——[When Family Secrets Collide with Cosmic Destiny]
Shawn's room was dimly lit, the faint glow from the desk lamp barely touching the corners.
His breath was still uneven, his heart pounding as though it might leap from his chest.
The sensations of that conference room—the voices, the tension, the weight of their words—clung to him, too vivid to be a mere dream.
But it had to be, right?
His fingers clenched around the jade-like seal pendant. Smooth. Cool. An emerald-green hue swirled beneath its surface, shifting like something alive.
It hadn't disappeared. It was real.
Swallowing hard, Shawn glanced at the clock. Past midnight.
Too late to call anyone.
But there was one person he needed to see.
Grandfa.
He slid out of bed, moving quietly through the house, wrapped in the stillness of the night.
The air outside was cool, barely noticeable as he stepped into the darkness.
The path to his grandfather's study was lined with ancient trees, their branches whispering secrets in the wind.The elderly often stay up late, engrossed in the study of traditional Oriental culture.
Tonight, Shawn hoped that was still the case.
A light spilled from the window. A good sign.
He knocked once, twice.
The door creaked open a moment later, its sound sharp in the hush of the old study.
Faint lamplight filtered through latticed windows, casting slanted shadows across the shelves lined with ancient tomes and data tablets.
The scent of aged paper and sandalwood lingered in the air. Everything felt still—too still, like the room had been holding its breath for years.
Shawn stepped in slowly, the weight of the seal pendant tugging at his neck like a warning.
A cold draft brushed past him, and the floorboards gave a faint groan under his shoes.
Across the room, his grandfather was bent over his desk, the lamp's glow pooling around his hunched frame.
He turned a thick, worn book in his hands—its leather cover cracked at the spine.
As the pages shifted, Shawn caught a glimpse of the title etched in faded gold:Meta I Ching Research.
His chest tightened.
"Meta I Ching…"
He murmured, stepping closer. The words tasted strange on his tongue, like something ancient awakening.
His eyes lingered on the book before rising to meet his grandfather's.
"Is it related to the Meta-Origin Sect?"
The old man's fingers froze mid-page.
The rustle of paper ceased. A long pause stretched before he finally looked up.
His sharp gaze locked onto Shawn like a blade slipping from its sheath.
"Yes," he said, voice low, deliberate—each word a gate with a lock. "But you must never speak of Meta-Origin Sect in public."
Shawn frowned. "Why?"
A tired sigh escaped his grandfather's lips. He closed the book with a soft thud that echoed louder than it should have.
"Because some things in this world are not meant to be spoken of lightly."
Shawn sat down across from him, the heavy desk like a boundary between two worlds.
He placed the seal pendant down gently, almost reverently, as if it might vanish the moment he blinked.
His grandfather's gaze shifted to the pendant. His eyes didn't just see it—they remembered it.
"You've stepped into something much larger than you realize."
Shawn's hands clenched at his sides beneath the desk, knuckles white. His breath hitched. "It wasn't just a dream, was it?"
His grandfather's eyes didn't waver.
"No."
The cold air thickened, seeping into Shawn's skin, down to his bones.
He had feared the answer, but hearing it spoken aloud froze the last thread of denial.
"What was that place?" he asked, voice tight, barely more than a whisper.
His grandfather reached forward. Weathered fingers traced the pendant's edge, as if confirming its presence, its truth.
"A space between realities," he said. "A meeting point of forces that shape more than just this world." He looked up, his gaze razor-sharp.
"And you were called there for a reason."
Shawn's heart skipped. "What reason?"
The old man's fingers paused. His eyes clouded with something unreadable—grief, maybe, or fear.
Shawn leaned in. He saw it. Felt it.
"You know, don't you?" he pressed.
His grandfather let out a slow breath. "Some answers must come in their own time."
Frustration rose like fire. "Why? Why not now?"
His grandfather's silence was a stone wall—immovable, unbreakable.
"Because you're not ready."
Shawn's fists curled, nails biting into his palms. His jaw clenched.
"That's not fair," he said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "If I'm in danger, if something's happening, I have a right to know."
The old man's eyes softened, but his lips didn't move.
Shawn exhaled hard through his nose. Fine. Change tactics.
"Then at least tell me this." He leaned forward, heat behind his stare. "The paper—the one with the Thunder Arcane Core symbol. Where did it come from?"
A visible flicker crossed his grandfather's face. One hand subtly shifted, resting on the edge of the paper as if protecting it.
"It was given to me by a friend," he said at last, his voice quieter. "Someone I trusted deeply."
Shawn narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
His grandfather said nothing.
Shawn's gaze dropped to the paper beneath his grandfather's hand. Something about the way he touched it—possessive, cautious—set off an alarm in Shawn's mind.
"Grandpa," he asked slowly, "are you… a member of the Meta-Origin Sect?"
A beat.
A hesitation.
Small, but unmistakable.
Then came the answer, steady and deliberate. "No. But she was."
Shawn blinked. "She?"
His grandfather didn't reply. His fingers began tracing the edges of the paper again—this time with something almost like reverence.
His eyes stared past Shawn, into a memory long buried.
"Eighteen years…" he murmured, as if the words had slipped free without permission.
"I've guarded this for eighteen years…"
Shawn's pulse quickened. "What is it?" he demanded.
But his grandfather didn't answer.
The light from the lamp cast deep lines across his face.
His eyes shimmered with a grief that language couldn't reach.
Shawn opened his mouth to press further—but stopped.
Whatever he saw in the old man's face—it wasn't silence.
It was mourning.
And it told him that—for now—the conversation was over.
The room felt smaller, shadows flickering as if drawn to the jade seal pendant.
Shawn took a sharp breath.
Normal no longer felt possible.
His fingers tightened around the pendant, its faint pulse steady, waiting.
"I can't ignore it," he murmured. "Even if I wanted to."
His grandfather nodded, unsurprised.
"Then we begin."
Outside, the wind carried whispers of long-buried secrets.
In Shawn's hands, the past and future trembled, waiting to be unlocked.
The pendant pulsed softly, casting eerie shadows.
A strange sensation washed over him—part premonition, part warning.
Somewhere, the other Arcane Core waited.
And with it, a force that would change everything.