Chapter 22 – The Third Anchor**
The rain had finally stopped. But the sky remained gray — heavy and unmoving, like the earth itself still remembered the taste of ash and blood. In the courtyard of the Academy, reconstruction spells flickered across cracked stone. Workers moved in silence. No one dared to speak too loudly, as if even words might disturb the fragile calm that hung in the air.
Valen stood near the entrance, a handful of sealed reports in his hand. The faint hum of mana could still be felt in the air, a ghostly echo of the battle that had ended only days ago. Before he could turn toward the main hall, a small group of imperial officers entered the grounds. Their armor bore the crest of the Empire — polished, immaculate, and cold.
The officer in front, a man with sharp eyes and a voice like steel, stopped before Valen. "Archmage Valen," he said. "Dozens of students are dead. Elves, dwarves, sea-born… even nobles from the border duchies. The other races are furious. The Emperor demands answers."
Valen's jaw tightened. "The investigation is underway. We're tracing the mana—" "Spare me the excuses," the man interrupted. "The Empire doesn't want theories. It wants someone to blame."
He turned sharply and left, leaving behind only the echo of his boots.
Seraphine stepped from the shadows of the hall. Her violet robes were torn but regal, her expression unreadable. "They won't leave us in peace," she said quietly. Valen glanced at the crumbling towers above. "Peace isn't something we can afford anymore."
In the Grand Library, Lysandra and Aria sat surrounded by scrolls and fractured crystals. The smell of soot and dust still lingered.
"This sample is different," Aria murmured, holding a glowing shard between her fingers. "The mana traces overlap — human origin and… Temple residue."
Lysandra froze. "Temple techniques? That can't be."
Valen entered just in time to hear her. "Then it wasn't an accident," he said. Seraphine crossed her arms. "Someone inside the Academy used Temple-grade magic. Someone with access."
Silence fell between them. Outside, a repair team replaced shattered windows — but inside, the cracks went much deeper.
Seryn's Side
In a quiet classroom, Seryn sat cross-legged, focusing on his mana flow. The instructor's voice was distant, drowned by the hum of raw energy. And then… a pulse. His vision blurred for a moment, and he felt something stir deep within his chest.
"Stop!" the instructor barked. "You're overextending your channels!"
Seryn blinked, gasping for breath. But even as he nodded, his mind raced. That feeling — that whisper — it wasn't just mana fluctuation. It was a call. A faint, instinctive echo from somewhere beneath the Academy. The name surfaced in his mind like a forgotten dream: The Ritual Graveyard.
That same night, in the archive room, Aria and Lysandra pored over ancient blueprints. Dust coated every corner, and the only light came from Lysandra's floating crystal. Aria traced a faint ink line on the parchment. "The third anchor point… it's here," she said.
Lysandra leaned closer. "But that sector doesn't exist in the current layout." Aria hesitated. "It did — centuries ago. A restricted level below the main library." Lysandra's voice trembled slightly. "The Ritual Archive… where forbidden experiments were recorded."
In the central chamber, Seraphine examined the remains of the broken seals. Each rune flickered as her mana touched it. "Look here," she said to Valen. "A secondary layer was placed over the original Temple sigil. It mimics the mana flow — perfectly enough to hide interference."
Valen's expression hardened. "Someone used Temple energy to mask their presence." Seraphine's tone turned grim. "And that someone… is still within these walls."
Valen placed the reports on the table and stood. "This was no attack," he said. "It was sabotage. From the inside."
Then, from outside, the sound of a bell echoed — deep, metallic, and foreboding. Not the Academy's alarm bell. This one belonged to the Empire.
Through the window, Valen saw black-armored riders approaching the main gate. Behind them marched soldiers bearing the banners of the Imperial Council.
He sighed softly. "Looks like the real war begins now," he muttered.
💬 Author's Note: The battle is over, but the reckoning has begun. As the Empire and the Temple close in, the Academy stands alone — accused, fractured, and haunted by its own secrets. Truth may save them… or destroy what little remains. ⚔️