Rowan stumbled back to his dormitory, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The blue flames still burned in his memory—violent, untamed, a force he couldn't control. He had felt their power, felt the weight of something ancient and dangerous pulse through him. And now, everyone seemed to fear him even more than before.
The professors had been horrified. Not just by the destruction he had caused in the duel, but by the magic itself. It wasn't supposed to exist—blue fire, a power so rare and deadly that it hadn't been seen since the war. And Rowan, a complete unknown, had somehow unleashed it.
As he entered his dorm, Rowan felt the walls closing in. He had to figure out why this was happening to him, why the magic had changed. What did it mean?
He stood in the middle of his room, his heart still pounding. The tapping sound from earlier—the sound that had echoed in the arena during his duel—lingered in the back of his mind. It wasn't just a figment of his imagination, was it?
Rowan's eyes darted to the locked door across the room, the one Professor Aldric had warned him to avoid. The very door that had been the source of so much unease.
And then, as if on cue, the tapping started again.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It was soft at first, like a heartbeat, almost rhythmic. It resonated through the thick wooden door, as if the door itself was alive - waiting for him. Rowan froze. His instincts screamed at him to leave it alone, to ignore the sound, to play it safe. But something inside him - something he couldn't quite explain - drove him forward.
His fingers tingled, and the faint memory of the blue flames, the untamed power, surged within him once more. The air in the room seemed to grow charged, as if the very walls were holding their breath.
Rowan stepped closer to the door. The tapping grew louder, more insistent. He could almost hear words now, whispers between the taps, as though the door itself was calling to him.
He didn't understand why, but something inside him felt like he had to open it.
Taking a deep breath, Rowan raised his hand. A strange warmth gathered in his palm, and his fingers flexed involuntarily. Without thinking, he extended his magic, unsure if it would work—or if it would cause another disaster.
To his surprise, the moment his magic touched the door, it responded. The tapping stopped. For a brief second, the silence was so thick, it almost felt suffocating.
And then—click.
The door unlocked. Slowly, as if something heavy had shifted, it creaked open by itself.
Rowan's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't expected this. The door swung open, revealing a dark passage that seemed to stretch beyond the limits of his sight. A damp, cold air wafted out from it, and a strange, unsettling hum filled the air.
He hesitated at the threshold, the shadows of the passage beckoning him forward. It was as if something in the depths of this school had been waiting for him.
A voice whispered, but it wasn't from the halls. It came from within the passage itself.
"Welcome home."
The words were soft, almost too soft to hear, but they reverberated in Rowan's chest. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. It was ancient, as if it had been here forever. It didn't fill him with fear, though. In fact, there was something oddly comforting about it.
Swallowing hard, Rowan stepped forward, his legs heavy as he crossed the threshold into the dark passage. As soon as his foot crossed the line of the doorframe, the passage seemed to come alive, the air around him vibrating with a subtle energy he couldn't quite understand.
The passage stretched on, winding deeper beneath the school, hidden away from the eyes of any student or faculty. Rowan's breath caught as he moved further into the darkened corridor. The walls were rough, uneven stone, but there were faint markings—symbols, almost like runes—carved into the surface. The floor was slick with moisture, and the further he walked, the more the air seemed to thicken with magic.
As Rowan moved deeper, his senses sharpened. The sounds of the academy above him—distant footsteps, laughter, the occasional shout—faded into nothing, replaced by an almost eerie silence. The whispers from the passage seemed to grow louder, surrounding him, echoing through the stones like a memory he couldn't fully grasp.
It was as if he were being drawn into the heart of the academy, the very foundation of Blackthorn.
And then, as though the passage itself recognized him, a faint light flickered in the distance. Rowan's pace quickened, his curiosity igniting. The whispering grew softer, more distant, but the sense of something ancient, something familiar stayed with him.
"Welcome home."
The words seemed to resonate in his bones as he walked toward the light. He didn't know what awaited him at the end of this passage—but he knew, deep down, that this was only the beginning.
As he neared the source of the light, the air around him felt warmer, and the whispers faded into a single, intense hum that felt like it was coming from his very chest.
Rowan took one last step forward. The passage opened up into a vast, hidden chamber—a place that had been untouched for centuries. The walls were adorned with ancient symbols, glowing faintly, as though the passage had been waiting for someone to find it, someone to unlock its secrets.
At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, and upon it lay a stone tablet, engraved with more runes and symbols, some of which Rowan recognized from the carvings along the walls.
