The morning air in the Arcadium felt lighter than usual.
Darian and Caelum trained side by side on the western platform, where the sky opened wide and the floating grounds overlooked a mist-laced valley far below. The ring of steel against steel echoed between rune-inscribed pillars, and Caelum's magic flared gently to offset Darian's weightier strikes.
"Better footwork," Caelum commented, ducking a swing.
"Better balance," Darian shot back, sweeping his leg low.
They broke apart in a flash and grinned, breathless. They hadn't sparred like this in weeks.
"I missed this," Caelum said. "Just us."
"Same," Darian replied. "Feels normal."
But normal wasn't something they could have for long.
Later that day, Caelum joined Darian and his friends—Bryn and Eilo—by the courtyard fountain, plates of roasted grain and spiced meat in hand.
It didn't take long for Teyla and Rowan to notice.
They stood a short distance away under an arched walkway. Rowan tilted his head.
"Is that Caelum with the Bladeward table?"
Teyla snorted. "What's he doing with them? Especially with him." Her gaze landed squarely on Darian. "That's his brother, right? The Makaras?"
Rowan tried to smirk. "Maybe he followed Caelum here like a stray Bramble Hog."
Caelum heard it.
He stood slowly, placing his plate down, and walked over to them. His voice was calm, but his stare was cold.
"You don't talk about Darian like that."
Teyla blinked. "Caelum, it's just a joke—"
"It's not funny," he cut in. "He passed the same gate trials we did. Maybe harder. And he's done more with no mana than most of us have with spells."
Rowan shifted awkwardly. "Hey, I didn't mean anything—"
"You did," Caelum replied, "but I'm willing to forget it—if you sit with us."
Teyla raised a brow. "You're inviting us to eat with a Makaras?"
"I'm inviting you to learn who my brother is," Caelum said. "Up to you."
He turned and walked back to Darian's table.
Bryn grinned. "You've got teeth after all."
Caelum shrugged. "I just don't like wasting time on people who don't get it."
By the end of the week, the lunch table had grown louder.
Rowan joined first—cautious, but curious. He found himself surprisingly drawn to Eilo's awkward insights on elemental theory. Teyla came a few days later, invited by Bryn for a sparring session that ended in laughter and bruises.
Conversations bloomed. Training notes were shared. Even Caelum and Darian felt the tension ease.
They had become a team.
In the shadows beyond the Arcadium, the creature walked.
It was no longer a beast. It stood on two legs now, its back straight, its gait confident. Jagged bone crowned its head, and obsidian scales ran along its arms and spine. Its skin was dusky gray, smooth like stretched ash. Faint red lines pulsed beneath the surface, echoing a heartbeat long dead.
Its mouth remained a thin slit—until it spoke.
"Where… is the Bearer… of Might?"
Its voice was wind over shattered glass.
It had reached the edge of a ruined outpost when it saw them.
A woman and child, cloaked in traveling garb, rested beside a dead fire. The child was humming softly. The woman sharpened a dagger against a rock.
They looked up too late.
The creature stepped into view, red eyes glowing. It asked again, slower this time.
"Where… is… the Bearer?"
The woman stood, placing herself between the child and the monster. "I don't know what you mean," she said, voice trembling.
It stared at her for a long moment.
Then it moved.
The woman screamed—drawing a thin wall of stone between them. It shattered instantly. She hurled shards of earth with desperate incantations, but the creature shed them like dust.
She turned to run.
The child clung to her side.
They made it ten steps.
The creature's hand extended. Its fingers lengthened, split like roots—and stabbed forward. The air itself rippled as the tips pierced flesh.
There was no blood.
Only silence.
Their bodies slumped. The creature pressed its clawed hand to the child's chest.
And absorbed.
Their flesh dissolved into black liquid and smoke, drawn into the creature's body. It stood still, trembling, as bones cracked and rearranged.
Its frame broadened.
Its face grew clearer—no longer a blank slate, but something nearing human.
It took a breath.
Then turned toward the mountains.
In the throne hall of Embratha, beneath a dome of crystal and skyglass, Queen Maerion Lys sat in silence as the night winds whispered outside.
She was tall and elegant, her crimson robes cascading like a waterfall of silk. Her golden eyes shone like forged coin. She wore a circlet of starsilver and armor beneath her gown, never fully at rest.
A sudden gust slammed open the marble doors.
A figure stumbled in.
The guards tensed, but the Queen raised a hand. "Let her pass."
The figure fell to her knees before the dais.
"Velyn," the Queen said. "Speak."
Oracle Velyn Rae was young by seer standards, but her pale gray skin glowed faintly with ink-like runes that moved on their own. Her silver eyes were wide with panic, and her hair floated as if underwater.
"There is… a breach."
The Queen leaned forward.
Velyn's voice cracked. "The mana lines have twisted. The southern flow has reversed. And the forest—something is stealing mana from the very land."
"Explain," the Queen ordered.
"There have been… deaths," Velyn whispered. "Two villagers. A man before them. Their life force was taken, but it didn't return to the stream. It's gone. As if swallowed."
The Queen stood slowly.
"Velyn," she said. "Is it a rogue caster?"
"No," the oracle replied, trembling now. "It is not a caster. It is not human. It is… older."
Velyn's eyes filled with tears.
"And it is walking toward power."
The Queen's voice was a blade.
"Are you saying—"
"I believe," Velyn said, her voice small and breaking, "we are dealing with a demon."
Silence fell.
And outside, in the growing dark, the stars began to dim.