Three days had passed since the shadow beast attacked.
Auron sat by the forge, staring at the scorched leather gloves in his hands. His father had grown quiet. The villagers whispered more than before. Some looked at Auron with awe — others with fear.
Only Lyra still treated him the same.
That morning, as dew still clung to the grass, a figure in black and silver descended the mountain path.
She wore a cloak woven with thunder-thread, and her boots left no mark on the ground. A long crystal blade rested at her hip, glowing with stormlight.
She stopped in front of Toren's forge and looked directly at Auron.
"You've awakened it," she said.
Toren stood protectively between her and his son. "Who are you?"
"I am Serenya. Swordmage of the Ninth Circle. I've come on behalf of Stormblade Academy."
At the word Stormblade, even the wind seemed to pause.
"I sensed a flare of ancient lightning," she continued, "strong enough to be felt from the northern towers. The blade has begun to call. That means its wielder has returned."
She stepped closer to Auron. "You."
Auron's heart pounded.
Toren clenched his fists. "He's just a boy."
"No," Serenya said. "He's a blade reborn."
She turned to Auron. "If you stay, your power will consume this village. That creature in the valley was only the beginning. Others will come — drawn to your light."
Lyra spoke up. "Then take me too. I'm not leaving him."
Serenya raised an eyebrow but didn't object. "If your magic speaks for you, the Academy will listen."
Toren stood still, eyes heavy. Then he walked over to his son and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You've always been more than this forge could hold," he whispered. "Go. But never forget who you are."
Auron looked to his mother, who stood silently nearby, holding back tears.
"Protect those who can't protect themselves," she said. "And when the storm calls… don't be afraid to answer."
That afternoon, Auron and Lyra left the village.
Behind them, the forge fire dimmed.
Ahead, a new world opened.