Steel clashed against mana-forged stone, sending a ripple of kinetic pressure across the arena floor.
Karl exhaled slowly as he lowered his blade, the glow of the fourth glyph still simmering beneath his right sleeve. Across from him, Aeris stood with her arms folded, sweat lining her brow, a faint shimmer of her Soulbind's aura fading behind her.
"You're pulling your swings again," she said flatly.
"And you're holding back your mana."
They stared at each other for a moment, neither flinching.
"I'm not your enemy, Karl," Aeris said, quieter this time.
Karl didn't respond immediately. His mind wasn't on the sparring match. It hadn't been for days. Not since the fourth glyph carved itself into his arm like a living brand, not since the dream of the girl who called him Veynrith.
Not since the man with silver eyes left the shard.
Elsewhere, in the sealed chambers beneath the east tower, Headmaster Elaris Caelestis stood before the academy council.
A glowing map hovered in the air between them—etched with leyline energy, showing the encircling wards of Valdros.
"We've received a transmission," Elaris said, her voice even but sharp.
"A foreign dignitary from the Shadelands is en route to our academy."
"By whose invitation?" asked one of the elder arcanists.
Elaris handed over a sealed glyph-signed message.
"None. He claims to have studied the Gate during the Whispering Collapse. He's not coming for us. He's coming for the boy."
One word was burned into the bottom of the message in mirrored ink:
"Eryndor."
Aeris returned to her dorm that night to find a letter waiting on her bed.
No seal. No signature.
But she recognized the handwriting.
It was her grandmother's.
She opened it slowly.
"If the fourth glyph is active, you must begin preparations. The fifth marks the point of no return. If he is to become the Eye, your duty is clear. We will not interfere unless he loses control. But you must be ready to end him if he does. You swore this, Aeris."
She stared at the words.
And then she burned the letter over her sink, watching the ash drift upward like falling snow.
The next day arrived quiet and cold.
Too quiet.
In the distance, bells rang—not the class bells.
The alarm glyphs.
Students poured into the halls as instructors appeared in flashes of magic, shouting orders.
A rip had opened on the outer ward—a breach in the enchanted barrier surrounding Valdros.
And from it… came something unnatural.
The beast that stepped into the outer court wasn't summoned.
It wasn't bonded.
It shouldn't have existed within the walls of the capital, let alone Valdros.
A creature of dark fur, nearly wolf-like in form, but bearing six limbs and horns that curled inward toward a third eye on its forehead—sealed shut.
Its body pulsed with dormant glyphs. Its breath steamed even in the summer heat.
It walked on four limbs like a hound…
But its gaze held human calculation.
Karl arrived at the edge of the plaza just as instructors began encircling the beast. Several shouted for students to evacuate. Shields were raised.
But the beast didn't attack.
It stood still.
Until its head turned—slowly—toward Karl.
And the glyphs across its limbs ignited.
Raiven growled from the side of Karl's shadow.
"That thing isn't wild. It's not lost. It's drawn."
Karl stepped forward, ignoring the instructors' warnings.
The fourth glyph on his wrist responded—glowing faintly, synchronizing to the creature's glyphs.
Then the beast charged.
The clash sent a sonic wave across the courtyard.
Karl rolled beneath the creature's swipe, drawing his blade mid-motion. The beast twisted in midair, snarling, sending out a shockwave that shattered nearby runes on the warded stone.
"Stand back!" shouted Instructor Saelen, but Karl didn't stop.
He moved into the Second Veilblade Stance, using the rhythm of the beast's weight against it. Two strikes met midair, one claw, one blade.
Then the fourth glyph surged.
And Karl vanished.
For a moment.
Just a breath.
He reappeared behind the beast, blade humming.
The beast stopped.
Its body lowered.
And then…
It knelt.
Before Karl.
The glyphs across its form pulsed, and from its closed third eye, a projection flickered—an echo.
A voice, fractured and old, escaped from its throat:
"Veynrith… The commander lives…"
The crowd went silent.
Instructors frozen. Students stunned.
The creature bowed lower.
Then collapsed—glyphs vanishing—into a cloud of stardust.
Gone.
Later that night, the council reconvened.
Elaris stood alone in the chamber now, reading a fresh report.
The beast was Veil-class.
Unbonded.
Ancient.
And it spoke.
She looked up at the floating crystal on her desk.
A message from the Shadelands emissary.
It had only five words:
"He wasn't meant to survive."
Back in the dorm gardens, Karl stood beneath the open sky, glyphs faintly glowing under his skin.
Aeris joined him without a word.
He didn't ask about the letter she burned.
And she didn't ask about the voice from the beast.
They just stood there—watching the stars pulse like memories waiting to return.