The violet rain had stopped, but its trace still clung to the world.It shimmered faintly on the marble paths of the Academy courtyard, each droplet catching the morning light like fragments of another sky.The air hummed softly a resonance no one could quite name.
Headmistress stood near the northern balcony, her gaze distant, her silver eyes reflecting the rising sun.Behind her, Lyra, Draven, Eira, Srene, and the others waited in uneasy silence. Lumi curled protectively near Lyra's boots, its fur faintly glowing gold. Frost perched on Vale's shoulder, shivering with quiet energy.
Eira finally spoke, her tone calm but heavy.
"The barrier weakened last night. The violet surge wasn't natural… it was called."
Her words echoed through the hall.Draven's jaw tensed. "Called? By whom?"
Eira turned, her expression unreadable. "That's what we must find out. Come with me."
The Hall of Memory
They followed her down a corridor none of them had seen before — a passage lit by floating lanterns that burned with pale blue flames. The walls were etched with murals, half-faded by time: visions of great storms, falling stars, and figures cloaked in radiant colors.
At the end of the hall stood a massive door made of obsidian crystal. Eira placed her hand against it, whispering a word the others couldn't hear.The door melted into mist, revealing a vast chamber beyond The Hall of Memory.
Inside, thousands of lights floated in silence — glowing scrolls, crystal shards, and fragments of paintings suspended midair.The air itself felt alive, filled with the whispers of forgotten stories.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat.
"It feels… familiar," she murmured.Eira nodded. "It should. This is where the first guardians left their echoes."
At the center of the room was a mural, half-covered in ivy and silver dust.Six radiant figures stood beneath a shining sky —
Soft Gold & White,
Blue-Silver ,
Silver-Blue / Pale Cyan,
Gold-White ,
Crimson / Ember Orange,
Violet-Black / Midnight Blue.
But the seventh space was empty. The color that should have been there had vanished, leaving behind only faint violet dust.
Draven stepped closer, his gloved fingers brushing the broken stone.
"Someone erased it," he said quietly."No," Eira corrected. "Time did."
She turned to face them, her voice low and deliberate.
"The Seventh Light was the heart of the balance. The Bond Keeper.But when the world fractured, that light disappeared — erased from every memory, every record, every dream."
Lyra frowned, her fingers trembling slightly. "Then how do I remember it?"
Eira's gaze softened, a faint sorrow flickering behind her composure.
"Because, Lyra… not all bonds forget so easily."
A Fractured Vision
That night, Lyra couldn't sleep.She lay in her dormitory, staring at the faint glow of the moon through the window. Lumi was curled up on her chest, its breathing steady and soft — but her mind was a storm.
She closed her eyes… and the world shifted.
She was no longer in her room.She was standing in an endless field of violet mist. The air shimmered like liquid light, the ground rippling with every breath she took.
A voice called out — soft, distant, but achingly familiar.
"Lyra."
She turned.There — a silhouette standing beneath a broken arch of light, their form hazy, flickering between solid and spectral.A gentle pulse of violet emanated from their chest.
"Who are you?" she asked."You knew me once," the figure replied. "Before the fall. Before the colors slept."
Lyra's pulse raced. The voice — it wasn't frightening. It was warm.Like an echo she'd carried all her life.
"You were not supposed to forget me," the figure said softly."But you did… because the world demanded it."
As the mist swirled, images flickered around her — the Academy as it once was, brighter, alive with hundreds of lights; seven figures standing together beneath a crystal sky; and at the center — the violet one, reaching out toward Lyra as the world began to shatter.
"You're the Seventh Light," she whispered.The figure tilted their head slightly. "No. I was. Now… I am only what remains."
Lyra's eyes glistened. "Why show me this?"
"Because the seal is breaking. And when it does… they'll remember too.But remembrance is not always mercy."
Draven's Awakening
Draven jolted awake in his own chamber, drenched in sweat.He'd seen it too — the violet realm, the same voice whispering through the fog.But his dream was darker. The violet light had shown him a reflection of himself — a shadow-self, holding a broken blade.
"You protect them because you fear losing control," the voice had said."But power without trust burns brighter… and emptier."
Now, as he sat in silence, he felt that same hum in his veins — the color inside him reacting to something unseen.
He clenched his fists. "What are you trying to tell us?"
The Forgotten Mural's Secret
At dawn, Lyra met Draven in the Hall of Memory again.No words were needed; both could feel it — that pulse, that call, pulling them toward the mural.As the first light of morning hit the stone, something changed. The faded cracks began to shimmer faintly, revealing new lines — a hidden symbol carved beneath the ivy.
A small, circular emblem — a ring of seven lights intertwined, and at the center, the faint outline of a hand.
Lumi's fur stood on end. Frost's wings flickered nervously.Eira entered quietly behind them, eyes wide with realization.
"The Bond Keeper's mark," she whispered. "The one who held all six lights together."
Lyra reached toward it, her fingers brushing the stone — and suddenly, the entire chamber resonated.Every crystal, every shard, every echo hummed in harmony. The light danced across the walls like it was alive.
The violet energy pulsed once, deep and soft, like the heartbeat of something ancient something awakening.
The Memory Stirs
Lyra's voice broke the silence, trembling yet resolute.
"They're not gone. I can feel them."
Eira turned to her slowly.
"You mean the Seventh?"
Lyra nodded, eyes glowing faintly gold.
"Yes. But it's not just them… it's us.They're waking through us. The bond never truly broke."
Draven looked at her — not with doubt, but with quiet understanding.
"Then we'll find them," he said. "Even if it means remembering what the world forgot."
The chamber lights dimmed, leaving only the faint violet glimmer reflecting in Lyra's eyes.Somewhere deep beneath the Academy, the earth stirred — a whisper escaping through the cracks of time.
"The Seventh isn't lost," Lyra murmured, almost to herself."They're waiting to be found."
And far below, in the darkness of the sealed vault, a soft heartbeat answered.