Ari sat beneath the spiraling simulation trees, where artificial wind rustled leaves carved from sigils.
He hadn't moved since the duel ended.
His breath had steadied. His pride hadn't.
He'd been outclassed. Not in power—but in understanding. Every move Cerys made was deliberate. Every spell was a sentence, clean and fluent.
His were stammered syllables of a child speaking fire.
That's when he heard soft footsteps.
Delicate. Hesitant.
"Um... Ari Solen?"
Ari blinked. The girl standing before him was maybe a year older—short, with pale blue hair braided to the side, and crystal-threaded glasses that shimmered slightly at the edges. Her uniform was modest, frayed at the edges, patched with personal stitching.
She clutched a thick tome with one hand and a faintly glowing stylus in the other.
"I—I was watching the duel," she said quickly. "Not in a weird way. Just… um, studying."
"You're a Threadwatcher?" he asked, surprised.
"More like a Spellwright initiate," she said, brushing hair behind her ear. "I specialize in Signum—the spell alphabet." Her eyes flicked to his hands. "You don't write when you cast. That's why you… lose control."
Ari frowned. "I don't have time to write symbols mid-fight."
"No," she said, quietly, "but your mind has to. Or it's just raw magic flailing around."
She sat beside him and unrolled a scroll from her book—a diagram of fundamental Signum syntax.
At the top were core Runelets:
ᚨ (Sol) – Ignite / Begin
ᚦ (Vey) – Bind / Lock
ᛗ (Elen) – Project / Extend
ᚱ (Hal) – Reflect / Return
ᛟ(Nir) – End / Seal
Each had grammatical rules. Sol had to begin a phrase. Nir always closed one. Mixing Elen and Vey caused overload loops.
"Most mages memorize full sequences," she explained. "But hybrid-threaded or Threadless like you? You have to understand the logic. Your system doesn't autofill what you don't know."
"I've never even seen these before," Ari murmured.
"Exactly. You're trying to cast poems without knowing letters."
She drew a small spellform with her stylus in the air—just four strokes.
ᚨSol → ᚦVey → ᚱHal → ᛟNir
A shimmer in the dirt before them. Letters formed in glowing script. A brief gust stirred them into spiral shapes that settled into a protective circle.
"Dustletter Shield," she said. "It repels chaotic threads, like misfired spells. Basic, but elegant."
Ari stared. Not because it was strong, but because it was clean.
Not forced. Not glitching. Not burning his mind.
"That... felt beautiful," he said softly.
Eluin smiled, surprised at his awe. "That's what spellcraft is. Not power. Language."
Ari glanced sideways. "Why help me?"
"Because you're like me," she said, voice nearly a whisper. "I'm a Ghostthread—barely enough affinity to be considered Threaded. But I studied. I learned the letters. And I saw you... during the duel."
"What did you see?"
"Not fire. Not wind. Not chaos."
She looked up at him.
"I saw someone trying to speak, and the world not knowing how to listen."
As she stood to leave, Eluin hesitated.
"One more thing… You've heard the whisper, haven't you?"
Ari froze. "What whisper?"
"In your dreams. Between spells. When you reach too deep."
Her voice turned hollow.
"Arin-Ela. Arin-Ela. Return to root."
A chill crawled down Ari's spine.
She bowed lightly. "When you're ready to listen to the System... I'll help you learn to write its name."
And then she vanished into the library corridor.