Chapter 24 – Shadow of the Temple
Days had passed since the battle, yet the Academy still breathed in the scent of fear. The sky remained gray, as if sunlight no longer dared to touch these grounds. Repair spells flickered across broken walls, mending stone and steel — but nothing mended the hearts inside.
Seryn walked through the courtyard at dawn. Imperial soldiers guarded every gate, their crimson capes snapping in the wind. Helmets gleamed with golden sigils — symbols of power, dominance, authority. This wasn't a school anymore but a fortress under watch.
Nearby, priests recited prayers, white robes flowing like untouched snow. Their voices carried judgment, not comfort. Seryn felt it — the Academy was no longer trusted.
Eyes followed him as he passed. Curious. Respectful. Nervous. He had stood against demons and survived. He had protected others when death was all around.
But more importantly — he carried the name Daskal.
Exiled or not, no one forgot a name drenched in northern power.
In class, half the seats remained empty. Desks where laughter once echoed now held sealed notebooks — belonging to those who would never return. The instructor tried to speak with confidence, but his voice cracked like broken glass.
"Mana focus practice… for those who remain."
Seryn placed his hand on the glowing orb. Light flickered weakly. Screams… collapsing towers… burning blood… The memories disrupted every breath.
When class ended, the hallways filled with whispers instead of voices. Suitcases rolled. Families called their children home. Fear reshaped the future of everyone here.
No one said it aloud, but the war had carved scars deep into this school.
Seryn ignored the rumors, but the tone of them had changed.
"He's a Daskal." "He shouldn't be here." "What if the attack was connected to him?"
He kept walking.
He had lived through worse words.
He reached the Ritual Division — but stopped at the raised voices inside.
Seraphine stood surrounded by three priests.
"We request access to all ritual research," demanded one, his tone sharpened by entitlement.
Seraphine remained calm. "Ritual study falls under the Academy's authority. You may read reports — but you will not dictate how we learn."
Another priest stepped forward. "Knowledge without purity leads to corruption."
Seraphine's eyes narrowed. "And where was purity when demons entered our walls?"
The priest's tongue froze — then the door opened.
Valen walked in.
Silence obeyed his presence.
"The Academy stands independent," he declared. "And it will remain so."
The priests retreated. But their eyes… said the battle was far from over.
Seryn felt a shift inside himself as he watched them leave.
This wasn't a clash of swords — it was a war of control.
Later, in the courtyard, Seryn sensed a stare piercing through the air.
He turned.
A tall man approached — robes adorned with green-black embroidery, a smile carved with cold elegance.
"Inquisitor Atheon," he introduced himself, voice silk-wrapped steel.
"Seryn Daskal."
This time, Seryn didn't flinch at the name.
Atheon's smile sharpened slightly. "So the rumors are true. A survivor of demons… and a part of the Daskal family."
Seryn answered quietly, "I was cast out. That part is finished."
Atheon tilted his head. "Family does not fade with distance. Blood remains… even if pride is broken."
There was no malice in his tone — only a suggestion.
You are valuable his eyes seemed to say. And valuable things… should be owned.
Seryn turned away. He would not be claimed.
As night fell, Temple seals lit up the towers like caged stars. The Academy glowed — but with vigilance, not hope.
Seryn stared out from his window. Students trembling. Soldiers watching. Priests waiting.
He whispered to the wind:
"They think the battle is over… but this is only the beginning."
He shut the curtains.
In the darkness, his eyes shone gold — unyielding.
They would not chain him.
Not his family. Not the Empire. Not the Temple. Not even fate.
Chains were meant to be broken.
💬 Author's Note: The blades are sheathed — but politics has sharper edges. Seryn stands not in war — but in the shadow of power. ⚔️