The gates of the Royal Academy loomed tall, carved from silverwood and obsidian stone, inlaid with glowing runes that pulsed faintly at dusk. Ash stood before them, seven years old, silent and small amidst the crowd of noble children — all at least two or three years older than him.
He wore the royal academy uniform: deep navy with gold-trimmed cuffs, a silver crest over the heart. But even dressed like them, Ash was unlike the others.
He had to be.
Because he was hiding something they could never understand.
And he could never let them see.
---
"...He's the Baron's son?" whispered one of the older students. "Looks like a doll."
"Why's someone that young even here? Is this a joke?"
Ash heard them, of course. But he said nothing.
He walked through the gates with a calm, measured step.
Every movement rehearsed. Every breath calculated.
This was not a place for mistakes.
---
Inside, the academy was grand beyond reason. Marble floors that shimmered like ice. Floating crystal lights. Towering halls with murals of long-dead heroes and ancient wars.
Yet to Ash, it felt cold.
Not just from the stone — but from the weight of eyes unseen.
He didn't know if it was instinct, or something deeper, but every time he turned a corner, he felt as if the walls were watching. Remembering.
He had a suspicion that this place had seen someone like him before.
Long ago.
---
That night, after the entrance ceremony and noble greetings, Ash sat alone in the dormitory's shared common room. A quiet fire crackled in the hearth. He held a small black notebook in his lap.
Not to write.
Just to hold.
He stared at the flames. Not blinking. Not thinking. Until a voice broke the silence.
"You're Ash Elric, right?"
He turned slowly.
It was a girl. Red hair tied in a side braid. Confident posture, maybe a noble. Her name badge read: Selene Virehart.
"I'm not here to make friends," Ash said softly.
"Too bad," she replied. "Because you're already interesting."
---
In the distance, far beyond the academy's glowing towers, beyond the mountains and sealed borders, lay a place untouched by light.
The Death Valley.
An ancient ruin hidden behind cursed winds and shifting sands — once a kingdom, now nothing more than broken swords and crumbling memories.
Deep beneath its shattered castle, surrounded by wards no mortal could break, lay two swords.
One of blinding light.
The other, endless shadow.
The true blades of the Incursed One.
Still sealed.
Still waiting.
And not even Ash knew when they would awaken again.
---
Back in the academy, Ash felt a strange pressure in his chest.
Like something pulling him.
Or warning him.
He didn't realize it yet, but there was someone — or something — in the Royal Academy watching him closely.
Someone who remembered the name "Incursed."
And someone who knew...
He wasn't supposed to exist.
---