NOVEL NEXT Chapter 134: Back To Academy
The roar of my bike's engine growled in familiar-power, contrasting sharply with the vast, mute expanse of the Ashen Desert fading ever farther away in my rearview mirror. The wind that had greeted us on the fringes of the Dragon Kingdom's territory was different-cool and clean; free from the oppressive weight of volcanic ashes and a thousand years of burning ambitions. It tasted of freedom, a taste that I was just coming to recognize.
Yumi sat in front of me, a small, restrained beam of innocence against the heavy leather of my jacket, while her white hair freely swirled about in the wind like silken threads. She had been through a journey of fright and salvation, and now her babblings were filled with the candid giggles of a child who had seen a dragon fly. She was the only remnant of this entire chaotic fiery world that I was taking with me, the only treasure that mattered.
My time in Pyronis had been a crucible. It tamed me into something harder, something stronger, and infinitely more dangerous. The Blessing of the Adamant Heart was a constant thrum just beneath my skin, a second heartbeat of draconic power promising a resilience I had never known. The Black Sword of Ruin was a silent, hungry weight upon my back; a reminder of the darkness I now wielded. But looking at the little girl clingy on my jacket, her cheery laugh bright and musical against the roar of the engine, I realized that the Dragon Kingdom had carved a new thing in my soul: a vulnerability that I was only beginning to become aware of.
We hit the Academy gates as the sun started its slow, gracious descent, coloring the sky in bruised purple and pale blush rose. The guards seemed to have a familiar expression of awe, along with a healthy, well-earned smattering of fear; they simply bowed and waved us through. It looked like the gossip had flown faster than my bike.
Masha met me on the other side of the dormitory door. Unobtrusive as always, her steady professionalism barely cloaked the unmistakable presence of deep relief. In a soft and silent manner, she accepted Yumi's small travel bag and then proceeded to give me just one very meaningful glance, carefully assessing what had changed in my psyche—subtle and otherwise—as expressed by my behavior and presence.
"Welcome home, Master," she said, in low and steady tones. "The world did not, in fact, end in your absence. Though not for a lack of trying on its part, I'm sure."
I smirked genuinely, tiredly, in a way entirely absent of the usual cold arrogance of my mask for which I was infamous. "Nice to be back, Masha."
Released from my arms, Yumi darted ahead in a whirlwind of brightly colored joy and uncontrolled energy, hugging Masha's legs. "Masha! We flew on a real dragon! And Ashy promised me a pastry made of actual lava!" Masha only stroked her hair, an unusual and gentle smile gracing her lips. Unofficially, that committed an understanding of something new in recognition of the brand-new but still tender treaty that had been imposed upon the world of our odd family.
Academy life was a whole new kettle of fish since the next morning. The previous calm after the gaiety of festival celebrations had been duly shattered, and now the new tension was palpable. Gone were the whispers in the Grand Hall; now they buzzed with a different kind of energy, one that would never do me any good.
"That's him...the one who pact with the Dragon Queen..."
"I heard he dismantled an entire noble house with a single, whispered threat..."
"They say he has a dragon's heart now. Literally."
My reputation was in free-fall by now. I was no longer just a powerful student, a dark horse in some petty games of the Academy. I had become a political player, a piece on an infinitely larger and much more dangerous chessboard. My journey in the Dragon Kingdom was, therefore, not much of a personal journey; it had become zeitgeist.
I found my friends—or rather, my bizarre, dysfunctional collection of allies—in our usual lecture hall. Sasha waved with much animation, her smile a soothing warmth among the rapidly curious and slightly fearful faces. Eren gave me a cheeky grin that more or less acknowledged the respect due to my return. Seraphina…she simply sized me up from her seat, serenity in violet eyes shimmered with a sort of possessive, predatory amusement that caused an ever-so-familiar shiver down my spine, one that wasn't altogether unpleasant.
Then Headmistress Evelyn had set the stage for the new war to come. She stood at the lectern with her silver braids coiled tightly like a whip; there was an unspoken commanding presence so that the low hum of chatters in the room had been silenced instantaneously.
