The infirmary's candlelight flickered gently against the marble walls. Outside, the distant calls of nocturnal creatures echoed across the mist-veiled courtyards. But within the Academy, the night held a breathless stillness—one that seemed to gather itself before the next inevitable storm.
Jake lay still.
Though his breathing had steadied and his wounds were carefully tended to by the professors, he had yet to open his eyes. Beside him, a faint pulse of residual mana curled around his limbs—scar tissue in magical form, evidence of the price he'd paid for pushing himself far past his limits.
Professor Lysenne stood quietly at the edge of the room, her expression unreadable. Her silver hair shimmered in the moonlight filtering through the window. She had healed thousands of students, but this one felt different.
"He fought like a man with nothing left to lose," she murmured.
"No," came a soft voice from behind her. "He fought like someone who refuses to be left behind."
Seth.
He stood at the doorway, one hand casually tucked into his coat, the other gripping a sealed scroll. His eyes were calm, but a thin shadow of thought lingered behind them—distant, calculating.
Andrea stepped in beside him, arms folded. "We're leaving again," she said, looking toward Jake. "But he'll wake up."
Lysenne gave a nod, her eyes never leaving the sleeping boy. "He will. And when he does, he'll be different."
Seth didn't respond. He didn't have to.
—
Elsewhere, beneath the Academy
The underground chambers weren't on any map. Shielded by layers of spatial enchantments, they were only accessible to those deemed necessary—those trusted.
A massive chamber opened before Seth and Andrea, lit only by arcs of crystalline light. They stood on a circular platform, surrounded by relics—strange devices, ancient weapons, and holographic constructs that pulsed with dormant energy.
"Why now?" Andrea asked quietly. "Why show us this?"
A voice echoed from above them—clear, powerful, and old.
"Because the era of preparation is over."
Descending from the spiral steps came Headmaster Vaelen, his cloak trailing like a wave of ink behind him. His eyes, gleaming with ethereal intelligence, scanned the two students.
"You two have done what no others dared—cleansed Ignis beyond the safe zones. And you've drawn attention because of it. Not just from us. From them."
He waved his hand. A holographic map shimmered into view. Five universes, connected by the Gate's central pulse. One of them—Verneville, the magic-based world—glowed red.
"A ripple has occurred," Vaelen said. "A major disturbance. Something… or someone… has breached the Archival Vaults of Verneville. Records say this hasn't happened in centuries."
Andrea's eyes narrowed. "You want us to investigate."
Vaelen nodded. "We've already sent scouts. They didn't return."
Seth studied the map, his expression unchanging. "You think it's related to the Gate's acceleration?"
"I don't think. I know," Vaelen replied, voice heavy. "Time is fracturing. Paths that were once sealed are starting to bleed into one another."
He turned to Seth. "You've seen it, haven't you? The world fraying at the edges."
Seth was silent for a beat. Then, a slow nod.
The Gate wasn't just a path—it was a pulse. And now, it was quickening.
—
Verneville – Three Days Later
The portal opened with a hiss of magic and light, depositing them in a place of ruins.
Once, this had been a flourishing academy of magic—towers of crystalline glass and flowing leyline energy. Now, it was rubble. The air smelled of ozone and death. Spells gone wrong still fizzed through the cracks in the earth like dying stars.
Andrea raised her hand, igniting a protective veil of flame around them. Seth stepped forward, eyes scanning the decay.
No sign of battle.
No bodies.
Just... erasure.
"Whatever did this," Andrea said, voice low, "didn't fight for long."
Seth knelt beside a shattered seal, fingers tracing a symbol etched into the ground.
A spiral within a spiral.
Not Verneville magic.
Not Abyssian either.
Andrea crouched beside him. "That mark… you've seen it before."
"Yeah," Seth murmured. "In my dreams."
He looked up, and for a second, his eyes weren't green—but silver.
A quiet storm had begun.