The crash still echoed in Soya’s ears as he slowly pushed himself up from the rubble. His head throbbed, his arms scraped and bruised from where he’d landed. Dust and debris clung to his robes, and the faint taste of copper on his tongue confirmed a split lip. His heart was pounding, the adrenaline masking the full extent of the pain for now.
He tried to catch his breath, his wide eyes darting around. The dim, flickering glow of a torch on the far wall revealed crumbling stonework, faded tapestries, and a thick layer of undisturbed dust blanketing the floor. Wherever he had landed, it was far from the more maintained parts of the school.
“Davonte? Draven?” His voice barely rose above a whisper, fear threatening to crack his composure. The words seemed to vanish into the oppressive silence that surrounded him.
No answer. Only his ragged breathing and the occasional drip of water from some unseen source.
Soya staggered to his feet, leaning against the crumbling wall for support. He tried to focus, to steady himself, but his thoughts raced: the basilisk, the others, how he’d been separated. He felt panic clawing at the edges of his mind, but he forced it down, gripping his wand tightly. Panicking wouldn’t help. He needed to think.
“This... this must be part of the lower levels,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “An older section of the school. Maybe... maybe it’s been abandoned.”
The air was heavy, damp, and carried the scent of mildew and age. Long-forgotten. His mind flicked to stories he’d heard about the castle’s endless corridors and hidden chambers. He’d always thought they were just exaggerated tales to scare first-years. Now, standing here, it felt all too real.
He lifted his wand, the comforting weight grounding him. “Lumos,” he whispered, the tip glowing faintly. The weak light illuminated only a few feet ahead of him, revealing more stone walls and scattered debris.
One step at a time, he thought. He couldn’t afford to stay still, not with the basilisk somewhere behind him—or worse, following him.
The corridor ahead seemed to stretch endlessly, the faint glow of his wand casting long shadows that danced and flickered with every movement. He tried to stay quiet, his footsteps soft against the dusty stone, but every sound felt magnified, echoing ominously. The occasional skittering of unseen creatures sent shivers down his spine.
As he walked, he passed faded murals and ancient carvings etched into the walls. They depicted scenes of wizards battling monstrous creatures, their faces weathered and indistinct with time. One carving caught his eye—a figure wielding a wand against a serpent so massive its coils filled the frame. His chest tightened as he traced the lines with his eyes. A basilisk.
His grip on his wand tightened. “Great. Just what I needed,” he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to keep moving.
The corridor branched ahead, splitting into three paths. Soya stopped, his heart sinking. He had no idea which way to go. No signs, no markers—just darkness stretching in every direction.
Stay calm, he told himself. Think. Which way would lead back to the others?
He crouched down, examining the floor. The dust was undisturbed in two of the paths, thick and settled as if no one had walked there in years. The third path, however, showed faint markings, as though something—or someone—had recently passed through. Drag marks, long and uneven.
“Not exactly reassuring,” he whispered. But it was the only lead he had.
With a deep breath, he stepped into the third corridor, his wand held aloft. The air grew colder as he ventured deeper, his breath forming faint clouds in front of him. He tried to ignore the gnawing unease, focusing instead on keeping his footsteps steady and his breathing even.
The faint sound of whispers reached his ears, just on the edge of hearing. He froze, straining to listen. It wasn’t like the chaotic, incomprehensible whispers from before—this was softer, almost rhythmic. Words he couldn’t make out but felt compelled to follow.
“Hello?” he called, his voice hesitant.
The whispers stopped. The silence that followed was deafening.
A chill ran down his spine, but he pressed on, his wand trembling slightly in his hand. The corridor opened into a larger chamber, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into darkness. The space felt wrong, the air charged with an unplaceable tension.
In the center of the chamber lay a shattered statue, its pieces scattered across the floor. It was once a serpent, its body coiled protectively around a pedestal that now stood empty. Soya stepped closer, his light casting jagged shadows across the broken stone.
Something had been here. Something powerful. And now it was gone.
His heart raced as he crouched by the pedestal, his eyes scanning for any clue. The markings etched into the stone seemed similar to the rune by the lake—complex, ancient, and humming faintly with residual magic. He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing the edge of the carving.
