Rael stood at the edge of the observatory tower, gazing out across the storm-wreathed expanse beyond the academy's enchanted wards. Lightning flared in the distance, casting skeletal branches of white across the clouds. The rain hadn't started yet, but the wind carried its cold scent.
For a rare moment, silence wrapped around him.
The others were scattered — researching, preparing, scheming. Ilyara rested below, her dreams fragile and tangled with old magic. The world pressed forward with momentum, but Rael… he paused.
In that pause, memories stirred.
—
It had begun on the third day of his arrival at the Arcanum Magisterium.
Cassian Gormund had found him first — not through fate, but fists. A training match gone off-script, Cassian swinging like a hurricane, Rael parrying like a storm learned to dance. By the end, neither had won, but both had bled. That was enough.
> "You fight like someone with nothing to lose," Cassian had said, panting, laughing.
"And you fight like someone trying not to lose himself," Rael had answered.
They shook hands after that.
Aelira Caerthyn entered the picture days later — during a forbidden duel behind the North Wall. Rael had intervened before a curse detonated, drawing the backlash into his own spell pattern. Aelira had watched in silence, then approached as the crowd dispersed.
> "You shielded him," she said. "Even though he tried to kill you."
> "Because no one else would," Rael answered.
She nodded once. That was all it took.
Evelyne Thornehart crossed his path during the Midnight Trials — a deadly set of exams cloaked in illusion and ancient spirit wards. Rael had solved the labyrinth by walking into fire. Evelyne, already waiting at the center, raised a brow as he emerged unscathed.
> "You're either mad," she said, "or brilliant."
> "What's the difference?"
She laughed. "You'll do."
And Alric Vyrmor… he had come last.
Not by accident, but observation. For weeks, Alric watched. Measured. Calculated. Then, one night, as Rael returned late from the vaults, Alric stepped from the shadows.
> "You're not what you seem."
> "Neither are you."
They didn't shake hands. They exchanged secrets.
—
Now, standing in the present, Rael closed his eyes.
Five threads.
Five noble houses.
Five pieces of the storm.
And still, none of them knew the full truth.
He turned from the window, cloak fluttering.
It was time.
---
"Everyone's here," Cassian said as the group gathered in the inner sanctum chamber beneath the vault. Ilyara stood at the center, her gaze calm but uncertain.
Rael stepped forward. "There's something you should all know."
They turned toward him, expectant.
He held out his hand. A flicker of draconic sigils shimmered across his palm — marks older than kingdoms, language burned in celestial flame.
> "I wasn't just reborn," he said. "I remembered who I was."
The air stilled.
> "I am Vaelreth Draconis — last Dragon Emperor of the Crimson Epoch. The one who was betrayed, slain, and cast into the void."
Cassian staggered.
Aelira froze, lips parting in disbelief.
Evelyne whispered, "That name was erased from every chronicle."
Alric's voice was low. "Impossible… unless…"
Rael nodded. "Unless history lied."
Ilyara's eyes shimmered with something deeper than awe — recognition.
> "I knew it," she breathed. "I felt the fire in your soul."
Rael stepped into the circle, firelight dancing behind him.
> "And now I've returned… not for vengeance. But to end what was begun."
Silence hung like a blade.
And then, one by one, they bowed.
Not to a student.
But to their Emperor reborn.