The Immortal’s Vow

A History Unwritten

The hallway was gently buzzing with the low hum of talking students, soft thud of closed books, and footsteps echoing against the old tiled floor. There was something about this building, reeking with a feel of being from another era. Or, perhaps, the walls panelled in ancient wood, with dusty portraits lining every corridor of professors long forgotten, their eyes seeming so very stern, far away, and passing in silent judgment on the present.

Ivy shivered, hugging her cardigan closer as she walked beside Lyra. "Ugh, I wish we could skip this class," she muttered. Ivy was worn out, and it showed in the lacing of tiredness within her voice. Surprisingly warm October weather outside hadn't stopped the chill of autumn from seeping into the building. "I'm already tired from the first class of the day. A nap sounds perfect right about now.”

Rhett, striding ahead of them with his usual relaxed swagger, ran a hand through his dark hair. “We’re already here,” he pointed out, his tone resigned.

“Besides,” he added with a faint smirk, “you know Harrison would lose his mind if we didn’t show. You saw how excited he got when he found out we’re all in the same history class.”

Ivy rolled her eyes, but her lips curled into a smile. “Oh please, he guilt-tripped us into signing up. Remember that?”

Lyra chuckled softly. “He didn’t guilt-trip us. He used his patented, nerdy Harrison charm.”

“Those dimples,” Ivy sighed dramatically. “They get me every time.”

Soft scritching of chairs along the floor wafted from the open doorway ahead. Of course, Harrison was already seated in the front row, hunched over his notebook with a look of determination etched on his face. His brown hair hung over his eyes as he scribbled furiously, probably preparing notes even before the professor had spoken a word.

Lyra shook her head in amusement as she and the others made their way to their usual seats in the middle of the room. “He’s way too into this.”

Ivy leaned closer, her voice low and conspiratorial. “I bet he was reading a history book while we were all still asleep.”

A small smile tugged at Lyra’s lips. Harrison had always been that way—completely absorbed in another time, captivated by everything that lay beyond the walls of Evervale University. Sometimes, Lyra wondered if, given the chance, Harrison would vanish into the past without hesitation.

The students were lost in their thoughts until the sudden appearance of Professor Hargrove interrupted them. He was a tall, lean man wearing a black buttoned shirt and glasses that were forever off-balance. He had a file of papers in one of his hands and wasted no time to start his lecture.

“I think you will like the topic we shall cover today,” he went on, and with an authoritative voice, demanded everyone’s attention as he said, “It is about Ancient cultures and their know hows of myths and legends. Each of you will be assigned a specific civilization, and this research project will make up forty percent of your final grade.”

A collective groan rose from the students at the mention of such a significant portion of their grade. Lyra glanced sideways at Ivy, who had slouched lower in her seat as if hoping to disappear. Rhett, seated next to her, stifled a chuckle. Meanwhile, Harrison sat up straighter, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“The topics will be assigned randomly,” Professor Hargrove continued, “but remember, this project isn’t just about recalling facts. You’ll need to interpret the mythology, analyze its cultural significance, and maybe—just maybe—uncover hidden truths.”

Lyra caught the brief flicker of awe in Harrison’s expression. 

Typical. 

"Of course, he would take the concept of ‘hidden truths’, if such a concept exists, seriously."

With the project descriptions being distributed by the professor, a noticeable change in the atmosphere occurred within the classroom, and papers were exchanged from one student to another. When at last the sheet came before them, Harrison went for it even before his professor had placed it down. His gaze swept over the page, and a deliberating grin broke into its full glory on his face.

“Nerathia mythology,” he exclaimed, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.

Ivy leaned over to peek at the paper, her brow furrowing. “Nerathia?” she asked. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s pretty obscure,” Harrison explained, his voice a hushed mix of excitement and reverence. “An ancient civilization, older than any recorded history, according to some myths. A place where gods and mortals lived together—until it was destroyed in some great catastrophe. Only fragments of its stories survive, hidden in rare texts.”

Ivy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sounds like a lot of work. Tons of old books to dig through.”

Harrison nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. I’m going to have to track down some rare scrolls for this one. It’s perfect.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her tone. “And this is your cup of tea because…?”

“It’s like solving a puzzle,” Harrison replied, his excitement growing. “There are these myths about an ancient war, gods who tried to destroy everything, and one of them—a god named Zarekth—was unjustly banished and trapped in some kind of abyss, forgotten by the world.”

Rhett, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, looked unimpressed. “Sounds pretty dramatic.”

“It is,” Harrison agreed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “But that’s what makes it so interesting. Nerathia was like a bridge between our world and something greater. Something we’ve forgotten. If we can uncover more about it, we might find something that changes how we understand ancient history.”

Ivy smirked, nudging him playfully. “You’re such a nerd.”

“And that nerdy enthusiasm is exactly what’s going to get us through this project,” Harrison countered, flashing one of his signature dimpled smiles.

Ivy blushed slightly but quickly hid it by looking away, while Lyra suppressed a knowing grin. Some things never changed.

The sound of the bell marking the end of the lesson was heard, which prompted the group to collect their belongings and step outside the classroom. Harrison continued talking about Nerathia, his voice brimming with excitement as they headed toward the cafeteria for lunch. He rambled on about the history department’s collection of rare books, convinced that they held clues to the forgotten civilization.

Ivy nodded along politely, her focus more on the food ahead than on Harrison’s mythological theories. Rhett, already detached from the conversation, scrolled through his phone, clearly uninterested.

They sat at their usual table, trays of cafeteria food before them. Lyra barely touched her salad, more interested in Harrison’s animated discussion than in her bland meal.

“You guys have no idea how important this could be,” Harrison continued, his eyes bright. “If we discover something new about Nerathia, it could completely change how we view ancient history. It could even reshape how we understand mythology!”

Rhett raised an eyebrow, tossing a french fry into his mouth. “Right. Because forgotten lore is exactly why I enrolled in college.”

Lyra laughed at Rhett’s sarcasm. “Well, you did choose to take the class.”

“Yeah,” Rhett admitted with a shrug, “but only because Harrison promised extra credit. I’m starting to regret that decision.”

Harrison, undeterred, waved off the teasing. “Just wait. You’ll see. This is going to be worth it.”

Despite her initial skepticism, Lyra couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward the project. Something about the mention of Nerathia stirred a deep, inexplicable feeling within her. 

There was a dull tingling sensation on her skin as though an invisible force was pulling her into the abandoned realm. She dismissed the sensation as mere fatigue; however, the discomfort persisted. It was, however, a different bond that Nerathia sparked and one that she was unable to shake off, a feeling that remained at the back of her head.