The whispers returned, louder this time.
Soya jerked back, his wand flaring brighter as he spun around, his pulse pounding in his ears. The sound wasn’t coming from one direction—it was everywhere, surrounding him, closing in.
He took a step back, his eyes darting around the chamber. “No, no, no,” he whispered, panic rising again.
And then, from the shadows, a faint glow appeared. Two piercing yellow eyes, unblinking and fixed directly on him.
The moment those glowing yellow eyes fixed on him, Soya’s body moved before his mind could catch up. He bolted, his feet pounding against the cold stone floor as the basilisk surged into motion behind him, its massive body scraping and crashing through the chamber with terrifying force.
The hiss that followed was deafening, like steam escaping from a giant, pressurized vessel. Soya didn’t dare look back—he could hear the creature’s immense bulk slithering after him, the sound echoing like rolling thunder in the forgotten corridors.
“Why is it always me?” he muttered through ragged breaths, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
He darted into a narrow passage, the air thick and damp, and nearly tripped on the uneven stones beneath his feet. The basilisk’s pursuit was relentless, the monstrous serpent’s head smashing through an archway he had barely squeezed through. Rubble exploded behind him, and he stumbled forward, the vibrations shaking the ground as if the entire corridor would collapse.
The passageway twisted sharply, forcing Soya to make split-second decisions. Left, right, straight—each choice felt like a gamble, each turn leading him deeper into the labyrinth of forgotten corridors. His heart hammered in his chest as he sprinted blindly, the light from his wand flickering wildly with his erratic movements.
The basilisk was faster than he’d anticipated, its body coiling and uncoiling with frightening agility despite its size. It roared—an unnatural, guttural sound that reverberated through the air and made Soya’s knees almost buckle. He threw himself forward just as the creature’s massive tail lashed out, shattering a section of wall where he’d been moments before.
“Not good, not good, not good!” he panted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction.
He rounded another corner and found himself in a wider corridor, the ceiling vaulted high above and supported by crumbling pillars. He risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. The basilisk was closing in, its scales glinting faintly in the dim light of his wand, its eyes glowing like twin beacons of death.
Soya’s lungs burned as he pushed himself harder, weaving between the pillars in a desperate attempt to slow the creature down. The basilisk followed with horrifying ease, its massive body smashing through the ancient supports as if they were twigs. Dust and debris filled the air, choking him as he sprinted forward.
A jagged stone jutted out from the floor, and Soya’s foot caught on it. He tumbled forward, his wand skittering out of his hand as he hit the ground hard. Pain flared in his knees and elbows, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He scrambled to his feet, snatching up his wand just as the basilisk’s shadow loomed over him.
“Think, Soya, think!” he hissed to himself, his mind racing as he backed away. He pointed his wand at the creature, the tip trembling. “Uh—Lumos Maxima!”
A bright flare of light burst forth, illuminating the corridor in a blinding flash. The basilisk recoiled, its massive head jerking back as it let out an ear-piercing screech. Soya seized the opportunity and bolted, his legs screaming in protest as he pushed himself to keep going.
He stumbled into another chamber, this one filled with what looked like ancient storage crates and broken furniture. The ceiling was lower here, and the air felt stifling, but there were more places to hide. Soya ducked behind a toppled wardrobe, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
The basilisk’s hiss echoed ominously from the corridor he’d just left. It was searching for him, its massive body scraping against the walls as it slithered into the chamber. Soya crouched low, his hand pressed over his mouth to stifle his breathing. He peeked through a crack in the wardrobe and saw the serpent’s head swiveling slowly, its glowing eyes scanning the room.
It knows I’m here, he thought, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure the basilisk could hear it.
The creature’s forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and Soya froze. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think of what to do next. The basilisk’s head turned toward his hiding spot, its eyes narrowing.
No, no, no, no—
The wardrobe exploded into splinters as the basilisk lunged, and Soya threw himself to the side just in time. He hit the ground hard, rolling to avoid the massive jaws snapping inches from his face. He scrambled to his feet, darting toward another exit as the creature roared in frustration.
