The academy halls had quieted by the time evening settled in, but for Kaen and his team, the real work had only begun.
Inside their private strategy room, a floating map glowed with shifting leyline patterns. Red pulses flickered across the continent, each one a marker of recent gate activity. The tension in the room was thick.
"Four A+ rank gates in under a week," Lirien said, standing at the head of the table. "Two were sealed by senior units. One was lost."
"Lost?" Kyel asked, leaning forward.
"It destabilized. Collapsed into a rift. Devoured the team inside," Lirien said flatly.
The room fell into silence.
Kaen stood apart, eyes fixed not on the map, but the shifting leylines around it. He saw what others didn't—the way the world itself was groaning under the pressure of something awakening. Like a whisper traveling through the bones of existence.
Zian's gaze narrowed. "This isn't normal dimensional decay. These gates aren't just opening—they're being pulled open."
"Something is interfering with the world's flow," Rin agreed, her fingers glowing faintly as she traced data sigils. "And it's ancient."
Kaen didn't speak until everyone looked at him.
"The leylines aren't just reacting," he said, voice calm. "They're remembering."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Leylines can remember?"
Kaen didn't answer. But deep down, he knew it was true. The world was stitched together with threads of magic older than gods and angels. And now, those threads were fraying.
Selene turned to Lirien. "Where's our next deployment?"
"A site near the collapsed rift," Lirien replied. "We leave at sunrise."
That night, while the others slept, Kaen stood on the highest balcony of the Academy's spire. The wind tugged at his coat. He looked toward the eastern horizon, where the ruins of a forgotten city shimmered faintly in the distance—hidden even from maps.
A soft flutter of wings broke the silence.
The white crow landed silently on the railing beside him.
Kaen didn't look at it. "So you're watching again."
The bird tilted its head, its eyes reflecting something far deeper than the stars.
"She's awakening, isn't she?" Kaen whispered. His voice carried not hope or fear—but certainty.
The crow gave no reply. It only took flight once more, vanishing into the clouds.
Kaen turned away.
And behind him, unseen by all, a single white flower bloomed where the crow had perched.