The academy did not sleep that night.
Neither did Ashen Rowan.
He stood on the observation balcony overlooking BloodBorn Academy's inner grounds, the city lights flickering beyond the wards like a distant, indifferent world. The air was cool, heavy with magic settling into new shapes.
Below him, the academy rearranged itself.
Corridors subtly realigned. Seals faded, replaced by older sigils long thought inert. Doors once locked by authority alone now responded to something deeper.
To him.
Ashen flexed his fingers.
The feeling still hadn't gone away—that low, steady awareness beneath his skin. Not power surging. Power listening.
"You're doing it again."
Ashen didn't turn.
Lyra stepped up beside him, silver eyes reflecting the sigils shifting across the grounds.
"I'm not trying to," Ashen said.
"I know," she replied. "That's how you can tell it's real."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, Ashen asked, "What does it mean—your bloodline being sworn to mine?"
Lyra leaned against the railing, expression distant.
"It means," she said slowly, "that long before academies and purges, before the supernatural world hid itself… your blood ruled."
Ashen stiffened.
"Not as kings," she added quickly. "As anchors. Your line stabilized things that couldn't be controlled—power, beings, wars."
"That's not what they showed me," Ashen said. "They showed me a tyrant."
Lyra nodded.
"Because that's what happens when an anchor is alone."
Ashen looked at her sharply.
"You're saying—"
"I'm saying," she interrupted, meeting his gaze, "that your blood was never meant to stand by itself. Ours balanced yours. Others too."
"How many others?" Ashen pressed.
Lyra hesitated again.
"Not enough," she admitted. "Not anymore."
A faint tremor rippled through the academy.
Ashen felt it instantly.
"Someone crossed the outer veil," he said.
Lyra's eyes widened.
"You can sense that already?"
Ashen frowned. "I… just know."
Footsteps approached.
The principal emerged from the shadows, looking more worn than Ashen had ever seen him.
"You shouldn't be awake," he said to Lyra.
She didn't look at him.
"You shouldn't be lying," she replied.
The principal sighed.
"You felt it too," he said to Ashen.
"Yes."
The principal's jaw tightened.
"Then we're out of time."
He gestured, and a projection flared to life in the air between them—concentric circles rippling outward from the academy.
"One breach," the principal said. "Minor. Probing. Whoever it is knows the seal is weakening."
Ashen stared at the projection.
"Because of me."
"Because you're alive," the principal corrected. "And awake."
Ashen exhaled slowly.
"What aren't you telling me?"
The principal was silent for a long moment.
Finally, he said, "The purge never wiped out your bloodline."
Ashen's head snapped up.
"They couldn't," the principal continued. "They only broke it apart. Hid fragments in other lines. Bound traits, diluted memories."
Lyra went very still.
"You used us," she said quietly.
"Yes," the principal admitted. "To make sure no single heir could rise again."
Ashen's hands curled into fists.
"And now?"
"And now," the principal said, voice heavy, "the fragments are reacting to you."
As if summoned by the words, Ashen felt it—a thread tugging at his chest. Then another. And another.
Not pulling.
Answering.
Somewhere in the academy, a student cried out in confusion as their eyes briefly flared crimson. Another collapsed to their knees, gasping as a sigil burned across their arm before fading.
Lyra grabbed the railing.
"It's starting," she whispered.
Ashen's heart pounded.
"I'm not doing this on purpose," he said.
"I know," Lyra said quickly. "But blood remembers blood."
The principal looked at Ashen with something close to fear.
"If you remain here," he said, "the academy will become a beacon."
Ashen stared out at the city.
"How many people get hurt if I leave?" he asked.
The principal didn't answer.
Lyra did.
"More if you don't."
Ashen closed his eyes.
For the first time, the weight of his existence pressed down on him—not as power, but as responsibility.
When he opened his eyes, the decision was already made.
"I won't run," Ashen said. "But I won't hide here either."
The principal frowned.
"What are you proposing?"
Ashen turned, crimson flickering faintly in his eyes.
"I learn," he said. "I find the others. I stabilize what you broke."
Lyra's breath caught.
"You'll need help," she said.
Ashen nodded.
"I know."
The academy shuddered again—stronger this time.
From beyond the wards, something answered back.
The principal looked between them, then bowed his head slightly.
"Then BloodBorn Academy is no longer your cage," he said.
Ashen felt the truth of it lock into place.
It was no longer a prison.
It was a starting point.
And far away, unseen forces adjusted their plans—because the heir was no longer asleep.