The Oyxia Chronicles: Shadow of Lorian

Arden Falk

The Oyxia Chronicles: Shadow of Lorian

Chapter 1. Arrival in Lorian

No one came to Lorian by accident. Those who crossed its gates either mastered fire – or were broken by it. Elissa knew this long before the carriage jolted on the mountain road and the scarlet towers of the Castle of Fire rose before her.

The carriage jolted suddenly as the wheels struck a large stone with a dull thud.

Elissa lurched forward and instinctively grabbed the edge of the seat.

“Damn it—” slipped from her lips, but she cut herself short.

A mage was sitting opposite her.

Elissa cast him a quick glance and immediately turned toward the window, biting her tongue. The court wizard looked as though the shaking, the road, and the journey itself had nothing to do with him. He sat perfectly still, back straight, fingers clasped on his knees, staring straight ahead.

I hate this journey, Elissa thought. This road. This winding path. This waiting. When will we finally reach the Castle…

The carriage creaked again as it climbed higher, and at last the view outside stole Elissa’s breath.

A scarlet sun rose above the horizon, bathing the walls of Castle Lorian in burning hues. Its towers, as if grown from frozen lava, glimmered with an inner light, as though living fire flowed within the stone. The castle stood atop a volcano—grim, majestic, terrifyingly beautiful.

A mix of awe and unease tightened Elissa’s chest.

She had always known Lorian was vast. Since childhood, she had seen it from Pyrenholm—distant, almost unreal. But now, so close, its sheer scale was overwhelming.

“We’re almost there,” the mage said quietly.

Elissa didn’t answer. She gripped the edge of her cloak, trying not to betray her anxiety.

Will I be enough? What if my magic isn’t strong enough? What if I fail their expectations…

She stole a glance at her companion. Tall and gaunt, with sharp, almost carved features. His gray hair was tied back in a short tail, and his black robe was adorned with dark crimson accents.

A high-ranking mage, Elissa thought. Father said only the strongest wear such mantles.

She had known his name for a long time.

Malker Airon.

The thought of him brought memories flooding back, sudden and vivid.

The room had been lined with black basalt slabs that held warmth even at night. Malker Airon stood in the center, motionless as a statue.

“You are a sorceress,” he had said then. “A Fire mage.”

He slowly opened his palm, and dark crimson flame flared between his fingers.

Elissa noticed, just for a moment, the thin white lines on his wrists—old burn scars.

“Power is not responsibility,” he continued. “That’s what the weak like to say. Power is a right.”

Fire reflected in his eyes, turning his pupils into tiny sparks.

“The right to reshape the world as you see fit.”

The flame condensed into a glowing sphere, lighting his face.

“And if you have the courage to claim that right… Lorian will give you everything. Everything you dare not dream of. And everything you will fear.”

He clenched his fist, extinguishing the fire. The air filled with the scent of ozone.

“The sweetest and the most dangerous thing in our craft,” he added, turning toward the window where the castle’s peaks burned.

The carriage swayed again, pulling Elissa back into the present.

Outside, the volcano loomed. Its slopes were covered in hardened lava, but here and there living streams of fire glowed red, like the pulsing blood of the land. The wind carried the smell of sulfur and heated stone.

Below, at the foot of the mountain, lay Pyrenholm. Forges glimmered in the dusk like scattered stars, and the echoes of hammer blows reached even this height. The city felt distant—like a fragment of a former life.

Ahead lay Lorian.

The carriage continued up the winding road. The heat grew more noticeable, as if the volcano itself were testing the travelers’ resolve.

That was when Elissa noticed two figures by the roadside.

One was clearly a mage—something in his stride and posture gave him away. The other looked younger, slightly hunched. His fiery red hair was unkempt, his travel cloak dusty, and his fingers stained with ink or traces of spellwork. Despite his unsteady steps, determination burned in his bright green eyes.

Just like me, Elissa thought.

“Students come to Lorian from every corner of the world,” Malker said, as if reading her thoughts. “And each must walk this path alone.”

The carriage left the travelers behind.

The gates appeared ahead.

Massive doors of dark metal, adorned with patterns of living flame, towered over the road. Arcane runes traced their surface, glowing with a warm crimson light.

The carriage slowed and came to a halt.

“We’ve arrived,” Malker said.

