My Demon Professors Are All Gorgeous Girls
Chapter 103: Embers of the Fallen

Chapter 103: Embers of the Fallen

The courtyard at dawn was empty save for the lingering glow of emberpetals scattered across frost-lilies. A pale mist curled around the Lightning Tower’s base, and the Iceforge loomed silent in the north. The Academy seemed to hold its breath—an eerie calm before the morning’s lessons. Yet I knew that peace was fragile, for Trial Two had warned us that unity could fracture under the weight of regret. Today, we would confront that.

Valmira found me beside the Emberpetal Garden’s eastern wall. Her violet eyes were bright with concern. "They’ve begun to appear," she said softly.

"Who?" I asked.

"Echoes of past failures," she replied. "Phantom wards that never bloomed, wards that turned savage. The Fallen Embers."

I stiffened. "We need to face them?"

Valmira nodded. "They manifest when hope falters. When someone remembers only their mistakes, not their growth. We must confront them—together."

I squared my shoulders. "Gather the team."

Gathering the Circle

Within minutes, Seraphina, Yuria, Zephira, Astraea, and Valmira reconvened by the drained brazier at the plaza’s center. Yuria flicked her gauntlets anxiously; Zephira’s eyes were cold with determination; Seraphina’s grip on her staff was firm; Astraea’s sword glinted; Valmira’s Codex trembled in her hands.

"This trial forms as an echo," Seraphina explained. "A memory twisted by fear or guilt. We must face our own Fallen Embers to reclaim what was lost."

"Where do we start?" I asked.

Valmira opened the Codex. "Here," she said, flipping to a fresh page. "It lists the locations where wards once failed: the North Rift, the Old Clock Tower, the Sunken Library." She tapped the text. "Each site holds an ember that flickered and died. We must visit them, confront their echoes, and reignite the spark."

I nodded. "Then let us begin. First stop—the North Rift."

North Rift: The Maze of Lost Wards

The North Rift lay beyond the Academy’s eastern wall, a scar in the earth from the Arcane Collapse. Splintered spires of basalt rose like broken teeth, between them rivers of molten crystal that glowed with stale magic. We moved through the jagged canyons, wards woven by Seraphina flickering and sinking under the Rift’s oppressive aura.

At its heart lay the Fallen Ember of the Rift: a pool of emerald flame that had once promised safe passage through the chasm’s unstable runes. The first adventurers, driven by hope, had stepped upon its surface—and vanished. As we approached, the flame guttered, pulsed with sorrow, and coalesced into phantom shapes—silhouettes of students long gone, their faces twisted in fear.

I knelt by the pool’s edge. "I remember those students," I murmured. "Their names, their dreams—they trusted this ward."

Seraphina stepped beside me. "They never blamed the ward," she said. "They blamed themselves."

Yuria touched the ember with a fingertip. Her gauntlet sparked and a bolt arced toward the phantom, dissipating it into a scream of molten light. Zephira slashed the air; her blade cut a phantom in two, revealing its sad core: an ember shriveled and dim.

Valmira read from the Codex: "To reignite, we must offer forgiveness—for ourselves and the fallen. Acknowledgment heals the ember’s grief."

I closed my eyes. "I forgive them," I whispered. "I forgive myself for not saving them. May they find peace."

I pressed my hand to the ember’s basin. Heat flared, then settled. The emerald flame steadied, brightened. The phantoms faded. The Rift’s runes glowed once more, shifting to form a stable bridge across the chasm.

Seraphina’s staff carved a frost rune that sealed the crossing. "One ember reclaimed," she said.

Old Clock Tower: Time’s Regret

Next we scaled the Old Clock Tower, its gears frozen in time. Broken wards had once kept the tower’s magic in sync, but as the gears rusted, spells twisted—time loops trapped unwary travelers in endless minutes. We climbed floors littered with halted clocks and embers of ward magic drained to gray ash.

At the summit, the Fallen Ember: a pendulum of living ash that hung motionless. The platform’s runic inscriptions glared with impatience—warding done without foresight, rushing to fix time’s spiral.

Astraea approached first. "Time is not ours to control," she said softly. "It flows through us, not the other way around."

Yuria gripped my arm. "Then let’s set it right."

Valmira read the Codex: "To restore, we must accept the passage of time—embrace growth and loss as one."

I expounded: "I accept that moments lost cannot be recovered, but their lessons live on."

Astraea drew Eclipse’s edge along the pendulum, carving a frost scar. The ash ember trembled and rained sparks—tiny clocks that chimed before dissolving into gold dust. The pendulum swung, forging a pathway of light down the tower’s center. Time resumed its slow march; the gears turned with a groan, then whirred steadily.

Zephira flashed a grin. "Time’s regrets laid to rest."

Sunken Library: The Pages of Abandonment

Finally, we waded into the Sunken Library—an underground vault half-submerged in cold water. Torn tomes floated among frost-slick shelves. A Fallen Ember pulsed at the library’s heart: a soggy page of ward instructions, its ink blurred and lost. Its promise: knowledge held in memory, now drowned in abandonment.

We donned runic boots to walk the flooded aisles. The ember lay atop a lectern, dripping with water. I felt Valmira’s gaze—this was her burden.

Valmira knelt and lifted the page. Tears welled as she read the smeared words. "These were my guidelines," she whispered. "I left them to gather dust when doubt seized me."

Yuria struck a spark against a nearby shelf, igniting the water’s surface in glowing reflections. Seraphina traced a frost-rune that drained the water from the room, leaving a glimmering chamber.

I placed my hand on Valmira’s shoulder. "You didn’t abandon knowledge—you were refining it. We all stumble."

She inhaled, then spoke to the ember: "I forgive myself."

The soggy page glowed, drying and crisping into a pristine scroll. It rose into the air, transforming into a crystalline orb. The ember flared, radiating warmth and clarity. Knowledge reflowed, runes reordering into shining lines.

Valmira breathed easier. "One more ember reclaimed," she said.

Return to the Plaza

We emerged at the plaza, carrying three recovered embers in their crystalline wards. A small crowd had gathered—students and professors watching with awe. I placed each ember in its pedestal: Emerald Rift, Pendulum of Time, Page of Memory—all glowing with renewed purpose.

"Trials completed," I announced. "We have faced loss, regret, abandonment—and rekindled hope."

Seraphina added: "May these embers guard our paths from now on."

Yuria whooped. "And may we never forget the lessons they carry."

Valmira touched each orb. "Knowledge, time, unity—our shared burdens made into wards."

Zephira raised her blade. "And we will protect them."

Astraea extended Eclipse. "From now until the end of our days."

Epilogue: A Vow in Embers

That night, under the Halo’s ring, we held a vigil around the Emberpetal Garden. The recovered embers joined the original ward, their glow weaving new petals and wards. Students lit candles beneath each orb, offering prayers of remembrance and hope.

I stood among my professors, hand on the Covenant Circlet. "Tonight, we honor the Fallen Embers and the lessons they bear. Choice, unity, sacrifice, memory—they bind us, even when hope falters."

Valmira stepped beside me, placing her manuscript in the Codex’s next Chapter. "And we remember: every end can be a beginning."

Seraphina nodded, frost-lace glittering. "Let our choices rekindle all embers of the fallen."

Yuria sparked a bolt overhead, sending the embers dancing. "Raise your colors," she shouted. "Today, we light the night!"

Zephira and Astraea joined her, raising blade and sword in salute. The courtyard blazed with warded light—the final triumph of Trial Two.

And under the ring of dawn’s promise, we vowed to carry those embers—never to abandon them, never to let regret extinguish our spark.

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