold, and yet… oddly familiar. "What's your name?"
"Ella," she answered.
He stepped closer. Too close.
"Wrong," he whispered. "Your name used to be Elarié. Princess of Flame and Phoenix. And I watched you die."
Her blood ran cold.
"How—?"
Before she could react, he lifted a hand—and brushed a single finger against her cheek.
Images exploded in her mind.
A battlefield soaked in ash. Her voice screaming an ancient spell. His lips on hers—then a sword piercing his heart.
She gasped, stumbling back.
Jihoon caught her. "Enough," he growled at Kai.
Kai only smiled. "She remembers now. Whether she wants to or not."
Then, without another word, he walked away—like a ghost who knew he would be chased.
Ella turned to Jihoon, voice shaking. "Why did he say that? What did he show me?"
Jihoon looked away. "Not now."
"No," she said, stepping back. "Tell me!"
But before he could answer—the academy alarms shattered the silence.
BOOM.
An explosion rocked the eastern wing. Students screamed. Flames roared. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Jihoon's eyes went wide. "They've come for you."
Ella spun toward the window and saw them—cloaked figures riding beasts of shadow, cutting through light like blades through silk.
"They're already inside," Kai's voice echoed from above, standing atop the burning staircase like a prince of the underworld.
Ella turned to Jihoon, dagger already in her hand.
"No more running," she said.
Jihoon nodded.
And as fire burst around them, the old academy groaned.
Ella stepped forward through the chaos, the dagger gleaming as if it had waited centuries for this very moment.
And in the flames, they called her name.
"Elarié… come home."
But home was gone.
Now, there was only war.
The sky above the academy cracked like glass, lightning streaking through a darkness that didn't belong to the weather. Shadows slithered over the marble walls like hungry vipers, and students scattered in every direction—some screaming, some frozen in fear, most unaware that the history they read in dusty scrolls was unfolding right before them.
Elarié—no longer just Ella—stood firm. Her grip on the ancient dagger tightened, the weight of her memories crashing down like a wave she couldn't run from anymore.
Jihoon drew his blade too—sleek, black, and forged from Nightsteel, a material known only to those who had bled for the old kingdom.
"They're after your blood," Jihoon said, eyes darting across the flames licking up the wooden banisters. "They know you've awakened."
"I don't care," she whispered. "Let them come."
And come they did.
From the burning east wing, a figure emerged, wrapped in smoke and darkness. His mask was bone-white, etched with runes that shimmered red—a Hunter of the Obsidian Creed. Assassins sworn to destroy every royal heir of the lost realms.
"Elarié of the Phoenix Blood," the figure hissed. "Your death has been delayed long enough."
Jihoon moved in front of her. "You'll touch her over my dead body."
"Gladly," the assassin replied, launching forward.
CLASH.
Steel met shadow in a spark-drenched collision. Jihoon fought like a man possessed—fast, ruthless, burning with a fury that screamed of something personal.
But Ella—no, Elarié—wasn't just a damsel anymore.
She raised her dagger, and the air around her pulsed. Golden fire spiraled from the blade, coiling around her like a living serpent.
The assassin hesitated. "Impossible… that magic was sealed—"
She slashed the air, and a blast of phoenix flame erupted, swallowing the hall in blinding light. The assassin screamed, his body disintegrating into black mist.
The fire faded, and silence fell.
Jihoon turned to her, panting, eyes wide with awe. "You've fully awakened…"
But before he could say more, slow, deliberate claps echoed from the top of the burning staircase.
Kai.
"You were always destined for fire," he said, descending slowly, untouched by the heat, his eyes never leaving hers. "But fire alone won't save you this time."
Elarié met his gaze, trembling with the aftershock of what she'd just unleashed. "You knew this would happen."
"I did," Kai said softly. "And I let it happen because it's the only way you'd remember who you are."
"Who am I?" she whispered.
He reached her, stood inches from her, and leaned in.
His lips brushed her ear.
"You're the last queen of a forgotten kingdom. And they're coming to crown you… or kill you."
The ceiling above groaned.
CRACK.
It gave way—raining debris, ash, and flame.
Jihoon pulled her back just in time.
But in the chaos, Kai vanished.
"Elarié!" Jihoon shouted over the noise. "We have to get out—NOW!"
But Elarié stood frozen.
Because in the dust and smoke, a symbol had burned into the ground beneath her feet—a phoenix wrapped in thorns.
A warning. A prophecy.
And she remembered the rest of the vision Kai had shown her earlier:
Her hands stained with Jihoon's blood.
Kai on his knees, begging her not to choose vengeance.
And her own voice… whispering a name she didn't recognize—Aurellon.
The name echoed now in her mind like a spell waiting to be cast.
"Elarié!" Jihoon yelled again, snapping her out of it. "Come on!"
She turned to him—and nodded.
But as they ran through the collapsing hall, flames chasing them like furious beasts, one thing was certain:
This was no longer about survival.
It was about destiny.
And destiny was coming, sharp and merciless.
They dashed through the ruins of the once-prestigious academy, smoke stinging their eyes, walls groaning, and flames devouring everything in their path. But the fire behind them wasn't just destruction—it was rebirth.
"Elarié—left, now!" Jihoon barked, gripping her wrist as they twisted down a narrow hall.
"Why is this happening now?" she shouted over the roar of the collapsing corridor.
Jihoon didn't answer.
He couldn't.
Because he knew.
The moment she'd kissed Kai, the seal that bound her magic had shattered. The phoenix inside her—the one once bound by ancient blood vows—was awake.
And awake meant war.
They burst through the academy gates, just as the final tower crashed behind them. Students and guards stood outside in a daze, some weeping, some filming the scene with trembling hands, unaware of the ancient war that had just reignited beneath their feet.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
But none of them mattered.
Jihoon turned to her, chest heaving. "You're not safe here anymore. None of us are."
Elarié looked back at the burning academy—her safe place, her cage, her battlefield—all in one.
"I don't even know who I really am," she whispered, voice cracking.
Jihoon stepped closer, brushing soot from her cheek. "You're the last phoenix-blood. The final heir to the lost kingdom of Aurellon. And every assassin of the Obsidian Creed will hunt you now."
"And Kai?" she asked, heart thudding painfully.
Jihoon's jaw tightened. "He's not what you think. He's been playing this game for longer than you've been alive."
A gust of wind swept over them suddenly—icy, unnatural.
From it, a scroll dropped at Elarié's feet, bound in red silk and stamped with the Phoenix sigil.
She picked it up, her fingers trembling.
Inside were six words, burned into the parchment with gold fire:
"Awaken the Ashes. Find the throne."
And beneath it… a time. A location.
Tomorrow. Midnight. The ruins of the old capital.
Jihoon's face paled. "It's a summoning."
"They know I'm alive now," Elarié said, breathless.
"They've always known," he murmured. "They were just waiting for your heart to choose."
She met his gaze.
"It already did."
Lightning cracked again—this time, not from the sky, but from the mark on her wrist. The Phoenix Crest glowed, brighter than ever, and with it, her heartbeat accelerated—faster, louder, more alive.
And then came the pain.
Elarié screamed, falling to her knees as visions flooded her—war, blood, a crown of flames, a boy with silver eyes whispering her name from a battlefield soaked in ash—
"Elarié… save me…"
Jihoon caught her. "Elarié! What did you see?!"
But her voice was gone.
The ground beneath them trembled.
The war for the throne had just begun.
And Elarié wasn't just a player anymore. She was the key.