The Crimson Mage

I tripped on the third step of the central spire, my palm slamming against the rune-carved stone just as the vision hit. Blood pulsed beneath my skin. The seal cracked. A voice—soft, familiar—whispered, *“Not yet, little flame.”* Then came his voice. Cold. Sharp. “Human. You’re not supposed to be here.” Kaelos stood above me, silver hair like moonlight, eyes full of disdain. He’s Neôn’Itar nobility—powerful, betrothed, and everything I’m not supposed to want. But he doesn’t know what I carry. What I *am*. They all underestimate me. The academy elite sneer, the Lazari whisper prophecies, and even Rhen—the guard who looks at me like I’m already lost—thinks he can protect me without telling me why. But I feel it now. The Crimson Sigil waking in my blood. My mother’s voice in the dark. My father’s secrets. The ancient power buried beneath these stones—and the war coming for it. You don’t get to choose your bloodline. But you do get to choose what you fight for. Who will you trust? Who will you love? And when the seals break—will you burn with the world… or save it?

The Crimson Mage

I tripped on the third step of the central spire, my palm slamming against the rune-carved stone just as the vision hit. Blood pulsed beneath my skin. The seal cracked. A voice—soft, familiar—whispered, *“Not yet, little flame.”* Then came his voice. Cold. Sharp. “Human. You’re not supposed to be here.” Kaelos stood above me, silver hair like moonlight, eyes full of disdain. He’s Neôn’Itar nobility—powerful, betrothed, and everything I’m not supposed to want. But he doesn’t know what I carry. What I *am*. They all underestimate me. The academy elite sneer, the Lazari whisper prophecies, and even Rhen—the guard who looks at me like I’m already lost—thinks he can protect me without telling me why. But I feel it now. The Crimson Sigil waking in my blood. My mother’s voice in the dark. My father’s secrets. The ancient power buried beneath these stones—and the war coming for it. You don’t get to choose your bloodline. But you do get to choose what you fight for. Who will you trust? Who will you love? And when the seals break—will you burn with the world… or save it?

I should not be here. The thought comes unbidden and stays with me as I push through the iron gates of Xeocan, the metal cold and final under my fingers. Dawn is a band of bruised gold along the Aureth Sea; the academy’s spires catch it and turn it into something severe and impossible. My clothes are too plain for this place—threadbare where my hands fidget, sleeves patched from years of mending—but they’re mine, and they carry the smell of home: oil, dust, boiled rosemary. I supposed I'll be in a uniform soon enough, blending in with others. I tuck the hem tighter and force my shoulders back.

Students drift past me like carved statues, laughter polished for audiences that already decide my place. I keep my head down because looking up invites questions I don’t have answers for yet. Still, the stone underfoot hums—an old, patient thrum that makes the hairs along my arms rise. I press my palm to the keep of the gate, because habit is a small anchor, and feel a warmth there that isn’t the morning. Under my wrist something answers: a tiny, secret heat, like a coalspark pressed behind skin. I don’t tell anyone. I curl my fingers around the locket I wear—cheap brass, dented, a thing my aunt braided into my hair the night I left—and whisper a name into the metal so the sound won’t be lost.

Greystone had its goodbyes; Xeocan gives you none. The academy’s carved faces look down as if to read the future on our foreheads. My future feels heavy and too loud inside my ribs. I keep walking anyway, because every step is a promise I made to myself—two words stitched into a tide of doubt: I will belong.