The morning bells rang through Valdrake Academy, their echo swallowed by anxious whispers. It was midterm exam day—a test unlike any other. This time, students would be sent to the Bloodfields of Astaroth, a battlefield sealed since the Great Holy War, to retrieve relics and survive its lingering horrors.
But behind the pomp and ceremony, darker forces stirred. The Weeping Thorns Court, unseen and vengeful, had conspired with jealous noble houses to remove Rael forever. They had twisted the exam into a deathtrap: a pact with ancient horrors bound to the fields. Only Rael's secret alliance with the six patriarchs—now bound by the Æsigil Primus—stood between him and oblivion.
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The Assembly
In the Great Hall, Grandmaster Veyron's voice boomed.
> "Subjects of Valdrake: today you prove your worth not with quills, but with courage! Proceed to the Bloodfields, retrieve the Echo Shard, and return within the hour. May the Arcane Light guide you."
Rael stood among his classmates—nobles from every house—his black mantle folded neatly over his arm. Cassian Valebright, Aelira Virelyn, Evelyne Duskmoor, and Alric Thorneward flanked him, their presence a silent guard. The other students eyed Rael with veiled hostility: House Felwyn still smarted from Lucien's humiliation; House Drayven and House Meridia whispered of assassins watching the academy walls.
As each class line stepped onto the glowing runic portals, Rael observed flickers of doubt in their eyes—flickers born of fear, not knowing the Bloodfields were meant to be reality. The Weeping Thorns Court had shattered the wards centuries ago; a curse lay in wait. But Rael was no ordinary student. He nodded to his allies and stepped forward.
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Arrival in the Bloodfields
Light cracked around him, and in an instant, Rael found himself amid ashen skies and fractured banners. The stench of sulfur rose from cracked earth. Ghostly battalions from the Holy War flickered in and out of existence, locked in endless combat. Crumbling towers bore runic scars that bled black ichor.
Rael touched the wooden hilt of his practice sword—the humble vessel of his might—and whispered an Old Tongue incantation. The runes glowed golden, dispelling the nearest wraiths. Behind him, Cassian, Aelira, Evelyne, and Alric materialized.
> "This… is madness," Cassian murmured, drawing his star-forged blade.
> "A trap," Aelira said, channeling wind wards to clear a path.
> "Then we burn away the lies," Rael replied.
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Unseen Threats
As the allied five advanced, wraith-knights—souls of ancient soldiers—rose from the ground. Their voices were screams, their swords forged from despair. But Rael's sword cut through them with ease; his allies moved in perfect synergy:
Cassian wove illusions of starlight, disorienting skeleton archers.
Aelira summoned gale slashes, scattering phantom cavalry.
Evelyne struck from the shadows, her daggers disrupting foul enchantments.
Alric swung his greatsword in disciplined arcs, shielding the group from spectral lances.
Mid-battle, Rael sensed a pulse—a fetid aura at the fortress's ruined gate. It was the Echo Shard, a shard of crystallized echo energy once used to bind deities in the Holy War. Retrieving it would complete the exam—but the Weeping Thorns Court had engineered its corruption. Touching it could unleash the Crown of Thorns: a living curse that devours the soul.
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The Confrontation
Approaching the gate, Rael's mind drifted back to a letter delivered at midnight: a black letter sealed by an unknown sigil. Its message had been simple: "The final exam is your funeral." Now he understood why. But the patriarchs' vow burned within him; he would not die.
A low chant rose from the broken ramparts. A figure cloaked in rotted violet robes emerged—the Thorn Matron, emissary of the Weeping Thorns Court. Her eyes were hollow, her voice like cracking wood.
> "Dragon Emperor reborn, yield the shard, and we spare your precious allies."
Rael did not flinch.
> "The shard belongs to those who remember truth, not those who resent it."
The Thorn Matron snapped her fingers. The Echo Shard leapt from its pedestal into her hand—shards of broken light coalescing. As she bit the shard, her form twisted into a monstrous shape: a queen of thorns, half-flesh, half-nightshade.
> "Then die."
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Rael's Ascendancy
The battlefield shifted. Wraith-knights reformed around Rael's friends; the Thorn Matron's corruption spread like wildfire. But Rael stepped forward, cloak swirling. He placed one hand on the ground, uttering a single word in the Draconic Tongue: "Veyrathi!"
Lightning lanced from the sky. The earth cracked, revealing veins of glowing draconic crystals. Rael drew upon the Primus Sigil, not as a student, but as Vaelreth Draconis reborn. His power erupted like a supernova:
1. Crown of Starfire: A halo of blazing stars circled him, incinerating wraiths on contact.
2. Dragon's Roar: A shockwave of raw magic shattered the Thorn Matron's corrupted form, forcing her to revert to a human shape.
3. Memory Surge: He unleashed a pulse that restored the ancient wards, binding the corrupted Echo Shard back to its rightful purpose.
In that moment, Rael's allies watched in awe. Even the ghosts froze, bound by his sovereign will.
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The Aftermath
The Thorn Matron collapsed, clutching her throat, her curse unraveling. The Bloodfields' swirling mist cleared. The Echo Shard, now purified, hummed with pure echo-energy. Rael stepped forward and gently touched it; its glow flared once, then dimmed. The exam was won.
Cassian knelt, awe in his voice: "You are… more than we dreamed."
Aelira bowed her head. "Dragon Emperor."
Evelyne cracked a rare genuine smile. "Guess I was wrong about you."
Alric placed a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back, Your Majesty."
Rael nodded once. "We walk a path of ash and silver. Today we survived… now we prepare."
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Return to Valdrake
When the five returned through the portal, the academy grounds were bustling. Teachers and students alike gazed at them in stunned silence. News of their survival, and of Rael's unmatchable display, spread like wildfire.
Grandmaster Veyron, eyes wide, could only whisper, "He… surpassed every record."
From the shadows, a single figure watched: a cloaked messenger of the Weeping Thorns Court, his hollow gaze seething. He vanished into the night.
Rael, standing beneath the carved arch of the arcanum, looked to his allies. "They know we live. Now they will strike harder. But we stand together."
He raised the purified Echo Shard, now sheathed in a crystal radiance.
> "Let them come. The storm is not yet spent."
And so, as survivors emerged from the Bloodfields, Valdrake Academy held its breath. The midterm exam had changed everything. The Dragon Emperor had returned—stripped of mortal guile, armed with ancient truth—and nothing would ever be the same again.