The return from the dungeon was quiet—too quiet.
No jokes from Kaen. No arguments from Jax. Not even Rin's usual chatter. Each of them had seen something that left a mark, but Zian couldn't stop replaying one thing:
> "You already know who I am."
Kaen's voice echoed in her head like a whisper wrapped in ice.
That night, while the others returned to their dorms, Zian slipped into the academy's eastern wing—where the old archive room stood locked and forgotten. She didn't care.
Her fingers pulsed with unnatural energy as she pressed them to the rune-locked door. It opened.
Dust clouded the air. Shelves groaned under the weight of forbidden texts and sealed scrolls. Zian moved past them all, drawn to something deeper—something that pulsed when she stepped closer.
There it was. A cracked, black book sealed behind glass. Its title had long since faded.
She shattered the case.
The book opened by itself, pages flipping wildly until one stilled—an inked illustration of twelve angels... and a figure behind them.
A tall shadow.
No wings. No halo. No face.
Just a name carved in an old, forbidden tongue.
Zian traced it with trembling fingers. "Kaen."
She staggered back.
Footsteps echoed behind her. She spun—blade half-drawn.
It was Professor Drayven.
His eyes were colder than ever. "So," he said, "you've finally started to remember."
Zian narrowed her eyes. "What is Kaen?"
Drayven approached slowly. "Something that shouldn't exist. Something even the god you served couldn't destroy."
Her hand clenched. "Why is he here?"
Drayven stopped inches from her. "Maybe to finish what he started."
The words rattled her bones. But Zian didn't back down.
"I'll find out the truth," she swore. "Even if I have to tear this academy apart."
Above them, shadows stirred, listening.
And somewhere far off, Kaen smiled in the dark.