Dawn broke grey and cold over Bloodwood Forest. A heavy silence hung in the chilly air.
Nine students stumbled out from the thick tree line. Some limping on legs barely holding them up. Others supported those too weak to walk alone. Their clothes were torn and stained dark-with their own blood, the blood of monsters, or both. Every step left a messy print on the damp ground.
Examiner Veld waited at the forest's edge, his face unreadable, like stone. Behind him, a line of healers stood ready with potions and stretchers, their eyes flicking between the weary survivors and the forest behind them.
"Headcount," Veld said flatly, his voice like ice.
Theron stepped forward first, barely standing. His once-perfect uniform was shredded; burns and cuts in his arms. His face was pale and coated with dirt.
"Nine present. One missing," he said, voice strained.
"Name?"
"Marcus Delvine."
Veld made a slow, deliberate note on his clipboard. "Acceptable losses. The Night Hunt is concluded. Survivors, report to the infirmary for treatment and core collection verification."
No pause. No sympathy from examiner vald.
"Acceptable losses," Helena muttered bitterly, supported by two healers with her side heavily bandaged. "He talks about Marcus like he was broken gear to toss aside."
Aerin said nothing. His shoulder throbbed where the assassin's blade had sliced deep.
But he was alive. Marcus was not.
I chose to save Kael instead of chasing Marcus. That's on me.
"Aerin..."
"Kael was being carried on a stretcher, his face pale as death-but a weak grin tugged at his lips.
"We made it," Kael said, voice barely a whisper. "Told you we'd be fine."
"You're on a stretcher!"
"Minor detail- I'm alive. You're alive. That's what counts." Kael's grin faded as they carried him past. "Marcus though..."
"I know," Aerin replied quietly.
They were herded toward the infirmary. Other students from the different classes had gathered, their faces full of curiosity and fear. Whispers trailed behind Aerin like shadows.
"That's him. The Arclight."
"I heard he killed an Ashen Hand assassin."
"Assassins were hunting him."
"Cursed bloodline. Everyone around him dies."
Aerin kept his head down and kept walking.
---
The infirmary was chaos.
Healers rushed from bed to bed, hands glowing with healing magic that mingled with the sharp scent of blood and bitter potions.
Aerin collapsed onto an empty cot. Lyssa, the kind-eyed healer who had treated him after the ranking matches, knelt beside him.
"This is deep," she said softly, her magic flowing warm and soothing into his shoulder. "You're lucky it missed the artery."
"Yeah. Lucky," Aerin muttered.
Lyssa's hands hovered over the wound a moment longer, eyes narrowing as she studied him. "Your blood... it's unusual."
Aerin tensed. "What do you mean?"
She looked up, concern flickering across her face. "It resists healing magic. Almost like it tries to consume it instead of letting the spell work. Have you always been like this?"
"I don't know. Never needed much healing before."
Lyssa finished the healing and stepped back. "Try to rest. You lost a lot of blood."
As she moved on, Aerin caught her glancing back at him, her gaze sharp, almost suspicious.
Is she watching me? I better be careful...
Across the room, Kael lay unconscious, surrounded by three healers working frantically, their magic glowing brighter than usual.
Aerin tried to stand, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
Prince Theron was there, cleaner now but still wrapped in bandages. His eyes were serious, his usual confidence replaced with something quieter.
"Can we talk? Outside."
---
They walked to a small courtyard bathed in early morning gold. Students rushing to classes hurried past without a glance.
Theron stopped by a cracked fountain and stared into the still water for a long moment.
"I owe you an apology," he said finally.
Aerin blinked. "What?"
Theron ran a hand through his hair, looking awkward. "The ranking matches. I humiliated you. Called you a beggar. Told you you didn't belong here." He looked up. "I was wrong."
"You still beat me."
"In a duel, yes. But last night..." Theron's jaw clenched. "You came back for us. When you heard the scream. You could have run the other way. Saved yourself. Instead, you ran toward danger, courage that is rare even back at the palace , that too ,to help people who treated you like dirt."
He held out his hand. "You saved my life, Arclight. I won't forget it. And I won't treat you like an enemy anymore."
Aerin stared at the hand-the hand of Prince Theron Valdris, ranked second in the academy, the one who'd humiliated him in front of everyone.
He shook it slowly. "Just Aerin is fine."