The next corridor was narrower, forcing the basilisk to squeeze through, but it didn’t slow it down by much. Soya sprinted ahead, his wandlight flickering as he ran. The air grew colder, and the walls around him began to change, the stone giving way to damp, moss-covered bricks.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He could hear the basilisk’s hissing growing louder, its immense bulk shaking the ground with every movement. He turned a corner and skidded to a halt, his stomach dropping.
A dead end.
“No, no, no!” Soya spun on his heel, frantically searching for another way out. The basilisk’s hissing echoed behind him, growing louder and closer with every passing second. The narrow corridor funneled the sound, amplifying it into a deafening roar that made his ears ring.
His eyes darted around the dead-end chamber, desperate for anything that could help. Above him, the ceiling arched into darkness, crisscrossed with the remnants of rotted wooden beams. On the far wall, a faint outline of what might have been an old door was barely visible beneath layers of dirt and moss.
His pulse racing, Soya pointed his wand at the wall. “Bombarda!”
The spell hit the door-like outline with a dull thud, sending a shower of debris flying, but the wall held firm.
“Come on!” he cried, his voice breaking. He cast the spell again, and this time the bricks cracked and shifted, but the opening was still too narrow for him to fit through.
The basilisk rounded the corner, its massive head emerging into the chamber. Its glowing yellow eyes fixed on him, unblinking, and its jaws opened in a bone-chilling hiss. The sound filled the room, shaking the stones beneath his feet.
Soya stumbled backward, his back pressing against the damaged wall. He raised his wand again, his hand trembling so badly he could barely aim. “Stay back!” he shouted, though his voice was barely more than a whisper. “Stay—”
The basilisk lunged, its body coiling as it struck. Soya dropped to the ground, rolling to the side as the creature’s head slammed into the wall where he’d been standing. The impact shook the room, dislodging chunks of stone and sending them crashing to the floor.
The narrow crack in the wall widened, and cold, damp air rushed into the chamber. Soya didn’t hesitate. Scrambling to his feet, he squeezed through the opening, ignoring the sharp edges of the jagged stone that scraped against his arms and legs.
The basilisk roared behind him, furious but too large to follow through the tight gap. Soya didn’t look back. He stumbled into the next corridor, his chest heaving as he fought to keep moving.
The air here was even colder, the darkness even deeper. His wandlight flickered weakly, barely illuminating the path ahead. The walls were rough and uneven, as though this part of the castle had been carved out hastily and then abandoned.
Soya slowed to a jog, his legs trembling beneath him. His lungs burned, and every breath felt like fire in his chest. But he couldn’t stop—not yet.
The basilisk’s roar echoed from somewhere behind him, muffled but still terrifying. Soya gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going, his mind racing as he tried to figure out where he was and how to get out.
He turned another corner and found himself in a small chamber, its walls lined with ancient, rusted chains and hooks. The air here was heavy with the smell of damp stone and something else—something metallic and faintly sour.
Soya collapsed against the wall, his legs giving out beneath him. His wandlight dimmed as his grip on it faltered, but he clutched it tightly, unwilling to let go. His entire body ached, and his head spun from exhaustion and fear.
For a moment, he allowed himself to breathe, to take in his surroundings. He needed to think, to plan his next move. But before he could collect his thoughts, a faint sound reached his ears—a distant scraping, slow and deliberate.
His heart sank.
The basilisk wasn’t giving up. It was still coming for him.
He stood and began to run once more, using the walls to steady himself, until he came across a chamber.
Soya stumbled into the chamber, panting heavily and clutching his side. His wand hung loosely in his hand, nearly forgotten as he backed away from the corridor where the massive basilisk prowled. The creature's roars echoed faintly in the distance, but something held it at bay. Soya turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the room he had entered.
It was unlike anything he had seen before. The walls were covered in ancient, gilded frames, each housing a portrait that seemed almost alive. Figures within the paintings shifted and murmured, their eyes following him as he moved. A soft, golden light emanated from the room's high, domed ceiling, casting an ethereal glow over the scene. At the center of the chamber stood a large, circular table made of polished stone, inscribed with intricate runes that seemed to pulse faintly.
