The sky above Magi Core Academy had darkened by the time Aria returned to her dorm. Golden light from enchanted lanterns shimmered along the walkways, students shuffling past in cloaks and soft chatter, oblivious to what had just unfolded in the Headmistress's tower.
Aria didn't sleep.
Couldn't.
She lay in bed, eyes wide open, the words echoing in her head:
"That kind of magic? It watches back."
What did that even mean?
She turned over, staring at the ceiling. Every time she tried to dismiss it as dramatic mysticism, her instincts screamed no. The mimicry. The feeling of being seen. The cold whisper in the air when she drew that gate—
She had to know more.
By the time the second watch bell tolled, Aria had already changed into black robes and quietly slipped from her room, cloak tight around her shoulders. Her destination wasn't listed on any map.
The Forbidden Floor.
Every student knew the rumors—an old section of the Grand Archive, closed off centuries ago, where unstable artifacts and lost tomes were sealed away. Some said they were too dangerous. Others claimed they whispered in your dreams if you read too far.
Naturally, Aria was dying to see it.
She reached the Archive's southern wing. The marble floor gave way to older stone, torches burning low. At the end of the hall: a sealed gate, barred by runes that shimmered faintly with gold and blue.
She knelt.
Focused.
Golden fire swirled around her fingertips as she traced the runes, whispering not words—but intent. The mimicry of Xenric's sigil pulsed in her chest.
The runes flickered.
Then clicked.
The gate shuddered open.
"…Either I'm about to get answers," she whispered to herself, "or eaten by something from the Fourth Era."
She stepped inside.
Dust layered every surface. Ancient scrolls floated inside crystal spheres. Shelves buckled under the weight of unspoken knowledge. But it wasn't just the sight—it was the sound.
No echo. No footsteps. Like magic itself had pressed pause.
Aria's golden eyes glinted in the dim light. Her hands hovered over the tomes, drawn not by title, but pull—a tug in her core, like a spell searching for its caster.
Then she saw it.
A small book, buried beneath shattered wood and a collapsed shelf. It wasn't glowing. It wasn't locked. But it called to her.
She picked it up.
The leather felt warm. Familiar.
She opened it—
And everything changed.
The chamber flashed white.
Then black.
Aria was no longer in the archive.
She stood in a memory. Not her own.
Mountains burned in the distance. Armored mages screamed in languages she didn't understand. A colossal serpent of obsidian and flame wound through a shattered battlefield.
And at its center—
A girl.
Young. Radiant. Alone.
Golden eyes, just like hers.
She raised her hand.
The sky obeyed.
Lightning, flame, stars—all bled into one as she tore the serpent apart.
Aria gasped. The vision vanished. She stumbled backward in the archive, hand clutching the book like a lifeline.
"What the hell was that…"
She didn't know how long she stood there, breathing hard, heart racing.
But the book had changed.
Its cover now bore a single symbol:
A seal.
Familiar. Ancient.
And in a corner of her mind, something whispered:
You've begun.
She left the Forbidden Floor with trembling fingers and a mind on fire.
And still, somehow, she smiled.
Because no matter what the visions meant, one thing was clear:
She was tied to something bigger. Much bigger.
And for once, she wasn't afraid.
She was ready to burn the sky if it meant finding out the truth.