"Settle down," her voice reverberated clear and cutting-almost an extension of her quiet, absolute power. "I have an announcement. One that will change the very fabric of this Academy, and perhaps, the very future of our world."
Dramatic pause. She was a true mistress of the stage, a queen in her own right, ever ready to palm her audience.
"For the first time in a century", she continued, her gaze
The three great academies, Ashborn, the Dragon Academy of Pyronis, and the Vampire Academy of Nocturne, have agreed to a Cultural Exchange Program," she said, sweeping over each of us in turn, her eyes lingering on me for a fraction of a second longer than on anyone else.
A chorus of shocked, disbelieving gasps erupted in the room. This was an immediate, strategic maneuver: the three academies, long being rivals whose interactions were a cold, tense dance of espionage and veiled threats, were now freely admitting each other. Terribly, beautifully, and destructively so.
"For the next three months," Evelyn continued, her voice low and serious, "we will host a delegation of students and faculty from both Pyronis and Nocturne. They will be in our classes, train with us, and introduce us to their unique cultures and magic traditions. And, in return," she said, a trace of an almost imperceptible smile on her lips, "a few selected students from our end will be chosen to study abroad with them."
The implications were incredible; an exchange barely began to cover it. It was the highest form of political chess in a relationship of alliances, of secrets, and thousands of different hidden agendas. And now we, the students of Ashborn, had turned to the key point, the pawns in the game being played by kings and queens, by forces ancient and powerful beyond our comprehension.
As the whispers filled the room, some of excitement and others steeped in anxiety, I felt a new knot of icy dread forming in my stomach. The Vampire Academy. Christina's new refuge. Lands of shadows, secrets, and powers that were as subtle as they were absolute. And now the doors to it burned open in the light of day.
Later that day, as I wended my way across the campus toward the library, with plans and contingencies swirling in my mind, a new figure, one unfamiliar, stood squarely in my path. A boy, perhaps one or two years my senior; in silent, unassuming grace did he come. An obscure sort of handsomeness characterized him, the short locks of dark hair falling casually across his forehead and stormy-sea-colored eyes. He wore the plain and unembellished robes of a scholar, and when he smiled, it was a polite, almost apologetic thing.
"Are you Ashen Crimson?" he asked, his voice a low melodic hum that stood in stark, beautiful contrast to the chaotic, ambitious energy of the Academy. "My name is Silas. I am . . . a new transfer student."
"And where from?" I asked, my own voice a low guarded thing. I hadn't heard of any new transfers.
"The Vampire Academy," he said, his smile a little less restrained. "I came a few days ahead as a part of the advance delegation. I was hoping . . . I was hoping you might be willing to show me around."
I studied him for a long, silent moment. He was a blank canvas, a mystery, a piece on the board I did not recognize; but there was something in those eyes, serene and watchful intelligence far too old for his youthful face. He was more than just a scholar. He was a player, and his presence here now was no coincidence.
"I'm busy," I said, my own voice a flat, dismissive thing as I moved to walk around him.
"Of course," he said, his voice low and agreeable. He did not block me, but his words were deceptively quiet and unassuming; they were bars of a cage. "However, I have heard . . . some rumors . . . about your unique abilities. Your affinity for shadows. And a flame that is not quite . . . from this world." He drew closer, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper just for me: "I am a student of ancient, forbidden magics as well. And I suspect we . . . we have much to learn from one another."
I froze; my heart became a panicked drum in my chest. He knew. Somehow, he knew. He wasn't just throwing ideas around. This was a statement of fact.
I looked at him then, really looked at him, and in the depths of his stormy sea-gray eyes, I saw not just a scholar, not just a player, but something entirely else. Something older, something more dangerous. Something that was . . . hungry. It was the same kind of quiet, predatory hunger I had seen in the eyes of the denizens of the Serpent's Coil: the same cold, calculating intelligence I had seen in the eyes of Lord Valerius.
The fragile, hard-won peace I had so painstakingly worked for was shattered. A new war had already begun. And it wasn't going to be fought with swords and spells, with all its grand, theatrical clashes under the sunny arena. It was going to be a war built upon whispers and secrets and a thousand different hidden agendas. A war fought with shadows. And, like it or not, I was now standing at the front.