Elissa’s heart began to race. She had imagined this moment countless times, yet now that it was real, she felt an odd blend of exhilaration and fear.

The gates slowly parted. Waves of hot air rushed outward, tugging at her cloak.

Malker stepped out first and turned back toward her.

“Welcome to Lorian.”

Elissa took a deep breath and stepped forward.

When the gates opened fully, the castle revealed itself in all its power. Black obsidian walls shimmered with inner light, towers pierced the burning sky, and somewhere deep within the fortress ancient fire rumbled.

The heat here was stronger than in Pyrenholm. The air trembled, and the scent of sulfur stung her nose.

“You seem frozen,” Malker remarked.

Elissa exhaled slowly.

“I’m just… adjusting.”

He nodded and moved ahead.

Elissa followed, crossing the threshold.

At last, the day had come.

Chapter Two. Leonard

The fire surged too fast.

Dry straw ignited as if it had been waiting for that very moment—the flames leapt upward, greedy and crackling, devouring everything in their path. People screamed. Some ran toward the well, others froze, unsure what to do.

“Water!” someone shouted. “Put it out! Put it out!”

Leonard stood a few steps from the shed, feeling heat build in his chest. Not fear—something else. Hot, crushing, as if the fire was not only outside, but inside him as well.

He didn’t understand what he was doing.

He simply stepped forward.

His arm extended on its own, fingers tightening—and the flames faltered, as though they had struck an invisible wall. In the next instant, the fire collapsed in on itself, vanishing, leaving only smoke and the stench of char.

Silence fell.

Leonard stood motionless, a heavy sensation lingering in his hand—as if he had been holding something vast and unseen.

What did I just do…?

Someone crossed themselves. Others whispered.

His father grabbed his shoulder sharply.

“Home. Now.”

Leonard felt a wave of dizziness and, without quite realizing how, found himself back in the house.

That night, Leonard was forbidden to speak of what had happened. But rumors do not ask permission.

Tirgald was a small village, and secrets did not survive long there.

Life was simple: livestock, fields, hearth. The villagers disliked change and distrusted those who thought too much. Leonard had known this since childhood. His books, his experiments, his attempts to understand the nature of fire had always unsettled his neighbors.

“What use is learning when you have a shovel and a flock of sheep?” the village elder used to grumble.

Leonard was thin, slightly hunched—a consequence of long hours bent over books. His red hair was perpetually unkempt, as if he forgot about it entirely, and his hands were almost always marked with burns or ink stains.

He was used to being strange.

Now, he was dangerous.

Several weeks passed before a stranger arrived in Tirgald.

Tall, with a mane of gray hair, wearing a dark cloak embroidered with crimson patterns. He introduced himself as Valkerian.

Leonard sensed him before he saw him. The heat within stirred again—uneasy, alert.

On the square, the mage spoke with the village elder. Later, Valkerian sat at a roughly hewn table in the elder’s house.

“Tell me about the boy,” he said calmly. “The one who commands fire.”

The elder hesitated.

“We don’t like such talk. Magic… it brings trouble. Leonard is a good lad. Just… strange.”

“Power frightens those who cannot control it,” Valkerian replied. “He must learn.”

The elder sighed.

“And will that be a blessing for him? And for us?”

But the mage already knew the answer.

When Valkerian announced that Leonard was to go with him, the house filled with heavy silence.

His mother sat by the hearth, clutching an embroidered handkerchief. His father stood with arms crossed.

“You mean to take our son?” his mother asked, her voice trembling.

“His gift cannot be ignored.”

“A gift—or a curse?” his father shot back.

“Without training, it will become a curse,” the mage said. “You saw the fire. Next time, it may not go out.”

“I’m not a child,” Leonard said, surprised by the steadiness of his own voice. “I need to know who I am.”

His father studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded.

“Go. But remember where you come from.”

His mother embraced him—tight, desperate.

His sister came last. In her hands she held an old wooden figurine of a rider.

“Take it,” she said quietly. “So you won’t forget us.”

Leonard slipped the figurine into his bag.

“I’ll remember.”

She turned away quickly, so he wouldn’t see her tears.

The next morning, Leonard left Tirgald.

His mother wept. His father stood motionless.

Leonard did not look back.

