The journey resumed under skies blanketed in drifting clouds, the sunlight pale and diluted as if filtered through some invisible veil. Alaric rode in silence, seated beside Clem on the back bench of the caravan. Her laughter with Darian and Elara came in waves, but his mind was elsewhere, fixed on the memory of Windy and on the message that had appeared with bone-deep finality.
"Classified observer confirmed."
It hadn't faded from his mind since they left Elgoriya. Neither had the odd warmth of the broken amber stone in his pocket. It had cracked open the night before the battle, and yet... it pulsed still. Faintly. Alive.
The path toward the Royal Guardian Academy climbed into the highlands, and after another full day's travel, the trees gave way to rolling green meadows and jagged cliffs. Then, suddenly, there it was.
The Royal Guardian Academy.
Nestled in a crescent valley, it rose like a city of marble and steel. Towers spiraled into the clouds, bridges of woven light connected distant wings of the institution, and training fields pulsed with energy barriers and elemental wards. The main gate, shaped like a massive lion's maw, bore the academy's crest—two swords crossed beneath a blazing sun.
Darian whistled low. "And I thought Elgoriya was impressive."
Clem's eyes sparkled. "This is the place where legends are made."
Master Kael dismounted first. "You'll find it's also where many dreams die."
They passed through the gate, and everything changed.
The air shimmered with enchantment. Dozens of recruits trained in the open yards—flames bursting from their palms, spears twirling mid-air, and stones dancing at their feet. Mentors shouted commands. Elemental beasts prowled in cages. A floating scoreboard displayed rankings in bright glyphs: Trial Combatants—Tier II Assessment in Progress.
A lean woman with blue-violet hair approached. Her uniform bore silver pauldrons and the insignia of an instructor. Her eyes flicked across the group, lingering on Alaric.
"Kael," she said crisply. "I see you've brought the ones from Quinton."
He gave a respectful nod. "Instructor Myra. They are to report directly to Guardian Initiation Council tomorrow. Until then, quarters?"
She motioned to a nearby squire. "Kren, escort them to dormitories in the East Wing. Prepare them. Council expects a demonstration."
As they followed Kren, Clem leaned in toward Alaric. "She looked at you... like she already knew who you were."
"She did," Alaric muttered. "Just like Windy."
"You really think she was real?"
"She was more real than anyone I've ever met."
As dusk settled over the academy, the group was ushered into sleek dormitories carved into the mountainside. Each room was spartan but comfortable—bed, training armor, a book of academy laws, and a silver pin shaped like a lion's fang: the mark of a first-year initiate.
Alaric sat on his bed, his eyes flicking toward the faint glow from the crack in the amber stone. A new message blinked softly at the edge of his vision.
"Player data syncing with Guardian Codex..." "Codex scan incomplete. Inconsistencies detected." "Classification: UNIDENTIFIED AWAKENED."
His fingers curled tight around the stone.
Someone knocked.
He stood slowly and opened the door.
It was Master Kael. Alone.
"Walk with me," he said without preamble.
They strolled beneath the moonlight, down a colonnade that overlooked the elemental proving grounds. Kael's gaze was unreadable.
"You've encountered someone," he said finally. "Someone that wasn't a beast. Or a guardian."
Alaric's throat tightened. "Yes."
"Wind speaks in riddles when she walks the mortal plane, She is the god of wind and prophecy," Kael murmured. "And yet she always appears before pivotal turns in fate."
Alaric froze. "You know her?"
Kael turned to him fully now. "I know of her. I did not expect her to find you. Nor for you to survive an epic-tier encounter without losing control."
"Did I lose control?" Alaric asked.
Kael's stare sharpened. "No. But someone else took control. Something within you that isn't part of the light... or the shadow."
Alaric looked away. "What am I?"
"You are unfinished," Kael said simply. "And that makes you... dangerous. To them. To us. Maybe even to yourself."
Before Alaric could answer, a shout echoed from the center yard.
A blast of white fire streaked across the sky.
Then the alarms flared.
Red sigils blazed in the air. Recruits poured out of their quarters. Guardians moved in formation.
Kael's expression darkened. "That's not a drill."
Above them, one of the crystal towers shimmered—and then fractured. Pieces of mana-glass tumbled to the ground.
A shape moved within the smoke and sparks—tall, cloaked in blue flame, its face obscured. It hovered for a moment, then pointed a single finger toward Alaric.
A whisper echoed in his head.
"The veil cracks, child of the eclipse."
And the intruder vanished into mist.
Kael's blade was already drawn. "Back to the dormitory. Do not speak to anyone. Not even your companions. Go."
Alaric turned and ran—his heart hammering, the voice still ringing in his mind.
The veil wasn't lifting.
It was breaking.