The moment he saw it, a strange sensation washed over him, and he realized—this was what had been waiting for him.
The magic was calling. It was pulling him in.
Rowan reached out, his fingers brushing the cold stone. The moment his skin made contact, the room shuddered. The hum that had filled the air intensified, vibrating through his bones. The tablet seemed to pulse beneath his hand, and the symbols on its surface began to glow brighter, casting a flash of light across the chamber.
"Welcome home."
The whisper returned, more insistent this time, as if it were coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The voice echoed in Rowan's mind, and for the briefest of moments, he felt as though he were being drawn into the past, like memories of a time long gone were seeping through the stone itself.
He stepped back, his breath quickening, as the stone tablet shifted. It was subtle at first, like a slow-moving wave. Then, with a loud grinding sound, a portion of the tablet slid open, revealing a hidden compartment inside.
Inside the compartment was a crystal, pulsing with a soft, blue light—the same color as the flames Rowan had conjured during the duel. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. The crystal was smooth, almost alive, its surface covered in intricate carvings. Rowan couldn't help but reach for it.
As his fingers wrapped around the crystal, a jolt of energy shot through his body, searing through him like fire. His vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to distort. He could hear voices now—thousands of voices, all speaking in a language he didn't understand.
Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished. Rowan stumbled backward, clutching the crystal in his hand.
He looked down, his breath catching in his throat. The crystal was burning in his hand, but it didn't hurt. Instead, it felt like it was syncing with his very being, filling the empty spaces inside him with something ancient, something powerful.
The whisper returned.
"You are the heir."
The words felt like a weight pressing down on Rowan's chest. The heir? The heir to what? To this magic? To the academy?
Before he could process it further, a sharp click echoed through the chamber. Rowan turned, his heart racing, to see a door in the far corner of the room had opened. It had been hidden, concealed beneath the stone wall, but now it was wide open, revealing another passageway that seemed to stretch deeper beneath the academy.
Rowan hesitated, the crystal still glowing in his hand, its warmth radiating through him. There was something undeniable in the air—he was meant to follow this path, meant to uncover the secrets that lay hidden beneath Blackthorn. But at the same time, a voice deep inside him warned him to turn back.
Before he could make a decision, a shadow passed through the doorway, and a figure emerged from the darkness.
"I see you've found it."
Rowan's heart skipped a beat. The voice was familiar—Professor Aldric. But there was something different about him now. His eyes, once filled with authority and calculation, were now dark, shadowed with something ancient, something knowing.
"You shouldn't have touched it." The professor's voice was low, almost regretful.
Rowan clutched the crystal tighter, feeling the power hum in his hand. "What is this? What's going on here?"
Professor Aldric's gaze lingered on the crystal, his expression unreadable. "You've awakened something that hasn't stirred in centuries. The Thirteenth House wasn't erased from history, Rowan. It was hidden. Locked away. But now—now it's beginning to stir again."
Rowan's mind raced. The Thirteenth House? What did that mean? And why was he the one who had awakened it?
"You are no ordinary student, Rowan Vale," Professor Aldric continued, stepping closer. "You were chosen—whether you understand it or not. The magic inside you, the blue fire, is a legacy of the Thirteenth House. And it's only just beginning to reveal itself."
Rowan's breath caught. He had always known he was different. But this—this was something far more than he had ever imagined.
"What do you mean?" Rowan asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Professor Aldric's expression softened, though there was a touch of sadness in his eyes. "The Thirteenth House was erased from the world's memory because it was too powerful. It was feared—by the other houses, by the magic factions, by the very founders of Blackthorn. The magic you carry is not only dangerous; it's ancient, a force unlike any other. You are the heir to that power, Rowan. And whether you want it or not, the world will know your name."
Rowan's head spun. He didn't know what to believe anymore. Magic he couldn't control. A legacy he hadn't known existed. And now, an ancient professor revealing that he was meant for something much greater.
"What do I do?" Rowan asked, his voice shaking with uncertainty.
Professor Aldric smiled faintly, though there was a heavy weight to his words. "You embrace it. The power you've unleashed can't be undone, Rowan. You have to learn to control it—or the magic will control you. But know this: you are not alone. Others will come for you, seeking to use your power for their own ends. They will want the Thirteenth House's magic."
The professor stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And when that day comes, you will have to decide who you trust—and who you are willing to fight for."
Rowan's grip on the crystal tightened. He wasn't sure he was ready for any of this—but one thing was clear: his life at Blackthorn Academy had just changed forever.