The Arcadium had never seen a day quite like this.
A procession of royal guards arrived before noon, silver-plated armor glinting in the sunlight, their banners bearing the sigil of the Kingdom of Embratha. At their center rode Queen Maerion herself—the same ruler who had sent the Ashveil force that responded to the demon threat. Her arrival was not just ceremony—it was a statement.
Within an hour, she was seated across from Darian and Caelum in one of the Arcadium's high chambers, flanked by mages and tacticians.
"I came not just to commend your bravery," she said, voice cool and authoritative, "but to offer something more."
Her eyes settled on Caelum. "You, especially. I believe you possess something rare. Your flames were unlike anything my scouts have seen. I believe you are the Bearer of Might."
Caelum blinked. "I... I don't know what I am."
"That's why I extend this offer," the queen continued. "Join my court as a reserve auxiliary mage. I will personally oversee your training—and ensure your needs are met. Resources, housing, finances—everything. You won't want for support."
Caelum was stunned. Darian nudged him lightly, smiling. "You should do it. It sounds incredible."
But Caelum shook his head. "Thank you, Your Grace. But I need time to think."
Queen Maerion studied him a moment longer. Then she nodded. "The offer stands. When you're ready, you'll be received with honor."
---
That night, the cohort gathered in one of the gardens under floating lanterns.
Teyla crossed her arms. "Still can't believe it. We actually killed a demon."
"Somehow," Bryn muttered. "Honestly? I blacked out."
Eilo looked at Darian. "You were there. What happened?"
Darian hesitated. "I… I don't remember. I woke up in a healer's room."
All eyes turned to Caelum.
He shook his head. "Same here."
Rowan leaned back against a bench. "Strange. Something about that whole thing doesn't sit right with me."
"No kidding," Teyla said. "Still, we're alive. And the demon's not."
---
The next morning, Darian walked alone into the forest. Mist clung to the roots and trunks like lazy spirits.
He stood before a gnarled oak and inhaled.
He focused.
Then punched.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
The frustration burned quietly in his chest. What had happened to him that night?
Suddenly, a faint voice drifted from behind.
Indistinct. Not quite a whisper—more like a ripple through the air.
He turned sharply.
And saw a faint golden wisp curling through the leaves in the direction of the sound.
Panic flared. He turned and ran.
---
Back at the forge, Darian handed the broken remains of his sword to the dwarven smith.
The smith turned it over carefully. "Held together longer than most would expect. But not long enough."
Darian said nothing.
"I'll forge you something stronger," the smith said. "I'll need to travel to the capital. Access to real metal. Real soulstone. We'll build you something worthy."
Darian nodded. "Thank you."
---
Later that evening, the Arcadium gathered for a formal recognition ceremony.
The cohort stood on the central platform, adorned in ceremonial robes.
Their names were read. Their deeds recounted. Medallions hung around their necks.
"For the first time in three thousand years," the headmaster said, "a demon has fallen to human hands. And these brave students stood at the front."
Thunderous applause followed.
And still, Caelum and Darian said nothing.
---
Far away, at the ancient ruin where the first seal had cracked, the stone pulsed.
Then again.
Then rapidly, like a heartbeat.
Darkness leaked from its edges—a thick black ooze that hissed and writhed as it touched the surface.
From it rose a form. Short, hunched, leathery, with sharp eyes and sharper teeth. An imp.
It flexed its fingers and sneered.
"So… the harbinger is gone."
It stepped atop the seal.
"Good. That means it's time to open the gates wider."
It raised its hands and cackled.
"I am the harbinger of the Second Coming."
Its laugh echoed through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, something stirred.