The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of lantern oil and roasted sweets from the distant festival. The stars shimmered like shards of glass scattered across a velvet sky, and the moon—immense and cold—hung high above the Academy of Fangs.
Ash sat by the edge of the hill overlooking the courtyard, the labyrinth ruins faintly pulsing behind him. His uniform was torn, the sleeves singed, yet his breathing was calm—steady, practiced.The Codex's hum lingered faintly at the edge of his mind, its voice like a soft echo inside a vast chamber.
"You did well, Ash Vale."
He exhaled slowly. "Doesn't feel like it. We barely made it out."
"Survival is not failure. You faced your reflection and overcame it. Few mortals can."
He looked down at his palm, where faint runes glowed like embers beneath the skin. "That mark… it hasn't faded."
"It is a fragment of the labyrinth's will—its core recognized you as both intruder and successor. It will whisper to you until it sleeps again."
Ash frowned. "Successor?"
The Codex didn't respond immediately. The pause stretched long enough for him to hear the wind whisper through the grass.
"In another age," it finally said, "such labyrinths were called Sealed Sanctums—echoes of civilizations that sought immortality through architecture. Each was governed by a mind, a warden. You destroyed one of its bodies, but its mind now knows your soul."
Ash leaned back, gazing at the moon. "So I didn't just survive it. I woke it up."
"Yes. And something else awoke with it."
Down by the festival grounds, laughter had returned to the academy. Students ran between stalls glowing with lanterns, their faces bright with relief that the day's dangers were over.Colorful streamers drifted in the breeze. The scent of spiced cider and sweet bread hung in the air.Music rose again—soft strings and wooden flutes weaving through the crowd.
Selene, Garrick, and Caius found a table near one of the outer pavilions. Selene looked exhausted but smiled faintly as she watched Ash approach.
"You missed the fireworks," she said. "They started right after we got dragged out of that nightmare."
"Fireworks," Garrick muttered, staring into his cup of cider. "We fought a living maze, and someone still thought, 'yeah, now's the time for fireworks.'"
Caius gave a quiet laugh. "Perhaps they wanted to celebrate the survivors."
Ash sat beside them, expression unreadable. "Everyone accounted for?"
Selene nodded. "No fatalities. Though half the arena collapsed. The professors think it was an illusion spell gone wrong."
"They're calling it an accident?" Ash asked.
"Would you prefer they tell everyone a noble student tried to murder his peers during a festival?" Caius's tone was neutral, but his silver eyes gleamed faintly in the lantern light. "Redthorne has influence. The Academy won't risk scandal."
Ash stared into the distance where the labyrinth once stood. "He planned it carefully. Too carefully."
"And yet," murmured the Codex in his mind, "you broke the maze's control before it could claim you. Redthorne will not understand how."
The music swelled again. Lanterns drifted into the night sky, glowing like faint spirits.
Selene leaned back with a sigh. "You know," she said, "after all that, I still can't believe this is how our first festival ended."
Garrick snorted. "Hey, could've been worse. At least no one's dead, and I didn't lose any limbs. That's a win in my book."
Ash smiled faintly. "That's your bar for success?"
"Absolutely," Garrick said. "You have no idea how low my standards are."
Even Caius chuckled softly, though there was a distant edge in his tone. "You laugh now, but Redthorne won't take this humiliation lightly. He's not the type to accept failure."
Selene looked at him. "Do you think he'll try again?"
Caius's gaze turned upward toward the moon, its pale reflection caught in his argent eyes. "Not tonight. He'll wait. Schemes like his take time—and shadows."
Ash remained silent, but in his mind, the Codex's whisper returned, quiet and sharp.
"He will not be your only enemy, Ash Vale. The labyrinth's awakening has stirred something older. The moon tonight burns brighter for a reason."
Later that night, after the crowd had thinned and the festival fires dimmed, Ash walked through the deserted courtyard. The lanterns flickered low, and the wind carried faint echoes of laughter long faded.
He stopped near the statue of Archmage Thalos Greyveil, its stone eyes fixed upon the horizon. The moonlight cast long, thin shadows across the cobblestone.
"He sees you, you know," whispered the Codex. "Greyveil. He's not as blind as the others."
Ash looked up at the statue, the carved staff in its hand glinting faintly with residual enchantment. "What do you mean?"
"The Archmage was once a Warden of a Sanctum himself. He'll recognize what's stirring inside you when the mark blooms."
Ash stared at his palm—the faint sigil pulsing softly in rhythm with his heartbeat. "And when that happens?"
"He will have to choose whether to protect you… or seal you."
The words lingered in the air like frost.
Elsewhere in the academy—In a chamber lit only by candlelight and the crimson glow of runes, Darius Redthorne stood before a mirror of obsidian. His expression was calm, yet the faint tremor in his jaw betrayed restrained fury.
The mirror shimmered, and a distorted reflection of him—twisted, older, crueler—stared back.
"You failed," it said, its voice like steel scraping on glass.
Darius bowed his head. "The labyrinth was unstable. It rejected my command."
"No." The reflection's tone sharpened. "It recognized another. Someone stronger. You've awakened him—the heir to the Archstrategos's will."
Darius's crimson eyes narrowed. "Then I'll crush him before he realizes what he is."
The mirror's surface rippled, revealing faint symbols—the same as the mark glowing on Ash's hand. "You cannot destroy what he embodies. You can only corrupt it."
Darius smiled faintly. "Then that's what I'll do."
Back at the hilltop, Ash sat once more, the night wind rustling through his hair. The Codex's voice was softer now, like a memory fading into sleep.
"Rest now. Tomorrow brings the first shadow of consequence."
He exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the moon. The faint glow of the labyrinth mark pulsed once, then faded into stillness beneath his skin.
Somewhere beneath the academy, far beneath the ruins of the maze, a faint heartbeat echoed in the dark—ancient, patient, waiting.
And as the moon began its descent, the world felt just a little quieter, as though it, too, was holding its breath.