Part Two – Terms of War
Location: Ashenwell Academy – Headmaster's Office
Time: One Hour Later
The siblings stood in silence before the obsidian desk.
Above them loomed the circular stainedglass skylight—shaped like an open eye. Watching. Ever watching.
The room pulsed faintly with a protective ward—one that bent reality, even slightly.
And at the center of it all, seated behind a desk of layered steelwood, was the man known only as Headmaster Zevrin.
His eyes were closed.
But Grim knew better—he wasn't asleep.
He was listening.
To everything.
Then, slowly, Zevrin opened his eyes. They glowed faintly with an iridescent sheen that wasn't quite magic... wasn't quite tech... but something else entirely.
"Welcome back... Solace," he said without rising.
Grim didn't flinch. The others tensed.
"How long have you been watching?" Max asked.
"Since the first spark danced around your brother's soul in his sleep."
Zevrin steepled his fingers.
"Your powerup was... difficult to miss. Even with the veils you tried to use. Nicely done. Still—amateur work."
"We weren't trying to hide," Grim said evenly.
"I know. Which is why I let you keep your room."
Tristan blinked. "Wait, he was considering evicting us?!"
The Warning
The Headmaster's smile faded.
"Listen carefully. This Academy is watched by more than nobles, armies, and politics. There are things below Oruin that wake when power stirs too loudly. Dragons. Guardians. Courts.
"If you are not ready to wield strength quietly, then I will strip you of it."
His voice never rose.
But the temperature dropped. Pressure filled the air like a vice.
Then, it passed.
"That said... I approve of your direction. Keep training. And stay alive long enough to be useful."
He waved his hand toward the door—but then paused.
"One more thing."
"Kael."
Grim looked up.
"His father owns the largest weapons forge in Oruin. Blackspire Arsenal. You've heard of it, I'm sure."
"He's not just a noble's son. He's commerce royalty. This duel... could shift more than schoolyard power."
Later – Outside the Office
The siblings filtered out, processing what they'd just heard.
Grim stopped at the foot of the stairs. Sparks appeared beside him, arms folded.
"You're planning something," she said.
"I'm setting the terms."
"What're you asking for?"
Grim's gaze was calm, but sharp.
"Weapons."
"For you?"
"For all of us."
Location: Kael's Training Hall – Later That Night
The forge prince was slamming his fists into an Ether dummy, golden energy radiating from his body in rhythmic bursts. Sweat glistened on his arms. He looked like fire wrapped in armor—arrogant, dangerous.
Grim stepped into the hall.
Kael turned. Didn't smile.
"You here to back out?"
"No," Grim said, walking closer. "I'm here to set a condition."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"You wanted this duel. You called me out in front of the whole academy. So when I win—"
Kael scoffed. "If."
Grim didn't blink.
"—you'll get your loss. And I'll get something too."
He stepped closer, voice low.
"I want weapons. From your father's forge. One for each of my siblings. And one for me."
Kael's smirk twitched—just slightly.
"You think you're worth that much?"
"No," Grim replied. "You do. Or you wouldn't be trying this hard."
Kael was silent.
Then—he nodded once.
"Fine. But when I win—"
"You won't," Grim said, turning.