Kael stared at the translucent core nestled within the half-forged Frostvein cauldron. The fist-sized orb defied analysis—smooth as polished glass yet devoid of magical resonance. "A geological anomaly?" he muttered, pocketing the mystery before gathering his gear.
Dawn found him at the academy gates, travel rations in hand. His eyebrow arched at the assembled party: Amelia stood rigidly beside Finn's grinning form, while Vesper the lecherous mage and Toms the ex-fugitive leaned against a baggage cart.
"You..." Kael began.
"Surprise!" Finn spread his arms theatrically. "They insisted on joining our 'artistic pilgrimage'!"
Vesper adjusted his flamboyant hat. "Academic pursuits demand diverse perspectives, dear boy! A sculptor of enchantments requires... inspiration." His wink implied taverns rather than libraries.
Toms polished a lockpick. "Simon revoked my bounty. Figured I'd celebrate freedom by 'liberating' forgotten treasures."
Amelia's glacial composure cracked with a barely audible sigh. "They threatened to follow regardless. Better contained than loose."
Kael massaged his temples. The Frostvein core pulsed faintly in his pack—or was that the Dusk Shard's mocking laughter?
The caravan rolled out, oblivious to shadows coalescing in their wake.
The luxury liner's upper deck offered panoramic views of sapphire waves and sunlit horizons—a vista utterly wasted on Vesper and Finn. The duo leaned over the railing, eyes locked on the pool deck below where vacationing nobles lounged.
"Observe the auburn-haired vision in the cerulean sarong," Vesper murmured, stroking his goatee. "A nymph descended from the Celestial Spheres themselves!"
Finn squinted. "The one adjusting her... sunshield? By the Flame Tyrant's beard, those legs could end wars!"
"Philistine!" Vesper clapped the younger man's shoulder. "Note the arch of her brow—a masterstroke from the Divine Artist's brush!"
Kael observed their antics from a lounge chair, torn between amusement and secondhand shame. Amelia sharpened her blade nearby, the rhythmic shink of whetstone on steel punctuating their lecherous commentary.
"Regretting the company yet?" she asked without looking up.
"Contemplating mutiny," Kael replied, watching Finn mime an artist's pose while Vesper sketched imaginary curves in the air. "Though they're harmless. Mostly."
The Dusk Shard pulsed against his chest, its attention fixed westward where the Obsidian Wastes' volcanic peaks breached the horizon. The Frostvein core in his pack remained inert, though its impenetrable heart seemed to absorb the Shard's whispers like a sponge.
As sunset painted the sea crimson, Vesper stumbled over, rum-soaked breath preceding him. "Lads! The dining hall hosts a Flamenco troupe! Living statues of feminine—"
A thrown whetstone embedded itself in the mast beside his head. Amelia rose, blade glinting. "Next word, old man, and you'll provide chum for the sharks."
The lecherous camaraderie between Vesper and Finn reached new heights as the former suddenly straightened, his rheumy eyes glinting with uncharacteristic focus. "Enough prattle, lad! Time you learned true artistry in motion."
Finn snorted. "Evasion techniques? From you?"
"Watch closely, skeptics!" Vesper barked, suddenly addressing the entire group. His ragged cloak billowed as he shifted stance, worn boots etching faint constellations into the deck planks.
A heartbeat later, stardust afterimages trailed his trajectory—twelve meters crossed before the first spark faded. The display left frost patterns crystallizing in his wake, their geometry mirroring celestial charts.
Amelia's whetstone stilled mid-stroke. "Astral patterning..."
Kael's eyes narrowed. This wasn't mere footwork—the residual mana signature suggested seventh-tier spatial manipulation disguised as physical movement. The lecherous old coot had just demonstrated combat-grade teleportation accessible to mid-tier mages.
Vesper reappeared leaning against the mast, casually picking his teeth. "The Stellar Shuffle. My... ah... companion during certain nocturnal escapades required discreet exit strategies."
Finn's mockery died as calculation replaced mirth. "Teach me. Now."
The old mage's grin turned predatory. "First lesson: True artistry begins with observation." His gaze slid toward a passing noblewoman's entourage. "Note the serving girl's hip sway—rhythm vital for transitional—"
Amelia's dagger thunked into the mast between his legs. "Focus. Or lose the tools of your 'art.'"
As Vesper launched into a defensive lecture on "aesthetic thermodynamics," Kael studied the fading stardust patterns. The Frostvein core in his pack vibrated faintly in resonance—another puzzle piece clicking into place.