The mountaintop was blanketed in a thin layer of snow, with narrow streams of water snaking down the slopes like the roots of a tree. Above, the sky lay hidden behind a thick sheet of gray clouds. The wind howled, cold and unforgiving, hurling snow and shards of ice through the air like a relentless storm.
Kael stepped forward without hesitation. As he moved, the world around him blurred for a brief moment, then dropped away. His coat whipped behind him, caught by the wind, and his hair stirred wildly as he descended the five-meter drop.
He landed in a deep crouch, a muted thud muffled by snow. A puff of white powder burst upward around him. Slowly, his coat settled against his frame, the fabric still fluttering faintly in the mountain air as he rose to his full height.
Kael's eyes swept across the open, snow-covered stretch before him.
'It shouldn't be too far now.'
Reaching into his inner pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper, the edges worn and slightly curled from travel. He unfolded it slowly, eyes scanning the hand-drawn markings, letting the cold air whistle past as he read.
It had been two weeks since he and Darian had parted ways, and Kael had not been idle. As the wind swept past him, he unfolded the worn map and let his eyes trace the inked lines. It was a detailed sketch of the mountain chain encircling Velthoria, every ridge, drop, and passage carefully marked. Small crosses and colored circles dotted the parchment, and Kael's gaze lingered on one particular cross longer than the others. A moment passed. Then he folded the map and slipped it back into his coat.
A brief glance in both directions. Then a smooth pivot, and he resumed walking.
The ground was uneven and treacherous, loose rocks, jagged ice, and hidden patches of frost that would snap a mortal's ankle with a single misstep. But for Kael, it was nothing. Compared to his first journey to Velthoria alongside Torin's group, this felt effortless. He no longer had to feign weakness, no longer had to restrain himself.
With a fluid motion, he placed a hand on a protruding stone and vaulted over, landing softly on the other side without breaking pace.
His steps slowed when the sound of a rushing stream reached his ears, louder than the others he'd passed. He turned his head, adjusting his course toward the source.
Then he stopped.
Before him rose a cliff, sheer and glistening, at least twenty meters high. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers. In response, a golden rod shimmered into existence beside him, floating calmly in the frigid air.
A flick of his finger, and it moved forward, hovering just ahead. Kael reached out and grasped it. With two fingers raised, his index and middle extended upward, the rod responded, lifting him gently off the ground, carrying him through the cold mountain air toward the cliff's summit.
As soon as he reached the top of the cliff, Kael dismissed the mote and landed lightly on the ground, taking a few quick steps to steady himself. The surface here was flat, free of loose rocks, and the sound of rushing water was clearer than ever.
He glanced around, scanning for a suitable stone. Finding one, he brushed away a layer of powdered snow and sat down, his eyes fixed on the view ahead.
'Past this river... its territory should begin.'
Before him, a wide river, ten meters across, snaked down the mountainside, carrying chunks of ice and snow along its roaring current. Cold mist clung to the surface, rising in pale tendrils before vanishing into the wind.
Kael exhaled, his breath blooming into a small cloud of vapor that faded just as quickly.
He extended his will.
Behind him, a colossal stone coffin emerged from the air, its weight settling heavily into the snow. The thick slab of its door began to groan open, slow and forceful, pushing snow and rocks aside.
'I hope this works.'
He watched the drifting clouds roll overhead, his posture still and patient as the echo of the coffin's shifting stone reverberated through the mountain pass. Finally, the door came to a halt with a deep, hollow thud.
Kael turned and willed again. A small bag sparked into existence inside the now-open chamber.
"That should do it," he murmured under his breath.
Just as he was about to dismiss the mote, something caught his eye, a tiny black dot, perched atop the coffin's seven-meter-high structure.
A raven.
It stood perfectly still, its head tilted slightly as it scanned the mountain with unsettling calm.
Kael's gaze sharpened, turning to ice.
In one swift motion, he flung his arm out and snapped his fingers. The golden rod appeared instantly beside him, shooting forward with blinding speed, nothing more than a blur as it struck the raven dead-on.
Or it should have.
Instead, the raven exploded into a flurry of black feathers, vanishing in the wind like smoke.
'They're getting restless.'
Kael's eyes lingered on the empty space where the bird had stood, his expression unreadable. A beat passed. Then he dismissed both motes.
The golden rod dissolved into shimmering sparks, fading without a sound. The stone coffin responded with a deafening slam as its door shut tight, the echo ringing through the cliffs. It held for only a moment before crumbling into gray fragments that scattered with the wind.
Kael walked over to the small bag, picked it up, and returned to his seat. Loosening the string, he peeked inside and quickly counted.
'Fifty mindstones… more than half my reserves.'
The thought sat heavy in his mind. It wasn't ideal, but it couldn't be helped. His time in Velthoria had been short, and intense. He'd been moving nonstop, focused entirely on preparation and reconnaissance. There had been no time for missions.
With a quiet sigh, he tied the bag shut and slipped it into his pocket before rising again and walking toward the river. He stopped just as his foot was about to touch the icy water.
