The first thing Karl noticed when he woke was the scent of ash.
Not smoke. Not fire.
Ash.
It clung to the air around him like something remembered by the body, not the nose—familiar, ancient, wrong.
His shoulder still burned.
The fifth glyph had fully settled overnight. Thin, sharp rings of light looped across his shoulder blade, like the markings of a predator that no longer knew how to sleep.
Raiven sat at the foot of the bed, alert.
"Something is watching. Not near. But from… beyond."
Karl didn't need to ask what he meant.
The Gate.
Down in the vaulted library corridor, whispers had begun to spread.
Whispers of the unbound beast.
Of its words.
Of Karl's name—Veynrith—spoken in fear and reverence alike.
And of the emissary from the Shadelands.
No one knew where he came from.
But they all felt it.
Something had entered the academy walls…
that didn't belong to this era.
In the council chamber, Headmaster Elaris Caelestis reviewed a newly unsealed archive.
It wasn't from the academy.
It was older. From before even the last war.
It contained a list.
A record of Veilborne individuals.
Half-remembered names. Lost lineages.
And in the center of the scroll—burned, faded, but still legible—one line had been scratched over and over until it bled through the page:
"Veynrith - Forbidden to speak. Should he awaken, do not seal. Observe."
She let out a breath.
"So it really is him."
Training Grounds
Karl stood at the center of the empty sparring ring, cloak pulled back, shirt loose over his shoulders. The air was cooler here. Still.
The fifth glyph on his shoulder shimmered faintly.
He raised his blade.
And in silence, he began the stances.
One by one.
Each flow smoother than the last.
Each motion heavier.
As if the ground itself remembered the weight of the blade before Karl did.
Aeris watched from the balcony above.
She hadn't said anything since that morning.
Not since seeing the fifth glyph with her own eyes.
She didn't know what frightened her more: that Karl was changing…
or that she was changing alongside him.
Her fingers clenched at her side, brushing the rune-charm her mother gave her as a child.
That charm had one command woven into it—never to be spoken aloud.
"Bury the Eye."
As Karl finished his motion, a soft clapping echoed from the edge of the field.
He turned.
The emissary stood there, expression unreadable.
His eyes shimmered silver in the light.
"Your stance is tighter than I expected. You haven't lost it completely."
Karl narrowed his eyes.
"You sent the shard. You called me Veynrith."
The emissary stepped forward.
"Because that's who you are. Or were. Or might become again. It's complicated."
"Then explain."
The man tilted his head.
"You wouldn't believe me yet. But you will."
He tapped his temple.
"When the sixth glyph awakens, your dreams will no longer be just dreams. They'll become… memories."
Karl's voice was low.
"I'm already remembering things I never lived."
The emissary smiled.
"Then you're right on time."
Later that day, Karl sat beside Aeris near the old fountain at the edge of the courtyard. The sun had just dipped below the wall, casting gold and violet hues across the stone.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
Finally, Aeris broke the silence.
"Do you ever wish you weren't the one chosen?"
Karl didn't answer at first.
Then:
"I don't think I was chosen. I think I'm… what's left."
She turned to him.
"What do you mean?"
He looked at her—not just saw her, but truly looked.
The way her fingers trembled ever so slightly.
The way her smile had grown quieter in the past days.
"I think I'm someone who lost everything… and is being forced to remember it all."
Aeris swallowed hard.
"If you remember everything… do you think you'll still be you?"
That question sat between them like a blade.
Karl looked down at his hands.
"I don't know."
She moved closer.
"Then I'll be the one who remembers for you."
That night, Karl stood alone in the tower dormitory, staring into a basin of mana-infused water. The glyphs on his body pulsed gently, echoing with the blade resting at his side.
Raiven stood behind him, his voice distant.
"The emissary is lying about something."
Karl nodded slowly.
"I know. But I don't think he wants to hurt me."
"No. He wants to guide you… toward something he can't reach."
Karl dipped his hand into the basin.
And the water rippled—not with reflection, but with vision.
He saw the silhouette of a battle.
Screams.
Dragons.
An army of beasts bound by light and flame.
And a figure at the front… blade raised.
Him.
And a voice whispered—
"You must finish what we failed to do."
Meanwhile – Unknown Chamber
The emissary stood alone before a sealed vault.
He held a scroll of broken memory—one etched with the glyph of the eighth seal.
He placed his hand on it.
"He's remembering too fast. The fifth came too soon."
Behind him, a second voice spoke—feminine, veiled in shadow.
"Then stall him. Or guide him faster. Before the others arrive."
The emissary's voice was soft.
"They're already here."