Arin stood alone behind the academy library, facing the weathered stone wall.
His heart pounded.
Moonlight spilled through the stained-glass windows above, washing the floor in fractured shades of blue and violet.
Professor Liora had given him just a name:
"The Vault of Blood and Flame."
He hadn't even known if it was real. Until now.
As his fingers brushed the cracks in the wall, his bloodline seal began to thrum faint but insistent, like it recognized something hidden within the stone. Then, a symbol appeared. Dim red light etched into the surface:
Three crescent blades circling a glowing core. Arin pressed his palm against it. The wall shuddered.
Then split open.
A dark staircase spiraled downward into silence.
Cold air. Torch-lit stone. No sound but his own breath.
Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of old magic pressing in around him.
At the bottom, the passage opened into a vast underground chamber an arena carved from stone.
Floating in the center: a burning orb, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Encircling it stood eight statues hooded figures with hands raised, as if casting a spell that had never ended.
A deep voice echoed all around:
"Only true heirs may claim what sleeps within. Bleed, or leave."
Beneath Arin's feet, a glowing rune flared to life.
He didn't hesitate. He drew a sharp breath, then sliced his palm open.
Blood dripped onto the seal.
The orb roared to life. The statues stirred.
Stone limbs cracked and twisted. Heads turned toward him. One by one, they raised weapons.
Arin swore under his breath.
"I hate puzzles."
But this wasn't a puzzle.
It was a trial.
The first statue lunged.
Arin dove aside as its blade slammed into the floor, sending shards flying.
He rolled to his feet, sweat slick on his brow, and conjured flame but the spark flickered, barely alive.
Not now. Come on!!!!
Another statue charged. His blood pulsed and suddenly, the fire surged in his hand, wild and bright.
He hurled it.
The nearest statue exploded into stone and ash.
A voice echoed through the chamber again:
"The blood remembers. Let the flame shape you."
The others moved in.
But Arin wasn't the same.
His body reacted on its own muscle and magic working as one. Spells he had never learned poured from him like instinct.
He called down lightning. He froze blades in mid-air.
He scorched shadows into dust. One by one, the statues fell.
When the last collapsed, the burning orb drifted down and split open, revealing a thick, leather-bound book sealed in flame.
He reached for it.
The fire vanished at his touch.
Carved into the cover:
Heir of the Twin Flames.