Villainous Instructor at the Academy

Evercrest didn’t finish his sentence.

Because the moment he turned toward the bookshelf, a rune flared beneath his feet.

Not one of mine.

Not one of the Academy’s, either.

Just an echo. A pulse from something that recognized him.

He paused.

And in that instant, I saw it—not the man, not the legend, but the creature beneath the flesh. The ghost of an age so old it could only wear mortality like a borrowed cloak.

"...It’s begun," he murmured.

I didn’t ask what.

I didn’t need to.

The air in my quarters was shifting. Heavy. Metallic. Like the breath before a lightning strike.