I Killed The Main Characters

Chapter 172: Build Up [5]

? Ariana's POV ?

I stood in the middle of the chaos.

Staring at the inferno that had consumed the east wing of Silvercrest Hall.

Noah Ashbourne's dormitory room was unrecognizable now.

Swallowed entirely by flames that licked hungrily at the stone walls and sent plumes of thick smoke spiraling into the night sky.

Embers scattered like fireflies.

Rhe distant cries of guards and knights cutting through the pandemonium.

As they shouted for students to move to safer ground.

Yet, I couldn't move.

My feet were rooted to the earth as I stared at the devastation.

My mind drifting back to everything I thought I knew about Noah Ashbourne.

Noah Ashbourne.

The name itself carried an air of disdain wherever it was mentioned.

He was the Academy's top student in the second year.

A title that should have inspired respect, even admiration.

Instead, it was laced with bitterness and loathing.

Noah was detestable, everyone said.

His arrogance was unmatched.

His pride a towering wall that kept him aloof from the rest of us.

And then there was his temper.

I'd heard stories—plenty of them—about how he'd lash out at anyone who dared cross him.

He was selfish, cruel even, wielding his intellect and power like weapons to carve out his place at the top.

No matter who got hurt in the process.

I wasn't immune to the stories.

I'd heard them all.

Some whispered in hushed tones behind his back.

Others loudly proclaimed by those who despised him.

"Noah Ashbourne is nothing but a monster," someone once said.

"The kind of person who'd burn the world down if it meant keeping his throne."

Even I believed it—or at least, I thought I did.

But now, as I stood there watching the flames consume everything, I wasn't sure what I believed anymore.

I remembered the explosion vividly.

I had been walking through the gardens below Silvercrest Hall with my friends, laughing at some trivial gossip.

The evening had been peaceful, the air crisp and cool.

And then a deafening boom echoed across the grounds.

So loud it felt like the earth itself had groaned in pain.

We all froze, our laughter silenced as we looked up toward the dormitory.

There it was—a room in the east wing, engulfed in flames.

Smoke billowed out like a black cloud, and bits of stone and wood rained down.

For a moment, none of us moved, too stunned to comprehend what we were seeing.

And then panic set in.

Screams erupted around me as students began running toward safety.

I didn't run.

Instead, I found myself rushing toward the chaos.

My feet moving before my brain could catch up.

My friends called out for me to stop, but I couldn't.

Something pulled me forward.

By the time I reached the staircase leading up to the east wing, the air was thick with smoke.

Guards were shouting orders, trying to evacuate the remaining students.

Knights were rushing past me, their armor clanking as they ran into the inferno.

I could feel the heat from the flames even from a distance, searing against my skin.

And still, I climbed.

I didn't know why I was doing it.

I didn't even know what I hoped to find.

But as I ascended the steps, my thoughts returned to Noah.

I remembered the day he had stood up for me in this very hallways.

It wasn't an act of compassion—I was sure of that.

Noah Ashbourne wasn't the kind of person who did things out of the goodness of his heart.

No, it was something else.

Self-interest, maybe.

Or perhaps he had just wanted to shut the other person up.

But I couldn't deny the truth of what had happened.

A bunch of students had been harassing me in the hallway right outside his room with cruel words that cut deeper than I cared to admit.

And then Noah appeared, his presence like a storm rolling in.

Th look in his eyes—the sheer, icy disdain—was enough to shut them up.

He hadn't said a word to me afterward.

But before heading back into his room he had said words I never thought I'd hear come out of him.

And I told myself it meant nothing.

That it was just another instance of Noah asserting his superiority.

But now, thinking back on it, I wasn't so sure.

I reached the top of the staircase, coughing as the smoke clawed at my lungs

The east wing was in ruins.

Walls had collapsed, debris littered the ground, and the flames raged on, defying the efforts of the knights who were desperately trying to contain them.

Noah's room was at the center of it all, the epicenter of the destruction.

I didn't know what I expected to feel as I stood there.

Staring at the burning wreckage.

Relief, maybe?

Satisfaction?

After all, wasn't this what everyone secretly wanted—

To see the mighty Noah Ashbourne brought low?

But I didn't feel any of those things.

Instead, I felt… empty.

No, that wasn't quite right.

There was something else—a spark, small but undeniable, flickering in the depths of my chest.

I couldn't name it, couldn't even understand it.

But it was there, and it scared me.

I should have hated Noah.

Everyone else did.

And for a long time, I thought I did too.

But now, all I could think about was the way he had looked at me that day—

Not with contempt, not with pity, but with something sharper.

Something that felt like recognition.

The flames roared louder, a beam collapsing nearby with a deafening crash.