His eyes narrowed.
"What's gotten into me lately?"
The question left him softly, but his expression had hardened.
Over the past two weeks, he'd noticed it, small, subtle cracks forming in his otherwise precise behavior. Misplaced items. Wandering thoughts. Delayed reactions. Sluggish reasoning. These weren't just momentary lapses, they were patterns. Flaws.
No one else might have noticed.
But Kael did.
His brows drew together, tension rippling through him. Then, he turned back, walking once more to the flat stone where he had rested before. He sat down cross-legged and closed his eyes, drawing his focus inward.
When he opened them again, he was surrounded by white, his soul.
The familiar vastness of his inner realm stretched endlessly around him. Above him coiled the great river of will: a titanic current of red energy threaded with flickering silver ,his Thoughts.
It moved like a living thing, slow and endless.
Kael stood in silence, arms crossed, eyes fixed on it.
"Everything seems normal here..."
But even as he said it, unease lingered beneath the surface. Something felt off, but nothing looked it.
Time stretched, but Kael remained still.
With a subtle motion, he guided the colossal red river of will closer, narrowing his focus. He reached out, drawing a thin stream of will from its current, letting it pool softly in his hand. He studied it briefly before lifting his palm, willing the energy to take form.
The will responded, stretching into a thin square of shimmering red before him. Within it, the silver specks, his Thoughts, shifted and twisted, dancing erratically as if resisting his control.
They moved endlessly, countless… yet as Kael watched them more closely, a cold unease settled in his chest.
They were disappearing.
Not fading naturally, not dispersing with use, no, they were vanishing. And Kael wasn't doing anything to cause it.
"So that's it."
The pieces began to click into place, understanding pushing aside doubt.
"Of course… How could I have missed something so crucial?"
A sharp exhale, half a snicker, half a sigh of self-disdain.
It was obvious.
Beasts possessed Will and Soul.
Motes carried Will and Thoughts.
Only humans held all three. Thought, Will, and Soul.
The soul was the source. It produced both Will and Thoughts, shaping them and giving them purpose.
When a mote was refined by a Luminaire, it became anchored in their inner realm, feeding directly off the host's soul to sustain its Will and Thoughts.
But when a mote remained unclaimed, wild, what fueled it?
The answer wasn't new. Luminaires had discovered it long ago. Nothing in this world came from nothing.
When a wild mote had no soul to draw upon, heaven itself stepped in.
Heaven, the embodiment of natural law, the invisible framework of reality.
A mote without a host leeched off heaven's laws, consuming fragments of the world's very essence to sustain itself.
But the moment a Luminaire claimed a mote, isolating it within their inner realm, that connection was severed. The mote was locked away, cut off from heaven. And with no world to draw from, it turned solely to its host for sustenance.
A Luminaire's soul.
A finite source.
Kael dismissed the red square, letting it dissolve back into the great river of will. His expression darkened, his mind sharpening.
What happened when a Luminaire kept too many motes in their inner realm?
The answer was painfully simple.
When too many motes leeched from the host's soul, the soul began to weaken. As far as Kael knew, a human soul wasn't some fixed reservoir. It didn't just sit there, full and unchanging. No.
It was something constantly spent, constantly renewed.
It burned itself away to create Thought and Will.
That was life, a continuous cycle of consumption and replenishment.
But now… with so many motes draining his soul, the balance had started to tip. His soul wasn't recovering fast enough to match what was being taken.
"It must've been the Point Aegis mote that pushed it over the edge."
Kael crossed his arms, his mind shifting into high gear.
"So the limit… The number of motes I can carry without risking decline is…"
He paused, thinking carefully.
"Five. Including my soulbound motes. Golden Pea, Obsidian Shard, Titanwood Stalker, Stone Coffin and the Lure. And when I added the Point Aegis—"
He tapped his finger against his arm..
"That was it. The tipping point. That's when my soul started to slip."
And with that thought, everything started to fall into place.
The lapses in focus. The mistakes. The dulled instincts. The forgetfulness that hadn't made sense, until now.
It wasn't carelessness.
It wasn't fatigue.
It was his soul, stretched thin and beginning to crack.
Kael's gaze lingered on the coiling red river of Will, his eyes half-focused as if seeing something beyond it.
This wasn't just dangerous. It was worse. It was subtle. And subtle dangers were the deadliest of all.
At first glance, a weakening soul didn't seem like much. A little mental fog. A few minor lapses. Harmless.
But it wasn't harmless.
It was an ocean in disguise.
As his soul weakened, his critical thinking eroded with it. At first, barely noticeable, a forgotten detail, a slow reaction. But left unchecked, it would unravel everything. His mind would grow duller, his instincts less reliable, until the day came when he wouldn't even realize what was happening to him. By then, it would be too late.
A silent, creeping death.
Kael almost shivered at the thought.
The world could burn, and he wouldn't blink. But losing his own mind.
Losing himself?
That was the one thing he couldn't afford.