That was the first thing Kael Vire remembered — not the gentle kind that comes before sleep, but the kind that presses down on your chest, cold and heavy. His eyes snapped open, and he gasped as if he had forgotten how to breathe.
He was lying on a stone floor, rough and cold beneath his skin. The air was thick with dust, and somewhere in the silence, a faint dripping echoed like a heartbeat. His heart.
Kael pushed himself up slowly. Every muscle ached, and his head throbbed as though something had been taken from it — or hidden. His hands trembled as he noticed the object clutched in his fist:
A black dagger.
Cold. Sharp.
His name was carved into the blade.
**KAEL VIRE.**
"Why do I have this?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and dry. The blade seemed to hum softly in his grip, like it knew something he didn't.
Before he could think more, a loud *creeeaaaak* echoed as the heavy steel door before him opened. A tall figure stood in the doorway, dressed in a long dark coat, his face hidden behind a silver mask.
"You're awake," the man said in a voice colder than the stone. "Good. That means your blood accepted the blade."
Kael blinked. "What… is this place?"
The masked man tilted his head. "This is Shadow School. Welcome to the last place you'