Clerinto Bastion, later that same day
Tavian's legs barely held as the Paladins guided him from the Hall of Weighing. His ribs ached, and the pressure from the mirror still clung to his chest like a fist half-closing. Behind him, the obsidian surface had gone dark, but its echo remained somewhere in his breath.
They moved through the inner halls without a word. Stone walls shimmered faintly with embedded Pulse threads. Occasionally, a beast watched from a ledge or hallway arch, always quiet, always still. Tavian tried not to meet their eyes.
A few corridors later, a girl waited beneath a large glowing arch. She wore simple layers, apprentice robes and her dark braids were tied back. At her feet sat a wide, flat creature shaped like a stone loaf with stubby legs and rough fur that sparkled with embedded flecks of quartz.
"You're Tavian," she said. Her voice was casual but not unkind.
He nodded. His throat was too dry for speech.
"I'm Nyx. This is Dustpaw." She motioned to the beast, who sniffed the air, snorted once, and then licked its own paw with a gravelly tongue.
The Paladins gave her a short gesture, then turned and walked away without explanation.
"I'll show you where you're sleeping," Nyx said. "Let's get you to a bed before you collapse."
Tavian followed her without complaint. His bondmark burned low beneath the skin of his wrist, quiet but tender. Raijara still hadn't spoken. He couldn't tell if she was recovering or just refusing to answer.
They passed under a heavy stone arch, this one less ornate. The walls here held fewer glowing lines and more bare stone. The sound changed too, less echo, more warmth. Tavian had not realized his shoulders had begun to drop in the previous corridors.
The dormitory door opened without a sound. Inside, it was half-lit with pulsing glowthreads embedded in the upper corners. Three beds, all low to the floor. One was empty. The others held their occupants already.
A girl sat cross-legged on one bunk, eyes closed, hands folded in her lap. A cat-like beast with feathers instead of fur was curled around her shoulders, its tail twitching now and then in small loops.
The other resident was less peaceful. He sat cleaning a scrollblade at the foot of his bed. His beast hung above him, clinging to the wall, a large moth with wings of oil-slick black and green, its antennae twitching.
The boy looked up when Tavian entered.
Jun tilted his head slightly, then gave a thin smile. "So this is the storm that is tearing through the land."
Tavian stayed near the doorway. "Tavian."
"Right. The one who cracked the Veil and flared a Highborn bond like it was a torch at a campfire." Jun leaned back on his bunk, scrollblade resting across his knees. "They say Kaltrava understands the Pulse better than any nation, yet looks like you barely understand a thing."
"I didn't ask for it," Tavian muttered.
Jun chuckled. "No one asks. But they usually learn what it is before dragging it into battle."
Tavian took a step further into the room. His jaw tightened. "I survived."
"Barely," Jun said. "And you nearly broke the grove doing it. You're lucky your beast didn't eat you from the inside out."
Nyx stepped into the doorway, brows furrowed. "Jun."
He waved her off, rising to his feet. His scrollblade clicked shut, the thin inscription-strip folding into the hilt.
"You even know what a glyph is?" Jun asked Tavian directly.
"Symbols. Ith, the original language of the world and beasts," Tavian answered.
Jun scoffed. "No. Glyphs are conduits. Carved forms that channel and stabilize Pulse. You don't just scribble runes and throw lightning. They have to match your element, your intention, and your training. If your glyph isn't shaped to your Pulse type, it explodes. Or fizzles. Or in your case, tears a hole in the Veil."
"I didn't tear the Veil," Tavian snapped. "It was already-"
"You pulled on something you couldn't name. That's worse," Jun said. "Let me guess. You've never etched a glyph in your life. Haven't even mastered the basic gifts your bond has given you? Is your partner absent right now because you can't control either of your pulse types fully? Do you even know what I'm talking about? "
Tavian felt heat in his chest. "You think I'm ignorant?"
"I think you're dangerous," Jun said.
Nyx stepped between them. "That's enough."
Jun didn't budge. "Fine. Tavian, name five Pulse types."
Tavian blinked. "Storm. Veil. Ember. Hollow. Verdant."
Jun smirked. "You missed Echo. Ice. Stone. Ash. Current. Metal. Bone. And Flux. And those are just the basic thirteen pulses."
"That's more than five," Tavian said.
Jun raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. And each one requires its own logic, it's own understanding. Its own flow. You think having a Phoenix makes you an expert? You're a raw flame in a hall full of paper."
Nyx's beast, Dustpaw, stood up and gave a long, rattling yawn. It padded between them and flopped heavily at Tavian's feet, sending up a little puff of grit.
"He's bonded," Nyx said, "not blind. He'll learn."
Jun snorted and turned back to his bunk. "Let's hope he learns before someone else pays the price. To be connected so closely to Kuros and not be able to do a thing. What a waste."
The moth on his wall gave a low, warbling sound, then curled its wings tighter.
Tavian sat down on the edge of his bunk, his body still sore from the day. His bondmark itched with a slow pulse, but Raijara remained quiet. Not absent. Not asleep. Just listening.
Dustpaw leaned against his legs with surprising weight.
"You okay?" Nyx asked.
"I don't know what I'm doing," Tavian admitted.
"That makes two of us most days," she said. "But you're here. And that means you've got a chance."
He nodded.
She turned to leave, but paused at the doorway.
"Glyphs are just language. Pulse is a kind of voice or tone. You'll get better at speaking, especially your own and once your bond more beasts. Everyone starts clumsy."
After she was gone, Tavian lay back and stared at the ceiling. The air inside the Bastion was still, but the weight of expectation hung over him like a second skin.
His eyes drifted closed, and he let himself sink.
Outside, the Bastion lights dimmed. In the courtyard below, two Paladins passed without speaking, followed by a beast that shimmered like fog caught in a net of glass.
Tomorrow, training would begin.
But tonight, Tavian dreamed of symbols he couldn't yet draw, and a storm that hadn't stopped moving since the day it chose him.