Magic Awakens in a Dire Hour

It had been over a month since the "Nethra Shadow" began haunting the halls of Ardellon. The small resistance led by Lyselle had grown into a full underground movement. They weren’t strong enough yet to launch a direct assault, but each night, something broke, vanished, or changed. It was enough to make the Outer Tower restless.

And it was enough… to awaken something.

---

That morning, Ardellon was cloaked in a strange fog—too thick for the season, too cold for the bright sun overhead. Lyselle felt it the moment she opened her eyes in the underground tunnel. Her Nethra crystal pulsed erratically, as if warning her.

Niran was busy etching a new magic circle into the floor of the old ritual room. Nearby, Therran trained two young boys with wooden spears. They had no real weapons, but courage had begun to take root.

“Magic feels strange today,” Niran said without turning around.

“You felt it too?” Lyselle asked.

“The symbols aren’t responding like they should. It’s as if… some greater magic is cloaking the castle.”

Therran approached them, his brow furrowed. “They might be performing a ritual upstairs. I’ve heard chanting since dawn.”

Lyselle tightened her grip on her crystal. “Or… they’ve awakened something.”

---

At that same moment, in Ardellon’s grand hall, Baroness Lethia stood at the center of a circle of mages. Before her lay a black stone altar. Atop it—the lifeless body of a young boy. Another victim of the rites.

Vaeril stood beside her. “We’re losing control. That shadow mocks us at every turn. If the Central Tower finds out—”

“The Central Tower only cares about results. And I will give them results,” Lethia said, eyes closed. “With blood magic, we can awaken one of the ancient Guardians. Beings who have slept since the First War. It will destroy anything that dares disrupt Ardellon’s balance.”

“Can you control it?” Vaeril asked.

“No,” she said plainly. “But I’m certain we no longer have another choice.”

She raised her hand. The blood on the altar flowed into a dark, ancient symbol—one Lyselle had seen before, long ago, among the ruins.

---

A surge of light exploded across the castle.

Walls trembled. Dust rained down into the underground tunnels. Children screamed. Lyselle’s crystal turned crimson.

“That’s not ordinary magic,” she whispered. “They summoned something.”

Above Ardellon, the sky tore open. From behind the clouds emerged a massive figure—part shadow, part metal. Its eyes were hollow. Its body floated without wings, and with every movement, the earth split beneath it.

“What is that?!” Therran shouted.

Niran stared, pale. “That… that’s a Guardian. A being from the old age. They serve no side. They only destroy what disrupts balance.”

“And to them,” Lyselle said under her breath, “we are the disruption.”

---

Evening fell far too quickly.

The Guardian floated above Ardellon, hurling blasts of energy into the surrounding forest. Part of Grenhal Village went up in flames. Old Lady Letha led the villagers north, seeking shelter in the mountain caves.

Lyselle knew they had no time.

“We have to stop it now—before it finds our tunnel.”

Therran shook his head. “No ordinary weapon will touch that thing.”

“But this crystal… might.”

She held up her Nethra. The fractures had deepened, but it still pulsed with raw energy. She stepped into the ritual room, where the walls still shimmered with old magic.

“Prepare a teleportation circle. Send me to the castle’s center.”

Niran turned to her, eyes wide. “You’ll die.”

“Then I die. But if I succeed, the Guardian dies. And we live.”

---

Moments later, atop the same altar where the sacrifice had taken place, light erupted.

Lyselle emerged in a blaze of magic. Baroness Lethia stepped back in shock. Vaeril drew his staff.

“The girl?!”

“Stop this now!” Lyselle shouted.

“You’re too late,” Lethia spat. “The Guardian is already awake. You can’t defeat it.”

Lyselle looked to the sky. The creature floated, towering and merciless. Her crystal blazed, pulling magic from every corner of the room. The stone floor cracked beneath her feet.

“Then let it see… that I have awakened, too.”

She drove the crystal into the ground.

ZRAAAAAAK!

A wave of energy ripped through the castle. Symbols along the walls flared to life. Teleportation circles shattered. Sealed doors burst open. In the tunnels below, the children felt their bodies lighten. Niran screamed—not in fear, but revelation.

Magic inside them… awakened.

---

The Guardian halted in midair. Its head turned slowly toward Lyselle.

The Baroness screamed, “STAY AWAY FROM HER!”

But it was too late.

The Guardian descended, hovering directly above the altar.

Lyselle stood firm, her body cloaked in silver light. Her eyes burned bright. The crystal in her hand shattered completely—releasing a torrent of white light that wrapped around the Guardian’s body.

The creature shrieked, its voice the sound of metal breaking in half.

Vaeril tried to strike, but the magic pouring from Lyselle’s body threw him against the wall like a rag doll.

“I’m not a sacrifice,” she whispered. “I am the heir.”

The Guardian roared. Its form collapsed inward, folding and twisting into a burst of blinding light. Then—nothing but ash, carried away by the wind.

The Baroness fell to her knees, pale and trembling. “No… This isn’t possible…”

Lyselle stepped toward her.

“Magic doesn’t belong to you,” she said. “And now… I’ll prove it.”

---

Three days after the incident, Ardellon was silent.

The Outer Tower withdrew all of its mages. Baroness Lethia was arrested by a senior emissary of the Central Tower. Her charges: forbidden blood rituals, unlawful sacrifices, and deception of the Arcane Council.

She was executed publicly in Ardellon’s square. Her face remained proud until the final moment—but behind the mask… was fear.

Lyselle did not attend.

She and Niran stood quietly in the ruins of the underground tunnels.

“So… does this mean we won?” Niran asked.

Lyselle shook her head. “Not yet. But we’ve proven one thing. Magic no longer belongs to the Tower.”

She looked up at the sky—now blue and clear, washed of its darkness.

“This is only the beginning.”

And beneath the morning sun, the magic they had hidden for so long… was finally free.