Chapter 26-Serena
When I walked into Professor Bannerman’s History of Magic class, something shifted.
The room was beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Mahogany molding carved with intricate runic patterns that pulsed faintly beneath the surface.
Polished marble floors that reflected light like still water.
Towering shelves filled with ancient tomes, scrolls locked behind glass, metal cases etched with protective sigils.
It didn’t feel like a classroom.
It felt like a vault.
A place where knowledge wasn’t just stored—
It was guarded.
Watched.
Alive.
We were starting regression spells today.
Students whispered excitedly.
Volunteers.
Demonstrations.
Controlled glimpses into past lives.
Safe.
Structured.
Academic.
I didn’t think for a second I’d be chosen.
Of course I didn’t.
That would have been too easy.
“Serena Notte.”
My stomach dropped.
I stood slowly, heart pounding.
Why me?
Professor Bannerman gestured to the chair.
“Sit. Get comfortable.”
Comfortable.
Right.
Sure.
He explained the process—classification, historical use, power identification—but his words started to blur.
Because something inside me was already reacting.
Something old.
Something that recognized what was coming.
“My powers have been muted. Especially lately,” I said.
Muted.
God.
Why didn’t that scare me more?
“Ah,” he said. “The Institute does that. A lock, of sorts. To help you learn control.”
A lock.
My pulse spiked.
Before I could question it—he began.
The spell.
Wind tore through the room.
Not natural.
Not contained.
Something else had answered.
The red dragon on his shoulder stayed still.
Too still.
Like it knew.
The moment the spell snapped into place—everything went wrong.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Not absence of light.
Presence.
Thick.
Pressing.
The classroom flickered—and then—I was somewhere else.
Bound.
Cold.
And in pain.
It hit instantly.
Not imagined.
Not distant.
Real.
Ropes cut into my wrists.
My skin burned.
My body—God—it felt used.
Broken.
My scream tore out of me before I could stop it.
The smell of blood.
Rot.
Fear.
A woman hovered over me—nun’s robes, twisted face, eyes filled with something hateful and righteous and utterly wrong.
She struck.
The pain was blinding.
My mind fractured.
Two realities collided.
Asgarheim Runevald Institute.
The past.
Serena.
Someone else.
No—still Serena.
Always Serena.
Just not this Serena.
I heard Bannerman.
Distant.
Panicked.
Too late.
The nun screamed something in a language I shouldn’t know—and I answered in a language I did not know.
Fluent.
Furious.
Ancient.
The words poured out of me like I had always known them.
Like they had never left.
My body lifted.
Not just me.
The table.
The room.
Reality itself seemed to warp around me.
And then—the rage came.
Not mine.
Not entirely.
Layered.
Generations.
Lifetimes.
The Norns—the Fates.
The threads of fate weaving and tangling and snapping.
I saw it—for just a second—three figures.
Watching.
Waiting.
Weighing.
Judging.
And beneath them—another presence.
Colder.
Still.
Hel.
The realm of the dead wasn’t empty.
It was ordered.
Structured.
Waiting.
And I—I was not just seeing it.
I was touching it.
“Serena! Stop!” Bannerman shouted.
But I couldn’t.
Because I wasn’t afraid anymore.
I was angry.
They had taken me.
Hurt me.
Broken me.
And I—I was done.
I opened my mouth.
And called them.
Not begging.
Not pleading.
Commanding.
Deep purple magic exploded from me, not wild this time—directed.
Controlled.
A net.
Wide.
Precise.
It spread across realms, slipping between layers of existence, wrapping around the wandering dead, the restless, the forgotten.
I felt them.
All of them.
Thousands.
Waiting.
Hungry.
And they answered.
Not because I was loud.
Not because I was desperate.
Because I was theirs.
The realization hit too late.
I wasn’t just raising them.
I was claiming them.
An army.
The room shattered.
The past and present collapsed into each other.
And somewhere—through all of it—I felt him.
Raven.
Fury.
Fear.
Possession.
The bond snapped tight—and for the first time—I understood something terrifying.
I wasn’t the only one becoming something new.
We both were.
And whatever I had just unleashed—it wasn’t going to stay contained for long.