The thunderous clouds that had filled the skies above Eldoria began to slowly break, allowing rays of purple and gold to seep down through the thinning thunderheads. The rain fell quietly, washing away the traces of chaos from the academy's stones, from its walkways — from the hearts of its professors and students alike. The conspiracy had faltered, its plans disrupted by Ezra, Ansel, Callista, and Vulcan — yet its greatest danger remained.
Ezra pressed Harper's Grimoire against his side, its leathern cover still warm from the manifestation's magic. Ansel fell into step beside him, his normally calm demeanor battling growing nervousness. Callista kept her grip tight upon her rune-etched staff, and Vulcan rested his hand upon his blade — their senses sharp and vigilant. All knew something was growing just out of view — something that could destroy their world, or redeem it.
"The Harbinger." Ansel said quietly. "Whatever it is… whatever it wants… it's bound by magic forged by the first mage-council. That much I know. But I do not know where it is… or how we can destroy it… or redeem it…"
"That's what Harper tried to tell me." Ezra whispered, reluctantly turning the Grimoire's fragile pages. "He suspected the Harbinger might be a manifestation of our own ancestors' magic — a manifestation made by the first mage-council to destroy or imprison something greater. The conspiracy might be trying to undo that barrier. The barrier forged by our ancestors' magic. The barrier that kept chaos from spreading across the world."
He paused upon a page filled with shimmering rune-circles, each connected by lines of magic. The names of a dozen mage-council members glimmered faintly — and among them, a name that made his pulse quicken: Vale.
"That's… your family's name." Ansel said quietly. "The Vale family — your ancestors. They were there when the barrier was forged."
"That's not all." Ezra turned a few more fragile pages. "Some of the Nighthawk ancestors — my mother's ancestors — were there, too. Harper suspected our two families kept something hidden — something we must redeem in order to bring peace. The Harbinger isn't a monster… it's a manifestation. A manifestation forged by our ancestors' magic… a manifestation we must redeem together."
He pressed his finger upon a rune, sending a ripple of gold-blue magic upward. The Grimoire glowed faintly, then fell silent — a moment's peace before the chaos to come.
"That's why we must travel to the Vale Family Crypt." Ezra said quietly. "That's where the barrier's magic is anchored. That's where we can redeem or destroy it. Ansel… I need you by my side when we go there. Because our fates — and the fate of magic — are intertwined."
Ansel nodded quietly, reluctantly. "I'm with you. Whatever it costs. Whatever we must do."
Vulcan tightened his grip upon his blade, his knuckles turning white. "I will protect you. All of you. Until the last moment, until our magic runs out. Because I owe you my loyalty — and I owe magic its future."
Callista fell into step alongside them, adding her magic to their collective aura. "Together… we can redeem the Harbinger. We can redeem magic itself. Harper believed in us… I believe in us… and I will not let his death be in vain."
The thunder clouds began to break, letting rays of gold seep down upon the academy's stones. The moment seemed pure, unhindered by chaos — a moment forged by unity, by loyalty, by understanding. The team turned toward their future — toward the Vale Family Crypt — where the greatest showdown in magic's history was destined to take place.