The training grounds hummed with restless energy. Kael clutched the black shard hidden beneath his cloak, feeling its faint pulse echo inside him. From the far edge of the camp, a figure appeared — tall, calm, wrapped in muted robes that blended with the dust and shadow. No one paid much attention at first. Just another traveler, perhaps a wandering scholar, or a visiting instructor.
But those who watched closely felt the air shift — a subtle ripple, like a stone tossed into a still pond. He moved with measured grace, eyes scanning quietly yet piercingly — not just the faces, but something beneath them.
When he approached Kael, there was no fanfare. No recognition spoken aloud. Only a simple nod.
"You carry a thread not yet woven," he said softly, voice deep but gentle.
Kael blinked, unsure what to say.
"I am called Soran," the stranger added.
The name was unfamiliar.
Yet when he spoke, a faint hum vibrated through the air — almost imperceptible, but unmistakably ancient. Unseen by most, the air around Soran shimmered faintly, like heat waves on a distant horizon. He bore no sign of a dragon's might — no scales, no fire.
Yet the legends whispered of Nazgur, Raygon's firstborn — a chaos dragon. And Soran was said to be his bloodline's last echo — the Shard Guide, a keeper of forgotten paths.
"Your awakening is long in coming," Soran said, voice almost a murmur.
"But the threads must be watched, and the paths kept open."
Kael felt a strange calm in those words.
No one knew why Soran was here.
Not even El, watching from the shadows.
She sensed the old power wrapped tightly in his quiet presence — a reminder of something far greater than any of them could yet grasp.