All Chapters of Aetherion Academia #1: Shadows of Rebirth: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Moments later, [Rina P.O.V] Austin slammed the heavy leather scroll casing onto the center of the scarred oak war table, the impact sending a spray of dried salt and broken red wax across our maps. The structural ironwork of the ceiling groaned in sympathy with the strike, dropping a thin layer of gray stone dust over the parchment sheets. I remained buried in the deep shadows near the stone hearth, my shoulder blades pressing into the rough mortar of the chimney to draw what little heat remained in the dying embers. A suffocating tightness had taken hold of my throat, an invisible hand that seemed to squeeze tighter with every shallow breath I attempted to draw. The metallic stench of stale tallow and old grease from the extinguished lanterns coated my tongue, leaving a bitter film that made every swallow feel like chewing through dry wool. My branded wrist answered the sudden spike of noise with a violent, rhythmic throbbing, the silver ink of the geas twisting under my skin like

Moments later, [Rina P.O.V] My fingers scraped across the slick, frost-coated stone of the lower landing, the impact sending a jolt of pure ice straight up my forearm. The porcelain mask lay less than three inches from my boots, its painted white features split by a jagged, vertical fracture that continued to weep a dark, viscous stream of un-coagulated blood. The coppery reek of the fresh kill mixed with the ancient, stagnant stench of the catacombs, filling my throat with a bitter, greasy film that forced my jaw to lock hard to prevent a sudden wave of bile. Riven pulled himself up from the muck beside me, his breathing coming in heavy, rattling wheezes that echoed hollowly against the narrow stone walls. He did not speak, but his hand immediately went to the leather hilt of his shortsword, his knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white in the gloom. The absolute silence of the deep earth pressed against my eardrums like heavy, leaden weights, completely obliterating the franti

Moments later, [Rina P.O.V] The fall ended sooner than it should have. I hit packed earth instead of stone, the impact driving air from my lungs in a rush that tasted of mold and something older than mold. Seraphina landed beside me with a grunt, her shoulder slamming against my ribs, and above us the hole we had fallen through had already sealed itself into smooth ceiling. "Riven?" I called into the dark. "Here." His voice came from three feet to my left, rough and scraped thin. "Austin is breathing. Barely." I kindled violet light in my palm and the glow revealed walls covered in writing. Not carved. Burned. The letters twisted like smoke frozen mid-rise, and they moved when I looked at them directly, squirming beneath the surface of the stone like worms in wet soil. "Your family," Seraphina breathed, her fingers hovering over a line of text that pulsed silver against the dark. "This is Duskbane script." I stepped closer and the writing responded, brightening where my shadow

Moments later, [Rina P.O.V] The chapel above the catacombs smelled of lilies left too long in water. Selene knelt before the first grieving mother, her auburn hair falling across her shoulders like a curtain meant to hide the world from sorrow. Her hands, pale and perfect, cupped the woman's weathered face, and her lips moved in prayers that sounded like honey poured over broken glass. "Your son rests in the Goddess's embrace," she whispered, and her voice carried the weight of every church bell that had ever rung for the dead. "He suffers no more. His death serves a purpose greater than any life could have held." The mother wept, her tears falling onto Selene's white sleeves, leaving dark spots that vanished almost as quickly as they appeared. I watched from the ventilation grate above, my body pressed against cold metal that bit through my uniform, my breath held so shallow that my lungs burned with the effort of silence. Selene's fingers traced a pattern on the woman's for

The next day,[Rina P.O.V]The couriers moved like men who knew they were being watched.Austin tracked them from the rooftops, his boots silent on slate tiles that should have cracked under any weight but his. I followed at street level, the shard cold against my hip, its hum muted to a whisper that only I could feel against my skin.Three couriers. Hooded, gloved, moving in formation that spoke of military training beneath their civilian cloaks. They carried satchels that swung with the weight of something denser than paper, and every few blocks they paused to press their palms against seemingly random walls, leaving marks that glowed crimson for a fraction of a second before fading."Prayer slips," Austin breathed in my ear, materializing beside me with a silence that still made my heart stutter. "Blood tokens. They're marking a path.""For who?"He did not answer. His hand found mine in the dark, his fingers interlacing with a pressure that felt like an apology for what had happe