He knew there was no road back anymore.

Chapter Three. Elissa’s First Trial

“Are you Elissa Firell?”

The voice came without warning—dry, sharp, intolerant of delay.

Elissa flinched and looked up.

A mage stood before the gates of Lorian, clad in a dark robe threaded with crimson veins, as if the fabric itself had absorbed fire. His face was hidden beneath a hood, yet she felt his gaze—heavy, appraising.

“The Council has spoken of you,” he continued. “Show that you are worthy to enter.”

Something tightened in her chest. Not fear—more like the emptiness before a leap.

Elissa stepped forward.

The mage raised his hand.

A sphere of fire flared to life between his fingers—bright, dense, unnaturally alive. He cast it aside, and the flame froze in midair, shimmering like a captured heart of the volcano.

“Extinguish it.”

No gesture. No guidance. Only an order.

Heat struck her face at once. The air trembled, her palms grew slick with sweat. Elissa heard her own breathing—uneven, too loud.

Put out the fire.

She had done this before. At home. Alone. When no one was watching.

Now they were watching.

She extended her hand, trying to recall the sensation—not resistance, but compression, as if the flame should not be pushed away, but drawn inward.

The fire wavered.

For a heartbeat, she thought she had succeeded.

Then something slipped.

The flame flared brighter—and exploded, bursting into a thousand sparks. A wave of heat slammed into her, and Elissa staggered back, shielding her face. Her ears rang.

Silence fell abruptly.

She lowered her hand. Her heart hammered as if trying to tear its way out of her chest.

The mage watched her in silence.

Then he gave a slight nod.

“Interesting,” he said at last. “But insufficient.”

His words were even. Without anger. Without praise.

That made it worse.

He turned away, signaling the end of the exchange.

Elissa stood there, her face burning—not from heat, but from shame. Only then did she realize there were others nearby. Students. Mages. Those who had witnessed her mistake.

The stone beneath her feet was warm—obsidian held heat like the skin of a furnace. Thin cracks ran between the slabs, breathing out the volcano’s warmth. Lorian was alive. Watching.

“Don’t stand there like a statue.”

The voice came from beside her—calm, assured.

Elissa turned.

A woman approached, dressed in a scarlet robe embroidered with gold. She moved lightly, almost soundlessly, with no haste or doubt in her stride. Amber eyes swept over Elissa—quick, sharp.

“You’re Elissa Firell?” she asked.

Elissa nodded.

“I’m Ella Wiltsir. Your mentor.”

The words were spoken plainly, as a statement of fact.

Elissa blinked, not immediately trusting what she’d heard.

“I… failed,” she breathed.

Ella glanced toward the spot where the fire had hovered moments before, then back at Elissa.

“You didn’t fail,” she said. “You lost control. Those are different things.”

She stepped closer. Elissa noticed an old burn scar on her wrist—pale, uneven, the mark of pain long endured.

“Fire doesn’t tolerate hesitation,” Ella continued. “But it respects those who remain standing after a mistake.”

Elissa exhaled slowly. Her heart still raced, but its rhythm was steadier now.

“What should I do?” she asked.

Ella tilted her head slightly.

“For now—follow me. A room. Food. Sleep. Tomorrow you’ll face the flame again.”

She paused briefly.

“And next time, it will listen.”

She turned and walked away without looking back.

Elissa lingered for a moment—casting one last glance at Lorian’s gates, at the burning sky above the towers, at the warm stone beneath her feet.

Then she stepped after her mentor.

The trial had only just begun.

Chapter Four. The Great Hall of Lorian

As Elissa stepped inside, she was immediately wrapped in a sense of living warmth – not scorching, but enveloping, like the breath of ancient flame.

The hall was enormous, its sheer size overwhelming the imagination. A high, domed ceiling was supported by massive columns carved with scenes from the history of the Castle of Fire: battles between mages, the taming of dragons, the creation of the first great spells. Every pattern, every symbol was more than decoration – it was a fragment of magical heritage.

At the very center of the ceiling hung a magical chandelier – the flaming heart of the hall. It was no ordinary source of light, but living magic bound into dancing tongues of fire. By day, it shone with a soft golden glow, like sunlight breaking through clouds; by night, its light deepened to a rich crimson, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

The walls themselves were adorned with ancient runes carved into black stone. Most of the time they were barely visible, but the moment someone spoke an incantation or began a ritual, the runes flared bright red, sending thin lines of fire racing through the hall, weaving into intricate patterns.