The guards were shouting at me to move back, to leave the scene.

But I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Noah Ashbourne was missing.

And I didn't know how to feel about that.

Maybe I didn't feel anything at all or everything at the same time.

The smoke grew thicker, and the guards were pulling me back now, their voices urgent.

I let them guide me away, my legs moving mechanically as my mind raced.

Noah Ashbourne was gone, and Silvercrest Hall was in ruins.

***

That's how I remembered it—the incident back at Silvercrest Hall.

Noah's room going up in flames.

The chaos, the smoke, the heat of the fire, and the icy emptiness I felt as I stared at the devastation.

The uncertain feeling I couldn't explain.

Now, though, the memory seemed distant.

Like a story someone else had told me.

My surroundings were entirely different.

The room I found myself in was dimly lit.

The soft flicker of candles casting shifting shadows across the walls.

A small chandelier, the kind that looked cheap and out of place, hung above, its weak light barely illuminating the space.

The furniture was plain and wooden—

Chairs with creaky joints, a table that seemed older than me, and a bed that sagged in the middle.

It wasn't pristine, far from it, but there was a certain comfort to the simplicity.

Still, the air was strange.

Cold and warm at the same time.

A contradiction that seeped into my skin and made me shiver despite the coziness of the room.

There were no windows

No way to tell if it was day or night, or where I even was.

The atmosphere wasn't oppressive, but it wasn't welcoming either.

It lingered somewhere in between, an inexplicable tension that settled in my chest.

I couldn't remember how I had gotten here.

The last thing I remembered was being in the meadows near the eastern forest of the academy.

The evening air was tranquil, the sun dipping low on the horizon, casting its golden hues across the grass.

I had been immersed in spiritual enhancements, syncing with the spirits I had already contracted.

The act always felt soothing, like slipping into a warm current of magic that flowed effortlessly through me.

It was a peaceful pursuit, one that grounded me and brought clarity.

But then, the air changed.

Even with the sun still hanging low.

Its warmth brushing against my skin, a chill crept in.

It wasn't the typical coolness of an evening breeze.

This was something else entirely.

The cold cut deep, unnatural, and it seemed to carry a weight I couldn't quite describe.

Goosebumps prickled my arms as I hugged myself.

The sudden shift in temperature jarring.

I didn't stop, though.

I kept walking, my instincts pulling me further into the forest.

But the further I went, the colder it got.

By the time I reached a cluster of trees, the air was freezing, my breath visible in front of me.

Then I saw it.

The scene was grotesque, surreal.

Jagged spikes of ice jutted up from the ground.

Their surfaces glinting in the fading sunlight.

Some of the surrounding trees were splintered.

Covered in layers of frost so thick it looked like been frozen in time.

Others were shattered entirely, their shards scattered like forgotten fragments of glass.

And the bodies.

Wild animals, suspended on those icy spikes.

Their blood dripping down in crimson rivulets.

The liquid caught the light as it trickled, pooling around the base of the ice like some grotesque offering.

The metallic tang of blood hit me almost immediately, sharp and overwhelming, and I stumbled back, gagging.

I've always hated the sight of blood, always.

Even in battle or spars, when injuries were unavoidable, I tried not to look too closely.

Even my own blood made me nauseous.

But this—this was different

The smell was overpowering, seeping into the cold air and clinging to it.

It felt like it was suffocating me.

My knees weakened.

My head spinning as my stomach churned.

I couldn't look at it any longer.

The last thing I remembered was the icy spikes.

The blood trickling down, and the nausea clawing at me before the darkness took over.

And now... I was here.

Before I could piece my thoughts together, something caught my attention.

A figure in the far-right corner of the room.

I blinked, my breath hitching as I focused on the silhouette.

It wasn't moving, but its presence was undeniable, heavy, and unnerving.

The figure was dressed simply.

A white shirt, black pants, and a black cloak draped over broad shoulders.

A hood covered most of their head, leaving their face obscured in shadows.

I froze, every instinct screaming at me to stay still.

But curiosity—or maybe something else—urged me to look closer.

As if sensing my gaze, the figure turned, slowly, deliberately.

The movement sent a chill down my spine.

When his face finally came into view, I felt my heart skip a beat.

It was him.

His name echoed in my mind like a whisper.

The man whose presence carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths.

His expression was unreadable.

His eyes sharp and calculating as they settled on me.

"Awake, I see..."

He said.

His voice low and smooth.

Carrying an edge that made the cold air feel even sharper.

I couldn't respond, my voice caught in my throat.

My hands curled into fists at my sides as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

The room felt smaller now, the air heavier.

The person before me was the man who was presumed missing and/or dead.

Noah Ashbourne....