༺ Ariana's POV ༻
I stood in the middle of the chaos.
Staring at the inferno that had consumed the east wing of Silvercrest Hall.
Noah Ashbourne's dormitory room was unrecognizable now.
Swallowed entirely by flames that licked hungrily at the stone walls and sent plumes of thick smoke spiraling into the night sky.
Embers scattered like fireflies.
Rhe distant cries of guards and knights cutting through the pandemonium.
As they shouted for students to move to safer ground.
Yet, I couldn't move.
My feet were rooted to the earth as I stared at the devastation.
My mind drifting back to everything I thought I knew about Noah Ashbourne.
Noah Ashbourne.
The name itself carried an air of disdain wherever it was mentioned.
He was the Academy's top student in the second year.
A title that should have inspired respect, even admiration.
Instead, it was laced with bitterness and loathing.
Noah was detestable, everyone said.
His arrogance was unmatched.
His pride a towering wall that kept him aloof from the rest of us.
And then there was his temper.
I'd heard stories—plenty of them—about how he'd lash out at anyone who dared cross him.
He was selfish, cruel even, wielding his intellect and power like weapons to carve out his place at the top.
No matter who got hurt in the process.
I wasn't immune to the stories.
I'd heard them all.
Some whispered in hushed tones behind his back.
Others loudly proclaimed by those who despised him.
"Noah Ashbourne is nothing but a monster," someone once said.
"The kind of person who'd burn the world down if it meant keeping his throne."
Even I believed it—or at least, I thought I did.
But now, as I stood there watching the flames consume everything, I wasn't sure what I believed anymore.
I remembered the explosion vividly.
I had been walking through the gardens below Silvercrest Hall with my friends, laughing at some trivial gossip.
The evening had been peaceful, the air crisp and cool.
And then a deafening boom echoed across the grounds.
So loud it felt like the earth itself had groaned in pain.
We all froze, our laughter silenced as we looked up toward the dormitory.
There it was—a room in the east wing, engulfed in flames.
Smoke billowed out like a black cloud, and bits of stone and wood rained down.
For a moment, none of us moved, too stunned to comprehend what we were seeing.
And then panic set in.
Screams erupted around me as students began running toward safety.
I didn't run.
Instead, I found myself rushing toward the chaos.
My feet moving before my brain could catch up.
My friends called out for me to stop, but I couldn't.
Something pulled me forward.
By the time I reached the staircase leading up to the east wing, the air was thick with smoke.
Guards were shouting orders, trying to evacuate the remaining students.
Knights were rushing past me, their armor clanking as they ran into the inferno.
I could feel the heat from the flames even from a distance, searing against my skin.
And still, I climbed.
I didn't know why I was doing it.
I didn't even know what I hoped to find.
But as I ascended the steps, my thoughts returned to Noah.
I remembered the day he had stood up for me in this very hallways.
It wasn't an act of compassion—I was sure of that.
Noah Ashbourne wasn't the kind of person who did things out of the goodness of his heart.
No, it was something else.
Self-interest, maybe.
Or perhaps he had just wanted to shut the other person up.
But I couldn't deny the truth of what had happened.
A bunch of students had been harassing me in the hallway right outside his room with cruel words that cut deeper than I cared to admit.
It was a peaceful pursuit, one that grounded me and brought clarity.
But then, the air changed.
Even with the sun still hanging low.
Its warmth brushing against my skin, a chill crept in.
It wasn't the typical coolness of an evening breeze.
This was something else entirely.
The cold cut deep, unnatural, and it seemed to carry a weight I couldn't quite describe.
Goosebumps prickled my arms as I hugged myself.
The sudden shift in temperature jarring.
I didn't stop, though.
I kept walking, my instincts pulling me further into the forest.
But the further I went, the colder it got.
By the time I reached a cluster of trees, the air was freezing, my breath visible in front of me.
Then I saw it.
The scene was grotesque, surreal.
Jagged spikes of ice jutted up from the ground.
Their surfaces glinting in the fading sunlight.
Some of the surrounding trees were splintered.
Covered in layers of frost so thick it looked like been frozen in time.
Others were shattered entirely, their shards scattered like forgotten fragments of glass.
And the bodies.
Wild animals, suspended on those icy spikes.
Their blood dripping down in crimson rivulets.
The liquid caught the light as it trickled, pooling around the base of the ice like some grotesque offering.
The metallic tang of blood hit me almost immediately, sharp and overwhelming, and I stumbled back, gagging.
I've always hated the sight of blood, always.
Even in battle or spars, when injuries were unavoidable, I tried not to look too closely.
Even my own blood made me nauseous.
But this—this was different
The smell was overpowering, seeping into the cold air and clinging to it.
It felt like it was suffocating me.
My knees weakened.
My head spinning as my stomach churned.
I couldn't look at it any longer.
The last thing I remembered was the icy spikes.
The blood trickling down, and the nausea clawing at me before the darkness took over.
And now... I was here.
Before I could piece my thoughts together, something caught my attention.
A figure in the far-right corner of the room.
I blinked, my breath hitching as I focused on the silhouette.
It wasn't moving, but its presence was undeniable, heavy, and unnerving.
The figure was dressed simply.
A white shirt, black pants, and a black cloak draped over broad shoulders.
A hood covered most of their head, leaving their face obscured in shadows.
I froze, every instinct screaming at me to stay still.
But curiosity—or maybe something else—urged me to look closer.
As if sensing my gaze, the figure turned, slowly, deliberately.
The movement sent a chill down my spine.
When his face finally came into view, I felt my heart skip a beat.
It was him.
His name echoed in my mind like a whisper.
The man whose presence carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths.
His expression was unreadable.
His eyes sharp and calculating as they settled on me.
"Awake, I see..."
He said.
His voice low and smooth.
Carrying an edge that made the cold air feel even sharper.
I couldn't respond, my voice caught in my throat.
My hands curled into fists at my sides as I tried to make sense of what was happening.
The room felt smaller now, the air heavier.
The person before me was the man who was presumed missing and/or dead.
Noah Ashbourne....