The night was still.
Inside a quiet chamber lit by a single inscription lamp, Elias sat cross-legged with the Coin of Destiny resting in his palm. Its surface gleamed faintly, catching the light with each slow breath he took.
He had refined it himself—etched runes onto its edges, carved pathways of energy with meticulous care. The coin wasn't complete. It wasn't powerful. But even in its infancy, it held a subtle weight. A pull.
"I don't expect much," he murmured. "Just show me... a direction."
He closed his eyes and pressed his thoughts into the coin. A whisper of spiritual energy passed through his fingers.
The world around him faded.
And the dream began.
Elias stood in an open field, barefoot on soil that felt soft and warm, like ash scattered over sunlit earth. The sky overhead was gray—not dark, not bright—just dull and wide, with clouds drifting slowly across it.
He blinked, then looked around.
There was no academy. No students. No lamps. No hallways. Just endless, rolling hills and the sigh of wind passing through fields of colorless grass.
He walked.
There was no goal—just movement. His feet carried him forward, aimless yet peaceful, like a leaf following the breeze.
Time passed strangely. The world didn't change much. The hills stretched on, broken only by the occasional crumbling stone or twisted root poking out of the ground.
Eventually, Elias came upon a ridge. As he crested it, something new entered his sight.
A ruin.
It was barely visible beneath the overgrowth—half-swallowed by vines and wild brush, nestled in a shallow valley. Weathered stone walls rose only waist-high in most places, and the only structure still standing was a cracked archway covered in moss.
He stepped through it.
Beneath the arch, the air felt different. He couldn't say why. It didn't feel powerful—just old. Forgotten.
In the center of the ruin stood a pedestal made of black stone, broken along the edges but intact enough to support a single object: a worn box, no larger than a book, wrapped in crumbling cloth.
Elias hesitated, then approached.
The moment his hand touched the box, the wind stopped.
Not a surge of power. Not a flash of insight.
Just… stillness.
He opened it.
Inside was a piece of parchment. Faded, cracked, but intact. Upon it, the remains of a complicated engraving—clearly unfinished—spread like the veins of a dying leaf. There were notes scribbled in margins, symbols he didn't recognize, fragments of techniques he couldn't yet understand.
But one word stood out, scrawled at the bottom.
"Legacy."
Elias stared at it for a long moment.
Then—
He awoke.
The lamp flickered.
The Coin of Destiny sat quietly in his hand, as if nothing had happened. But his brow was damp, and his chest rose and fell a little faster than before.
A dream. Nothing more.
And yet…
He rose to his feet, crossed the room, and rolled open a fresh sheet of parchment. He began sketching. Not from memory, but from instinct—lines he didn't fully understand, angles that felt right.
Somewhere, on the outskirts of the city, beneath the overgrowth and stone…
A legacy waited.
Not calling him. Not welcoming him.
Just... waiting.
* * * * * *
Elias was absent.
Days passed, and his seat in lectures remained empty. Training sessions proceeded without his sharp insights. The hallways of the academy felt different without his confident stride.
And, as was the nature of students confined within stone walls and structured routines, rumors began to swirl.
"I heard Elias challenged Elder Rahim and was expelled," one student whispered in the library's shadowed corner.
"Nonsense," another replied, glancing around. "Someone told me he uncovered a forbidden engraving and is now on the run."
A group of apprentices huddled near the sparring grounds exchanged hushed theories.
"Maybe he's on a secret mission for the academy," a younger student suggested, eyes wide with intrigue.
"Or perhaps," an older one countered, "he's eloped with a mysterious lover."
Amidst the speculation, Seraphina found herself unsettled. She sat beneath the ancient oak in the courtyard, fingers absentmindedly tracing the patterns of her newly acquired Dawnflare Crest scroll.
Seraphina's gaze drifted to the horizon. "Something doesn't feel right."
Meanwhile, Ryn observed the empty seat beside him during their theoretical engravings class. Elias's absence was palpable. After the lecture, he approached Veyran, who was engrossed in a tome.
"Veyran," Ryn began hesitantly, "do you know where Elias might be?"
Veyran closed his book slowly, meeting Ryn's eyes with his pale, frost-like gaze. "Elias walks paths few can follow. If he's gone, it's because he seeks something beyond these walls."
Ryn frowned. "But what could be so important that he'd miss days of training?"
Veyran's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "As if training matters to him at all..."
* * *
Beyond the Academy Walls
Elias moved through dense forests and overgrown trails, guided by fragmented visions from his meditation. The Coin of Destiny, though limited in power, had unveiled glimpses of a forgotten place.
His journey led him to the outskirts of the city, where civilization's hum faded into nature's chorus. He navigated through thickets, crossed shallow streams, and scaled rocky inclines.
As the sun dipped below the horizon on the third day, Elias stumbled upon a clearing. Before him lay the remnants of an ancient structure, barely discernible beneath layers of moss and ivy. Crumbling stone walls hinted at what once stood—a sanctuary or perhaps a workshop.
In the center, partially buried under fallen leaves and time, was a pedestal similar to the one from his vision.
Elias approached, heart pounding. He brushed away the debris, revealing intricate carvings and a recessed compartment. With a deep breath, he opened it.
Inside lay a weathered journal bound in cracked leather. The pages, though aged, were intact, filled with sketches of engravings, annotations, and musings.
The signature at the end caught his breath.
"A.L."
Elias's eyes narrowed. The initials were unfamiliar, yet the craftsmanship and depth of knowledge mirrored techniques he had encountered in his previous life. Techniques thought to be lost to time.
Clutching the journal, Elias realized the magnitude of his discovery. This was the legacy he'd been drawn to—a bridge to ancient knowledge.
As night enveloped the clearing, Elias sat beside the pedestal, the journal resting on his lap. Stars overhead bore silent witness to the rekindling of a forgotten flame.