"Aerin, then." Theron's grip was firm. "And if those Ashen Hand bastards come for you again, they'll have to go through me first."
"You don't have to-"
"Yes, I do. Debt is debt. My family doesn't forget who saves their lives." He glanced toward the main building. "Besides, anyone the Ashen Hand wants dead that badly is probably someone worth keeping alive."
He left before Aerin could say more.
Aerin stood there, mind spinning. He'd made an enemy into an ally. That was... new.
"Quite the character development," a voice said.
Aerin spun. Seren stood at the courtyard entrance, Eclipsa strapped to her back. Her silver hair was messy, dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired but alert.
"You didn't sleep."
"Neither did you." She kept a distance but stepped closer. "How's your friend? The loud one?"
"Kael. He's... they're working on him."
"He'll survive. Tough kid." Her voice was calm, but her eyes hid something deeper. "You made the right choice going back for him instead of chasing Marcus."
"Doesn't feel right. Marcus maybe dead."
"Marcus was probably dead once they took him. You'd have died too if you'd chased alone." Her blue eyes met his, steady and sharp. "At least this way, your friend lives."
"You sound like you've had to make that choice before."
"I have. More times than I care to remember." A flicker of pain crossed her face. "It doesn't get easier."
They stood quietly. The fountain's soft splash was the only sound.
"Why do you keep helping me?" Aerin asked quietly. "You barely know me. Everyone else avoids me like I'm cursed."
She was silent for a long moment, then said: "Because you remind me of someone. Someone who tried to do the right thing even when it cost everything."
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter. They're dead now." She turned to leave, then paused. "Be careful, Aerin. The Ashen Hand doesn't give up. After last night, they know exactly how strong you are. Next time, they'll come prepared."
She walked away.
Aerin stayed behind, trying to unravel what she'd meant. Who had she known? Why did it matter?
Before he could think more, the bells rang out across the academy—three sharp chimes.
Emergency assembly!
All students are summoned.
---
The main hall was packed tight.
Hundreds of students from every division and year jammed inside. The air buzzed with nervous energy and whispered rumors.
Aerin stood near the back with the other S-Class first-years. Kael was still in the infirmary. Theron stood a few rows ahead. Helena sat on a bench, too injured to stand for long.
Seren watched from near a pillar, her cold eyes studying everything.
Suddenly, the hall doors slammed closed. Silence fell instantly.
Headmaster Arvell stepped onto the stage. Behind him stood the four Division Masters, including Master Thorne, his all-black eyes unsettling.
Arvell's ancient gaze swept over the crowd. When he spoke, every word carried weight.
"Last night, ten of our S-Class first-years took part in the traditional Night Hunt. Nine returned alive. One did not."
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Marcus Delvine's body was found two hours ago in Bloodwood Forest." Arvell's face grew grim. "He was not killed by monsters. He was murdered. Drained of every drop of blood. Left as a message."
Fear rippled through the crowd.
"The Ashen Hand has made their intentions clear," Arvell went on. "They have declared war- not on this academy, but on one bloodline. They seek the last heir of the Crimson Emperor."
His eyes locked on Aerin.
"They seek Aerin Valefor Arclight."
Hundreds of eyes fixed on Aerin. Filled with fear, suspicion, fascination, and dread.
Aerin felt Sangreal pulse beneath his cloak. Thump-thump.The sword recognized the attention. Almost like it enjoyed it.
"Marcus Delvine died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Arvell said. "But his death is a warning. The Ashen Hand can reach into this forest. Strike even near academy grounds. And they will kill anyone who stands between them and their target."
Near the pillar, Seren's hand moved slowly toward her spear. Her eyes never left Aerin.
For a heartbeat, he wondered—would she draw it? End the threat here, now, in front of everyone?
Their eyes met.
She didn't draw.
But her hand didn't relax either.
"Aerin Arclight," Arvell's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "My office. Now. The rest of you are dismissed."
The crowd parted as Aerin made his way to the stage, every stare burning into his back. Whispered rumors trailing him like shadows.
"Cursed bloodline."
"Everyone around him dies."
"The Ashen Hand will kill us all trying to get to him."
He climbed the steps and followed Arvell toward the exit.
Before he left, he glanced back.
Seren was still watching. Her hand tight on her spear.
And her face promised a choice was coming.
Duty - or something more.
Which would she choose?