Chapter 1: The Beginning

The dust motes danced in the projector beam. Dr. Aris droned on about the First Unification Wars. Astra doodled a convoluted sigil in her notebook.

It was a Tuesday. Her stomach growled.

Liam elbowed her.

"Dude. Wake up."

Astra blinked. The sigil was almost complete. It looked like a broken star.

Dr. Aris cleared his throat. "…and the Battle of Thul was, as you recall, the turning point."

He clicked the slide. A grainy image of a desolate plain, littered with fallen banners.

Astra’s breath hitched.

Not a plain. A field of ash.

Her vision tunneled. The classroom walls rippled. The fluorescent lights flickered, replaced by angry, orange firelight.

The air grew thick with smoke, not chalk dust.

She tasted blood. Coppery, like old pennies.

Her own blood. Or someone else's.

A scream tore through her. Silent, internal.

She wasn't in the lecture hall. She was there.

The wind howled. It carried the stench of iron and fear.

A heavy shield, rough wood against her arm, scraped. Too real.

Her hand shot out. It slammed against the desk, hard.

Liam flinched.

Dr. Aris paused, mid-sentence. His gaze snagged on Astra.

She didn't see him. She saw the glint of a spear tip.

Coming for her.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage.

She gasped. A raw, choked sound.

Her chair scraped back. Loud. Too loud.

Every head in the room snapped toward her.

Astra was on her feet. Swaying.

Her eyes darted around the room. Not a room. A battlefield.

The faces of her classmates were blurred, monstrous. Their whispers, the hiss of arrows.

"Astra? Are you alright?" Dr. Aris asked. His voice was distant, echoing.

She couldn’t answer. Her throat was tight.

She saw the enemy. Not students. Warriors. Faces twisted with rage.

Astra stumbled backward. Her leg hit her chair. It toppled with a crash.

A wave of murmurs swept through the class.

"What's her deal?" someone whispered.

Liam stood up, his brow furrowed. "Astra, what's wrong?"

He reached for her.

She recoiled.

His hand wasn't a hand. It was a gauntlet.

She saw the scar on his cheek, not a childhood faded mark, but a fresh, angry gash.

He wasn't Liam. He was a commander. Shouting orders.

"They're flanking us!"

Astra whimpered. Her hands flew up, covering her ears.

The sounds amplified. The clash of steel. The guttural roars.

The vision was so sharp. So precise.

She knew the weight of the sword in her hand. Knew the bite of the cold air.

Knew the terror.

"Astra, sit down. You're disrupting the class." Dr. Aris's voice was firmer now.

He took a step towards her.

She saw him as a different figure. A sorcerer. His robes dark. His eyes burning.

He wasn’t trying to help. He was summoning something.

Something unspeakable.

Astra screamed. A full-throated, raw sound that ripped from her gut.

She bolted.

Towards the door. Away from the sorcerer. Away from the battle.

Her backpack swung, hitting a desk. Books tumbled.

She didn't care.

The door burst open. She was in the hallway.

The academy hallway. Clean, quiet.

But the echo of battle still hammered in her ears.

She ran. Down the polished corridor. Her shoes squeaked.

Each squeak was a thud of a war drum.

"Astra! Wait!" Liam's voice. Fading.

He was behind her. Chasing her.

Was he chasing her to help? Or to drag her back?

Back to the blood.

She didn’t know. She couldn’t think.

Her lungs burned. Every breath was a ragged gasp.

She rounded a corner. Another hallway. Identical.

This place was a maze. A trap.

She pushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her fingers trembled.

The air was still thick with ash. She could smell it.

No, that was impossible.

She slid to a halt. Leaned against the wall.

Her knees buckled. She slid to the floor.

Her head spun.

The tiles beneath her hand felt cold. Real.

But the phantom pain in her shoulder, from a blow long past, throbbed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Desperate to make it stop.

It didn't.

The faces of the fallen flashed behind her eyelids. Their empty eyes.

Their pleas.

She opened her eyes. The hallway was still there.

Empty. Silent.

Too silent.

A growl. Low. Deep.

It vibrated through the floor.

Astra scrambled backward, away from the perceived source.

Her back hit the opposite wall. Hard.

She whimpered again.

Her reflection in the polished surface of a nearby plaque showed a wild-eyed girl. Hair disheveled. Face pale.

Not her. Not really.

It was the face of a warrior. Terrified. Cornered.

She heard footsteps. Soft. Purposeful.

Coming closer.

Her heart leaped into her throat.

No, no, no.

They found her.

She pressed herself against the wall, trying to disappear.

To become part of the stone.

The footsteps grew louder.

A shadow fell over her.

She squeezed her eyes shut again. Praying.

"Astra. What the hell happened?"

Liam. His voice was gentler now.

She cracked an eye open.

He stood over her. His chest heaving. His face concerned.

Not a commander. Just Liam.

Still, she flinched when he reached for her.

"Don't touch me," she rasped.

Her voice was raw. Like she’d been screaming for hours.

Liam paused. His hand hovered in the air.

"Are you sick? Did you take something?" he asked. His eyes narrowed slightly. Suspicion.

She shook her head. Violent.

"They're coming," she whispered.

He blinked. "Who's coming?"

"The… the ones with the spears," she stammered.

Her eyes darted down the empty hall. Searching.

Liam looked around. Nothing. Just the quiet academy.

He sighed. A slow, exasperated sound.

"Astra, there are no 'ones with spears.' We're at the academy. In history class."

He tried to keep his voice calm. She heard the edge of disbelief.

The way he spoke. Like she was a child. A madwoman.

"No," she insisted. "It was real. I saw it."

"Saw what?"

"The battle. The fire. The… the blood."

Her voice broke on the last word.

He knelt down beside her. His expression softened, but the disbelief was still there. Lurking.

"You probably just drifted off. Had a bad dream."

He tried to make it sound reasonable. It wasn't.

She shook her head again, more slowly this time.

"It wasn't a dream. I was there. I was fighting."

She looked at her hands. They were trembling.

She could still feel the phantom weight of a shield. The grip of a sword.

"You're not making sense, Astra."

His voice was strained. The calm was cracking.

"I know," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. "But it felt… it felt like me."

Her eyes locked onto his.

"Liam. They killed me."

He stared at her. His mouth opened, then closed.

He didn't know what to say.

He looked around the empty hallway again. Like he expected to see actual spears.

"Look," he began, "maybe we should go to the infirmary. Get you checked out."

He reached for her arm again. More gently this time.

She pulled back.

"No. They'll find me."

"Who will find you? Astra, you're scaring me."

His voice was tight. The concern was mixing with genuine fear now.

Of her.

She knew it. She saw it in his eyes.

"The sorcerer," she breathed.

She pointed a trembling finger down the empty hall.

"He's still here."

Liam followed her gaze. Nothing.

Just the silent, pristine academy.

He stood up slowly. A little distance opened between them.

He was assessing her. Calculating.

"Astra," he said, his voice low, "there's no sorcerer. You need to calm down."

She could hear the subtle backing away in his tone. The fear.

She knew that fear. She saw it in the eyes of the terrified soldiers.

"He's coming," she repeated.

Her eyes were wide. Fixed on something only she could see.

A flicker of movement at the end of the hall.

A shadow. Too long. Too deep.

It wasn't a student.

It wasn't a trick of the light.

She knew that shadow. It had haunted her last moments.

Her breath hitched.

"He's here."