The night was quiet, but not peaceful. Inside the Eldrin house, Edran sat by the fireplace, turning an old silver badge in his hand. It was scratched and worn, the design nearly faded — the crest of Arcanwell Academy.
He hadn't looked at it in years.
In another corner of the village, Vorian Nightrune stood in his study, a similar badge tucked in a box. He hadn't spoken about those days in decades, not even to his own children.
There had once been a school — Arcanwell Academy — known throughout the land for teaching magic. It wasn't just a school, but a place where the brightest minds gathered to explore the mysteries of the world.
Years ago, there were three students in Arcanwell's final class who stood out. Not for their power, but for their curiosity.
During their last year, the headmaster introduced a special topic: "Secrets of the Unknown." The lesson was supposed to be simple — a study of myths and magical folklore. But something in those old texts changed the students forever.
They became obsessed.
The stories spoke of a hidden force — older than the academy, older than magic itself. Something buried or lost. Something that granted strength… or danger.
The three students stayed late after classes, studied forgotten scrolls in the back halls, whispered plans no one else heard. Teachers warned them to stop. One professor even tried to burn the books.
But it was too late.
No one knows what really happened. Some say there was a fight, others believe it was an accident. But after that day, something in the air of Arcanwell changed.
A week later, the academy shut its doors forever.
Officially, the reason was "restructuring," but the villagers whispered of something darker. People say the walls still hum at night. No one dares go near it.
Back in the present, Edran leaned forward, staring into the fire.
"Do you think she suspects anything?" he asked softly, not turning his head.
Across from him, his son nodded slowly. "She's curious. Just like... before."
Edran closed his eyes.
So much had been lost.
So much still hidden.
The badge in his hand still bore the initials — faint, but real. He traced his finger across them, heart heavy.
Somewhere else in the house, young John sat at the window, unaware of what was being remembered below.
And in the Nightrune home, Alice did the same, gazing into the night sky, wondering about the strange feeling in her chest — a feeling of something coming, something old.
Neither knew the history they were tied to.
Not yet.
And while they tried to make sense of their present, two old men remembered their past — not just as rivals, but something else.
A bond, once strong, now broken.
And in the silence, Edran remembered a third face — a smile once filled with wonder, now buried under shadows no one dared name.