The city of Vorthryn didn't rise—it sprawled.
Built into the jagged mountains of northern Valern, the capital looked less like a city and more like a fortress birthed from the mountain itself. Thick basalt walls ringed every district, layered with dark iron and shimmering enchantments. The buildings were square, flat-roofed, and windowless, linked by narrow streets made for defense, not luxury. Everything here had purpose. The bridges between sectors were retractable. The watchtowers embedded crystals that lit the air with eerie pulses. Even the streetlamps were made of glowing mana stone, ever-burning, ever-watching.
At the heart of it all stood the Tribunal Hall—a colossal obsidian structure carved with runes older than any known script. No windows. Just one giant stone door, guarded day and night.
Ajax stood at the upper edge of the fortress in the scout quarter with Reva, staring down at their new home.
"I thought it'd be louder," Reva muttered.
"It is," Ajax replied. "Just not the kind of loud you hear with your ears."
A silence passed between them. Tension in the stone. The air. The waiting.
⸻
The uniforms were delivered by dusk.
A quartermaster brought them in person—two sets, folded with military precision. They were darker than Ajax expected.
Reva soon entered and found Ajax standing tall beneath the torchlit archway of Vorthryn's barracks, the new Valern scout uniform clinging to him like shadow made flesh.
The coat was matte obsidian, sleek and sculpted, with layered plates of blacksteel bracing his shoulders and forearms—lightweight, flexible, and forged for war. Down the long edges of the coat ran dual emerald lines, thin as thread but glowing faintly where mana stirred beneath the weave. They framed him like drawn blades, subtle but impossible to ignore.
At the chest, a spiral emblem was stitched in deep green over his heart—Valern's mark for the sanctioned elite who could use dual casting.
His gloves were fitted tight, etched with tracer seams that shimmered as he flexed his fingers. The boots were reinforced with reactive coils beneath the heel, responding to every Pulse Gate surge with soft pressure-releasing bursts.
The coat's lower hem split into tattered, daggered tails that rippled like smoke with each step, giving him the appearance of a phantom between worlds. He wore it like a second skin. Like armor, memory, and prophecy bound into one.
Green eyes glinted beneath dark tousled hair, quiet and deadly.
He looked less like a boy.
More like a force.
Reva's was sleeker—her coat cut shorter, her boots thinner, built for speed. Twin dagger sheathes crossed behind her belt, and her sleeves were fitted with pressure-reactive fiber, allowing for speed bursts on impact.
Ajax watched her eyes as she inspected the coat.
"You like it?" he asked.
"It'll do," she said, but her smile betrayed her.
Later that evening, when Reva left to help oversee supply intake, Ajax carried both uniforms to his quarters and shut the door.
He worked in silence.
His fingers moved across the seams, threading invisible glyphs beneath the cloth, sealing them into place with breath-light mana. Weight reduction first. Then a durability shield, like layering wind between fabric and skin. It would allow for the uniform to repair itself if damaged. Finally, something more advanced: a manafield tether, linking the wearer's heartbeat to the coat's inner lining. If either of them fell unconscious in battle, the enchantment would pulse outward, flaring a distress beacon visible to those attuned.
Only Ajax could create these.
And only Reva would wear one without ever needing to ask.
When he finished, he folded her uniform and left it on her bed.
No note.
⸻
The mess hall bustled with quiet tension. Scout officers sat in scattered clumps, eating with the rhythm of people who didn't speak unless they had to. Reva sat alone at the far end, legs up on the bench, swirling a spoon through a bowl of green stew.
Ajax slid onto the bench across from her.
She squinted. "You enchanted it, didn't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I can feel it. This thing is practically floating on my shoulders. You gonna' let me know how you enchant things? Or why only you can do it?"
He shrugged.
Reva smiled. "Well, thanks."
They sat in silence for a while, the low din of the hall filling the air between them. Somewhere down the line, a pair of soldiers sparred over a dice game. A tray clattered. Voices murmured.
Finally, Reva leaned forward.
"You noticed Karian hasn't come to see us?"
Ajax nodded.
"And Thalen?" she asked.
"Not since the letter," Ajax said. "He might be on assignment."
"Or dead."
Ajax glanced up. Her tone was half-joking. But only half.
"We'll find out," he said.
Reva looked at him for a long moment. "You've changed."
"So have you."
"Not like this." She rested her chin in her palm. "You used to move like you had something to prove. Now it's like… you already know how the fight ends."
"I don't need to prove anything to anyone," Ajax said. "Just make sure I survive long enough to keep my promises."
She blinked.
And said nothing.
⸻
They met on the sand circle behind the barracks. A dozen scouts gathered to watch—quietly curious, but expectant. Word had spread of the boy who tied Soleil, and the girl who moved like mist and lightning.
Ajax wore the his black coat with green accents, and reva wore hers. It would be their first practical test of the outfits.
"First to three touches?" she asked.
Ajax nodded.
"No holding back," she added.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
The duel began.
Reva moved like a whisper—low, tight, and fast. Her daggers blurred as she swept across the sand, aiming a feint at his throat and pivoting for a leg slice.
Ajax parried with the side of his boot, using the enchantment's lift to float just enough above her strike. He spun, extended two fingers, and tapped her ribs.
"Point," he said.
Reva grunted. "Not bad."
She came again. Faster now. Pulse Gate activated—her eyes sharper, her stance tighter.
Ajax summoned a mana staff mid-step, deflecting her first dagger. He ducked low, rolling past her second blade, and swept her foot with it. She stumbled—and he tapped her back with a glowing palm.
"Point two."
Then she disappeared.
She launched herself at full speed—using every ounce of the Pulse Gate to overwhelm him. Her daggers blurred as she circled him in a spiral, closing in from the left.
Ajax didn't move.
He waited.
And as her left dagger came in, he conjured a third arm made of mana, connecting it to his back and, without even turning, caught her wrist mid-swing.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Reva's eyes widened.
"You read that?"
"I remembered," Ajax said. "You always lead with your left when you're serious."
He pivoted, released his mana arm, knocked her to the ground, and placed a shimmering mana sword at her throat—long, elegant, perfectly formed from instinct.
"Three."
The crowd didn't cheer.
They stared.
Not at Reva, but at Ajax.
Because more impressive than the genius who had unlocked the second gate at six years old, was a child enshrouded in mystery.
The sword in his hand flickered with a ripple of light no one recognized—structure and emotion held together in impossible balance.
Not conjured.
Created.
⸻
That evening, the sun dipped behind Vorthryn's jagged spires, casting long shadows across the blackstone buildings. The scout hall was quieter now, as the final rays of orange gold filtered through the hall windows.
A knock echoed at the door.
A scout officer entered and handed Reva a scroll sealed with a silver crest.
She opened it and read aloud:
Assignment: Covert Reconnaissance
Target: Cairn Border Garrison, North Ridge
Objective: Infiltrate, report defenses, extract key intelligence if possible
Assigned Operatives: Scout Ajax | Scout Reva
Commanding Officer: General Deyar
Deployment: Sunrise.
Reva lowered the scroll slowly.
Ajax stared out the window.
"Ready?" she asked.
He didn't answer right away.
He looked at his hands—the same ones that had held swords of kings, the same ones that had carved glyphs into steel and spirit. And now, they shook no more.
He nodded.
"I've been ready for a long time."