The floor was smooth volcanic glass, like cooled lava that still held a trace of heat. Thin golden veins ran across its surface, forming mysterious symbols that faded and reappeared as if breathing with the hall.

At the far end of the hall, upon a raised dais, stood a throne – the symbol of the Castle of Fire’s authority. Massive and imposing, it was forged from melted metal and obsidian, black as night, laced with veins of glowing copper. Even from a distance, Elissa could feel the warmth radiating from it, as though true flame was sealed within.

Behind the throne towered a gigantic ring of fire – the sigil of Lorian. It burned endlessly, never dimming, its flames shifting through every shade of fire: from sun-gold to deep carmine. In it, the essence of the castle was reflected – greatness, passion, destruction, and creation.

When Elissa took a few steps forward, her own reflection flashed in the glassy surface at her feet, while above her the light of the magical fire trembled. She felt very small in this place of history, power, and secret knowledge.

The crowd of students slowly spread out across the hall, but Elissa still lingered at the edge, as if hoping to blend into the stone wall. The fiery runes pulsed softly, bathing her face in warm light. She studied the hall carefully, trying not to look too lost.

“Are you new?” a voice asked suddenly beside her.

Elissa flinched and turned. In front of her stood a tall young man with chestnut hair threaded with golden reflections from the torches, as if flame itself had tangled there. He smiled openly and kindly, his amber eyes alight with curiosity.

“My name is Kaylen. Welcome to Lorian.” He held out a hand, waiting for her response.

Elissa hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. Warmth. He radiated a cozy, soothing heat – like a hearth on a winter night.

“Thank you. I’m Elissa.”

“Elissa,” he repeated, tilting his head slightly, as though tasting the name. “Nice name. Have you had a chance to look around yet?”

“I… haven’t really,” she admitted, feeling a tight knot of uncertainty in her chest.

“Then come on!” Kaylen waved, inviting her to follow. “I’ve been here a week already, so I know where the most interesting corners are hidden.”

Elissa took a hesitant step forward, then stopped, suddenly unsure.

“Are new students even allowed to wander around the castle freely?” she asked cautiously.

“Well…” Kaylen’s mouth curved into a sly grin. “Formally – no. But if no one sees us, then why not?”

He winked, and Elissa realized he was far from the most obedient student in Lorian.

“And by the way,” he added, fishing something out of his pocket, “have you heard about the Song of Flame?”

“The Song of… what?”

“Oh, then you definitely need to know! It’s our school of magic. There’s so much to learn there!” He opened his palm, revealing a copper amulet covered in mesmerizing patterns. “This is my latest work. It can store magical energy. Want me to show you how it works?”

Elissa hesitated. All around her were new faces, strict instructors, unfamiliar rules… But there was such lively, genuine enthusiasm in Kaylen’s voice that she suddenly wanted to forget everything for a moment and just see what he would do.

She nodded. “Sure.”

Kaylen smiled with satisfaction and raised the amulet toward the blazing runes on the wall.

The amulet flared with violet fire; tongues of flame licked the stone – and nothing happened. The castle’s magical defenses held firm.

Kaylen narrowed his eyes in displeasure, turning the amulet over in his hands.

“Hm… I was hoping for something a bit more dramatic,” he muttered, holding it up to the runes again.

The violet flame flashed once more, but as soon as it brushed the wall, it simply vanished, dissolving into the air. The castle’s wards did not so much as flicker.

“Not bad,” Elissa said thoughtfully, watching. “But you didn’t really think you could affect Lorian’s spellwork, did you?”

Kaylen smirked, slipping the amulet back into his pocket.

“Of course not. I was just testing how strong the defenses are. Besides, you don’t actually want me to show you all my tricks right away, do you?”

Elissa’s lips curved in the faintest smile. She was now certain of one thing – life with this boy around would not be dull.

“So, how about that tour?” he asked, stepping away from the wall. “I promise it gets more interesting from here.”

Elissa hesitated for just a moment, but when she met his confident gaze, she finally stepped forward.

“All right. Lead the way.”