Soya stepped cautiously toward the nearest portrait. The painted figure—a stern-looking man with sharp features and a piercing gaze—stirred within the frame. "Ah, a student," the man said, his voice resonating with authority. "What brings you to the Hall of Founders?"
"H-Hall of Founders?" Soya stammered, his eyes darting to the door behind him. "I—I didn’t mean to… I was running, and—"
The man raised a hand, silencing him. "Calm yourself, young one. This chamber is not easily stumbled upon. You must have been brought here for a reason."
Another voice chimed in, this one soft and melodic. Soya turned to see a woman in a flowing dress, her portrait framed by twisting vines. "You look frightened, child. What pursues you?"
"A basilisk," Soya blurted, his voice shaking. "It—it followed me, but it can’t get in here. I don’t know why."
The portraits exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from concern to intrigue. A third figure, a tall man in rugged clothing with a carved staff in hand, leaned forward in his frame. "The wards on this chamber are ancient, designed to keep even the most formidable creatures at bay. You are safe here, for now."
Soya sank to his knees, relief flooding through him. He let his wand drop to the floor and buried his face in his hands. "I don’t know what to do," he admitted. "I’m just a first-year. I don’t know any spells that can stop something like that."
"Then you must learn," the stern man said sharply. "Knowledge is your greatest weapon, and this chamber holds much of it."
The woman with the vines nodded. "Indeed. Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am Marlee Bunjil, founder of Bunjil House. My specialty was in seeing the unseen, understanding the balance of the world."
"And I am Jacko Thylacea," the rugged man said with a nod. "Founder of Thylacea House, where resourcefulness and adaptability are paramount."
The stern man spoke again. "Yarramundi Gubboo, founder of Yarramundi House. My focus was on ambition and discovery."
Finally, a fourth portrait stirred, revealing a serene woman with flowing hair and a calm expression. "Tully Ningaloo," she said, her voice like a gentle wave. "Founder of Ningaloo House, where loyalty and perseverance are cherished."
Soya’s mouth fell open. He had read about the founders during his first weeks at Austramore, but meeting them—albeit in portrait form—was beyond anything he had imagined. "I… I don’t know what to say."
"You need not say much," Marlee said gently. "But you must listen. The creature that pursues you is no ordinary basilisk."
"It’s larger than the other one I saw," Soya said, his voice trembling. "And it’s stronger. I barely escaped."
Jacko leaned forward, his expression grim. "That creature has been altered—enchanted, likely by dark magic. Its runes are designed to repel most spells. A dangerous foe for any wizard, let alone a student."
"What should I do?" Soya asked desperately. "I can’t fight it, and I don’t know how to get out of here."
"You will not fight it," Tully said firmly. "You will outwit it. But first, you must understand what you are dealing with."
Yarramundi gestured to the runes on the table. "These markings may offer insight. Approach, and we shall guide you."
Soya hesitated, then stepped forward. As he placed his hands on the table, the runes began to glow brighter, their patterns shifting and rearranging. The founders’ voices blended together, each offering wisdom and encouragement as Soya tried to make sense of the symbols.
"These are runes of containment," Marlee explained. "Similar to what Eliza was studying at the lake."
"Eliza?" Soya’s heart raced. "Do you know where she is?"
The portraits fell silent for a moment before Yarramundi spoke. "We do not, but her disappearance is linked to the magic that binds this creature. If you wish to find her, you must unravel this mystery."
"But I don’t know how," Soya said, his voice cracking.
"You will," Jacko said firmly. "You have the spirit of a Thylacean—adaptable, quick-thinking, and brave, even if you don’t see it yet. Trust in yourself, and trust in us. We will help you."
As the runes continued to shift and glow, Soya felt a spark of determination ignite within him. The founders’ guidance, combined with the knowledge hidden in this chamber, was his best chance to survive—and to uncover the truth.
The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the glowing runes on the table before Soya. The founders’ portraits watched him intently, their expressions a mix of anticipation and solemnity.
