The chamber beneath the Academy—the one hiding the Pathway Codex—was quiet now. Still. But the echoes of what I had seen there still hadn't faded from my mind.
"You are late," the voice had said.A version of me. Or the real me.A warning… or a challenge.
Back in my room, the blade from the ruins was wrapped in thick cloth and hidden beneath the floorboards, but even so, I could feel its presence, like a heartbeat pulsing beneath the surface of the world.
I had opened something I couldn't yet understand.
And now the Academy was preparing to act.
An Unwelcome Invitation
The summons arrived the next morning.A white envelope, sealed with gold and blue wax—the mark of the Council of Scholars.
Kieran read it over my shoulder. "That's not an invitation. That's a warning."
I nodded. "They're not asking. They're telling me to come."
Elara paced behind us, arms folded. "They waited until now. After all the strange events, after Darian's interrogation. This isn't random."
"They know," I said simply.
Kieran frowned. "Not everything. But enough."
I tightened my cloak around me. "Then I won't give them the chance to control the narrative."
Elara stepped forward, concern in her eyes. "Are you sure about this? Maybe we can get ahead of it. Disappear. Go back to the ruins. Gather more before they lock you down."
I shook my head. "Running now confirms everything they suspect. I need to face them."
Kieran studied me for a moment. "You're doing this the hard way."
I smirked. "It's the only way I know."
Into the Council Hall
The Hall of Scholars was carved from ivory stone, enchanted to shimmer with soft light at all hours. Tall stained-glass windows displayed scenes from the supposed Golden Age of mana—mages casting spells alongside glowing divine figures.
Lies.
The council sat in a semi-circle of ornate chairs on a raised dais, each member robed in white and trimmed in silver. Twelve of them. Only one spoke at first.
High Scholar Venar.He was old—perhaps the oldest man I had ever seen—but his presence was sharp. Eyes like steel, voice like a blade hidden beneath silk.
"Student Sylas," he said, tone polite but distant, "you have been called to account for a series of irregularities."
I bowed slightly. "I am here, as summoned."
"You vanished without clearance," said a woman to his left. "You returned bearing energies that disrupted our mana sensors. You've been spotted frequenting sealed areas of the Academy. And students near your quarters have reported… distortions."
I kept my expression neutral. "I trained. I explored. I sought answers."
Venar leaned forward. "That's precisely what concerns us. Answers to what, Sylas?"
I let the silence linger.
"Truth," I said finally. "About the world. About our history. About the things you've hidden."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
"You make a bold claim," Venar said, though his tone held no surprise. "And yet you offer no proof."
"I offer questions your records can't answer," I said calmly. "Why do the Sealed Archives exist? Why is there a second continent you've removed from the maps? Why do the gods you revere never appear?"
Another ripple of discomfort.
One of the scholars, younger than the rest, stood up. "Enough. This student is no longer speaking in curiosity. This is heresy. He should be—"
Venar raised a hand. "Let him speak."
The chamber fell quiet again.
I took a breath. "You know something's coming. You've seen the signs—mana instability, corrupted beasts, time distortions. But you're treating it like a sickness."
I stepped forward, voice rising. "It's not a disease. It's a summons. A reawakening of something buried."
Venar's eyes narrowed. "And you believe yourself the messenger of this... revelation?"
"No," I said. "But I believe I'm part of it."
The Blade Revealed
It was a gamble.
But if I didn't show them something, they'd bury me in containment cells before the day ended.
I reached into my bag and slowly unwrapped the Servant's blade, holding it flat on my palms.
Gasps filled the chamber.
Even the Council flinched.
The runes on the blade pulsed softly, responding to the chamber's ambient energy.
Venar stood slowly.
"That symbol," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "It hasn't been seen since…"
He didn't finish.
I looked up. "This weapon was forged by something older than mana. Something that fought the Forsaken when they first came."
Another scholar stood. "Where did you find this?"
"In the ruins beneath the Shrouded Highlands. In a temple built long before the first mage towers were ever founded."
Kieran, who had slipped in quietly, now stepped forward. "We were both there. And we both fought something not of this world."
I didn't add what we had truly seen. That part wasn't theirs to hear.
Not yet.
Venar looked down at us, emotion unreadable.
Then he said, "This Council will deliberate. You are dismissed. For now."
I bowed again, slower this time. "Understood."
The Trap Is Sprung
We exited the chamber in silence.
Kieran whispered once we reached the outer halls, "They're going to put a tail on you now."
"I know."
"Then you'll need to move fast."
I nodded. "I've got a plan."
We turned the next corner and came face to face with someone I hadn't expected to see again so soon.
Darian Voss.
His jaw was bruised, and a thin band of red marked the side of his neck—likely where they'd tried to draw out memories through forced binding.
But he was standing tall.
"Voss," I said cautiously.
He nodded once. "They think I don't know anything."
I gave a slight smile. "But you do now."
He looked from me to Kieran. "I want in."
Kieran raised an eyebrow. "On what?"
"Whatever it is you two are planning." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Because whatever's coming? I don't want to be on the wrong side of it."
I studied him for a moment. Darian Voss wasn't someone I trusted easily. But I knew power when I saw it. And determination. He had both.
"Alright," I said. "But if you betray me—"
"You'll end me. Yeah, yeah. You're very scary, Sylas."
I grinned.
He was in.
The Council's Ultimatum
That night, while the Academy slept, a messenger hawk landed on the windowsill of my dorm.
I opened the scroll tied to its leg with growing tension.
It was from Venar. No more wax. No more pomp. Just a sentence.
"If you step foot into the Sealed Archives again, you will be stripped of all rights and cast from the Academy."
No hearing. No second chance.
Just exile.
I handed the scroll to Kieran.
He read it, then lit it on fire with a small flicker of Divin Force.
"They're scared," he said.
I nodded. "And desperate."
Elara joined us moments later, tossing a cloth bundle on the desk. "If they're going to treat us like traitors, we might as well act like them."
Inside the bundle were stolen clearance tokens—keys to restricted zones of the Academy.
I looked up at her.
"We're going deeper," she said. "A lot deeper."
And suddenly, I knew what came next.
The war hadn't begun with armies.
It had begun with whispers.
With keys stolen in the night.
With truths too heavy for the world to carry.
And we were about to uncover the worst of them.