Kaylen nodded, pleased, and headed toward the exit of the hall, guiding her deeper into the castle.

“Then let’s go!” he called, motioning for her to follow.

She lingered for a heartbeat, glancing around. The Great Hall of Lorian was magnificent, almost overwhelming in its scale. The blazing ring behind the throne cast uneven reflections of fire across the walls, and the runes in the stonework shimmered as if alive.

“Where are we going?” Elissa asked, catching up with him.

“First I’ll show you the Ritual Amphitheater. That’s where the most spectacular duels take place!” Excitement flashed in his eyes. “Anyway, it’s one of the main places for mages of Lorian. At least, that’s what the senior students told me.”

They passed through the massive doors of the Great Hall and entered a wide corridor leading toward the Ritual Amphitheater. The air here was hotter than in the hall, as though the breath of the earth seeped through the walls. The floor trembled faintly underfoot with the distant roar of flames.

When they reached the amphitheater, an impressive sight opened before Elissa. It was a vast open-air arena, surrounded by a ring of solidified lava. It seemed to flow slowly, pulsing with inner light, amplifying the magic worked there. In the center of the arena, she saw marks of scorched patterns – ritual sigils left by past duelists.

“This is where mages face their trials and train for battle,” Kaylen explained. “The fire here isn’t just scenery, it’s… alive. Feel it.”

Elissa knelt and touched the ground with her fingertips. A vibration ran up her hand, and for a moment it felt as though a spark flashed beneath her skin.

She jerked her hand back. “Wow…” she breathed.

Kaylen chuckled. “Get used to it. Lorian is full of surprises.”

He glanced at the soaring magical towers and then back at her.

“Want to see the ‘Flame of Destruction’? That’s the battle magic tower. I think you’ll like it!” he suggested.

Elissa hesitated for only a heartbeat and then nodded, feeling her heart quicken again. She was about to discover Lorian – and her path was only beginning.

She had just opened her mouth to answer when a stern voice cut in beside them:

“You two – new students?”

They turned. A tall mage was approaching, clad in dark red robes embroidered with golden runes. His sharp gaze slid over them both, lingering on Kaylen, who scratched the back of his head in guilty reflex.

“Why are you wandering the castle?” the mage continued. “The Trial of Fire is about to begin. Get back to the Great Hall, now.”

Kaylen tensed at once. “The trial… already? But we were told it would be in three days!”

“It begins now. And if you wish to remain in Lorian, you would be wise not to be late.” The mage fixed them with a piercing stare and folded his arms. “Besides, the amphitheater is no longer in use – it was closed by order of Lord Helion, the Lord of the Castle. After seven mages died during a training duel. An unacceptable loss.”

Elissa felt her throat go dry. Her fingers clenched into a fist. She had just arrived at the castle – and they were already throwing her into a trial?

Kaylen cast her a quick glance, then looked back at the mage.

“All right, we’re going!”

They broke into a run, racing back through Lorian’s corridors. The heat of the walls, the pulsing magic, the glow of lanterns – all of it blurred into a single whirl around them.

When they burst back into the Great Hall, dozens of students had already gathered. Voices murmured throughout the hall as everyone waited for the trial to begin. On the dais before Lord Helion’s throne stood several instructor-mages. One of them stepped forward, raised his hand, and his voice rolled through the hall like thunder:

“Newcomers! Welcome to the Trial of Fire. Today, you will prove whether you are worthy of becoming part of Lorian!”

Elissa felt a strange, conflicting emotion flare within her – fear… and excitement.

The trial had begun.

Chapter Five. Leonard – Arrival at the Castle of Fire

Leonard and Valkerian walked along a narrow path leading up to Lorian Castle. Below them stretched sun-scorched plains, broken only by rare patches of dry grass, and in the distance rose the massive fortress walls etched with symbols of fire. The air here felt different – thick with heat and the pulse of magic. Leonard could feel his own power responding to this place, stirring deeper than ever before. His hands trembled slightly, but he tried to remain composed. He knew this was his chance to learn control – but also that the road ahead would be far from easy. In his ears echoed his father’s words: “Don’t forget where you come from.”

Those words steadied him, if only for a moment.

A carriage thundered past them, kicking up pillars of dust. Through its window Leonard caught a glimpse of a girl with bright, fiery hair.