"To escape this predicament and face the trials ahead, you will need more than cleverness and instinct," Yarramundi Gubboo said, his voice firm but not unkind. "You must wield power rooted in the earth itself—ancient magic, born from the very essence of this land."
Marlee Bunjil stepped forward in her frame, her eyes shimmering with a vibrant, otherworldly light. "This magic is not for the faint of heart, Soya. It is raw, untamed, and drawn directly from the balance of nature. To channel it, you must connect with the energy around you and inscribe it into existence with your intent."
"Runic magic will form the foundation," Tully Ningaloo added, her tone soothing. "But it is nature’s force that will give it life. Together, they will create something more than either could alone."
Soya’s grip on the table tightened as he absorbed their words. "What kind of magic is this? I’ve never heard of anything like it."
Jacko Thylacea chuckled softly, the warmth of his voice cutting through the tension. "Few have. It’s older than the castle itself, passed down in whispers and legends. We call it Gaian Script."
"Gaian Script?" Soya repeated, his voice tinged with awe.
"It’s a spell that channels the raw energy of the earth through runic inscriptions," Marlee explained. "With it, you can summon barriers, traps, or even bursts of force—whatever the situation demands. But its form and power depend entirely on your focus and will."
"And remember," Yarramundi said sharply, "this magic is a tool, not a crutch. Use it wisely, or it will consume you."
The founders gestured toward the glowing runes on the table, which began to shift and rearrange themselves into a new, intricate pattern. The symbols pulsed with a green-gold light, their shapes fluid yet precise. Marlee’s voice softened as she instructed Soya.
"First, clear your mind. Focus on the energy in the air, the stone beneath your feet, the life in the walls around you. Feel the connection between yourself and the world."
Soya closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. He tried to tune out the fear still clawing at his thoughts and instead focused on the sensations around him. The cool stone of the chamber, the faint hum of magic in the air, and even the distant rumble of the basilisk outside. Slowly, a strange warmth began to spread through him, as though he were tapping into something vast and ancient.
"Good," Tully said encouragingly. "Now, let that energy flow into your wand. Picture the runes as you saw them on the table and carve them into the air with your intent. They do not need to be perfect—only precise in their meaning."
Soya opened his eyes and raised his wand, the warmth in his chest intensifying. With careful, deliberate movements, he began to trace the runes in the air. Glowing green lines followed the tip of his wand, forming an intricate, circular pattern that shimmered like sunlight filtering through leaves.
"Excellent," Jacko said, nodding approvingly. "Now, channel your purpose. What do you need? Protection? Distraction? Power? The spell will respond to your intent."
Soya hesitated, his mind racing. The basilisk was still out there, hunting him. He needed something that could keep it at bay—something strong enough to give him a chance to escape. He focused his thoughts, pouring his desperation and determination into the runes.
As he completed the pattern, the glowing lines surged with light, and a wave of energy burst forth from the spell. The air around him seemed to thrum with power, and the stone floor beneath his feet shifted as thick, twisting vines erupted from the ground. The vines wove together, forming a dense, impenetrable barrier around the chamber’s entrance. Their surfaces glimmered faintly with runic symbols, reinforcing their strength.
"Impressive," Marlee said, a hint of pride in her voice. "You’ve created a warding barrier, one rooted in both nature and magic. It will hold against the basilisk—for now."
Soya lowered his wand, his chest heaving as the glow of the spell faded. He stared at the barrier, disbelief and awe warring within him. "I… I did that?"
"You did," Tully said with a gentle smile. "But this is only the beginning. Gaian Script is a living magic, shaped by your will and your growth. The more you practice, the more it will evolve."
Yarramundi stepped forward in his frame, his expression stern but approving. "You have the potential, Soya Vareen. But remember, this power is a responsibility. Use it to protect, to learn, and to uncover the truth—but never to harm without cause."
Soya nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. The founders’ voices began to fade as the runes on the table dimmed, their light retreating back into the stone. But their words lingered in his mind, a steady guide amidst the chaos.
As the chamber fell silent once more, Soya turned to face the barrier he had created. The vines stood strong, their runic symbols glowing softly in the dim light.