The torch flickered as Kaelian descended deeper into the ancient catacombs beneath the Academy. The shadows that danced across the stone walls whispered of forgotten secrets. He wasn't supposed to be here — not by the Academy's rules, nor by the laws of the realm. But Kaelian hadn't lived his first life obeying orders, and he wouldn't waste this second one crawling beneath authority.
He held the ancient map in one hand, the grimoire in the other. The route was correct. The glyphs carved into the walls matched the forbidden symbols in the book — sigils of blood and memory, remnants of an arcane discipline long buried under layers of royal decree and academic censorship.
At last, he stopped before a sealed stone door. No hinges. No handle. Just a glowing magical circle carved into the ground before it, faintly pulsing with crimson light.
Black magic.
Kaelian knelt and studied the pattern. "Thaumaturgy of the Void" — a school of dark magic eradicated during the Mage Purges centuries ago. The nobles said it was corrupting, unnatural, forbidden. But Kaelian saw it for what it truly was: a weapon they couldn't control.
He placed his hand at the center of the circle and whispered the incantation.
"Sanguis praeteriti, ostende viam."
Pain sliced through his palm as the circle drained a drop of his blood. The glyphs flared violently, and the stone groaned open. Darkness spilled forth like a living entity.
Inside was no dusty chamber. This was a sanctum. A shrine. Walls lined with black tomes bound in skin. An altar covered in ancient bindings. And at the center stood a mirror, draped in chains, its surface oozing with shadow.
Kaelian approached. The air was thick — not just with dust, but with intention. Magic hung here like a memory refusing to die.
"You seek truth… or power?"
The voice echoed not in his ears, but within his skull. Cold. Ancient.
Kaelian did not flinch. "Both," he answered.
The chains on the mirror rattled faintly. Behind them, something stirred. An eye — not human — blinked open from within the glass, staring into Kaelian's soul.
A surge of visions assaulted him. Cities burned. Sorcerers devoured by their own ambition. A king turned mad by whispers from the Void. He saw a forbidden history — of nobles who once used this power to conquer, and then turned on it, terrified of what it could create: those who were not born noble… rising above them.
When the visions faded, Kaelian was on his knees, sweating, heart pounding. But his eyes gleamed with something the Council would fear more than magic itself: understanding.
Dark magic was not evil.
It was dangerous — and that made it useful.
He stood, reached for one of the tomes, and slid it into his cloak. If knowledge was power, then this was the blade he would wield.
**
The following day, golden morning light washed over the Academy's towers. Students moved about in ordered lines. Professors lectured. Nothing appeared unusual. But within Kaelian, everything had shifted.
He sat at the back of Archmage Elgorn's lecture hall, pretending to take notes on the properties of mana flow. But his mind was elsewhere — replaying the incantations he'd read, memorizing the dark glyphs now etched in his memory.
From the front row, Prince Theor turned and cast Kaelian a suspicious glance. Kaelian met his gaze with cool indifference. Theor sensed something. He always did, but he was too arrogant to dig deeper. That would be his downfall.
As the lecture ended, Elgorn approached Kaelian directly.
"You were seen in the West Wing last night," he said without pleasantry.
Kaelian raised an eyebrow. "I often walk when I can't sleep."
"In a sealed hallway, closed off for two centuries?" Elgorn's voice was low. Steel behind velvet.
Kaelian gave a small, amused shrug. "I must have gotten lost."
The Archmage stared into him, gaze sharp. "There are powers in this world, Kaelian, that don't forgive curiosity. If you keep going down this path, even I won't be able to protect you."
Kaelian's response was soft, deliberate. "Then teach me. Help me understand it… before someone else weaponizes it."
A long silence followed. Then Elgorn turned and left, robe sweeping behind him.
**
That night, Kaelian met Lyssa in the Academy's abandoned herb garden. She was the only person he trusted — or at least, the only one who hadn't tried to use or betray him yet.
He handed her the black book.
"What is this?" she asked.
"Truth," he replied. "The kind they burn libraries to hide."
She flipped through the first page, her face blanching.
"This is Void Magic… Kael, this is death. It's corruption."
"It's power," he corrected. "Power that isn't chained to bloodlines. Power that frightens kings."
She looked up, troubled. "You're better than this."
"Am I?" He smiled, bitterly. "Because this kingdom will never see me as anything more than a bastard. Not unless I become something they can't ignore."
She clutched the book. "Just… don't lose yourself."
He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"I lost myself once. Before I died."
**
Two days later, the Academy announced a surprise practical exam.
Each student was to enter an illusion dome and face a creature designed to challenge their magical ability, mental resilience, and survival instinct.
Kaelian stepped into his dome without fear. He had prepared a clever hybrid spell — a mix of elemental manipulation and mind-warp. But the creature awaiting him wasn't what the exam required.
It wasn't an elemental beast or summoned chimera.
It was an Echo.
A remnant of a soul — a shade from a long-dead dark sorcerer. Forbidden. Sealed.
This wasn't part of the exam, Kaelian realized. Someone wants me dead.
The Echo lunged, wailing. Kaelian dodged, casting barriers that shattered instantly. This thing wasn't just powerful — it was hungry.
In desperation, Kaelian dropped the Academy spells.
He opened his palm, drew blood, and whispered words he shouldn't know.
"Memoria Sanguis… Dominare."
A glyph flared in his hand — dark and perfect.
The creature froze.
Then… it bowed.
Outside the dome, the watching professors gasped. The dome shattered, revealing the arena and Kaelian standing calm, triumphant. Elgorn rose to his feet, expression tight with fury and something else: fear.
Kaelian gave a polite nod. "I believe I passed."
The room was silent. Then murmurs. And then—
Chaos.
**
That night, Kaelian found a letter slipped beneath his door.
It bore no name, only a symbol: a coiled serpent around an eye.
The letter read:
"You've been seen. You've been tested. You've been chosen.
Come to the Eastern Crypt at midnight.
The true game begins."
Kaelian's hand trembled only for a moment.
Then he smiled.
He was no longer just surviving the court's game.
He was rewriting it.
**
End of Chapter 45 – Revelations of Dark Magic
____________________