Sunday morning arrived with a quiet heaviness. The academy felt different today—not louder, not busier, just… expectant. Like the buildings themselves knew tomorrow at dawn the first-years would leave, and some might not come back the same.
I woke early, the basement room still dim, the mana-lamp casting long shadows across the stone. Nyx was on my chest again—I'd pulled her from the ring sometime in the night like always, needing the weight, the warmth. The egg felt heavier today, its obsidian surface warm against my skin, violet and blue veins pulsing in slow, deliberate rhythm. The crying was soft, almost thoughtful—rising every few minutes like a question she already knew the answer to.
I sat up, cot creaking. The book lay on the desk, closed. The line from a few nights ago still burned in my mind:
"The gaze opens the rift. The rift opens the way."
I really think i opened something, and i don't think it's something good.
The thought hadn't left me. It sat in my gut like a stone.
I placed Nyx back in the ring. The pulses continued—steady, watchful—but the crying shifted again, faint and uneasy.
Nyx.. i really hope we will be okay on that trip..
I said looking at the ring
I dressed in silence—uniform, cloak, Celestite Fang at my belt. The scars pulled, but the ache was familiar now. The cold in my mana felt sharper, but controlled.
I headed to the training hall.
Elara and Lyra were already there—our circle, our space. Elara stood with arms crossed. Lyra was stretching, but her usual grin was softer today.
Elara noticed me first. "You're early."
Lyra turned. "And you look like you didn't sleep."
I gave a small smile. "Not much."
We started light—mana circulation, no pushing. Elara guided my flow with quiet corrections. Lyra sent gentle green orbs, testing reflexes without force.
I blocked. Parried. Breathed.
Afterward, we sat on the floor—no rush today.
Lyra broke the silence. "Tomorrow you're gone. A whole week."
I stared at the floor. "A week in the Fractured Ruins. Alone. Without you two."
Lyra bumped my shoulder. "You'll have Riven and Lena. They'll keep you sane."
Elara's hand rested on my arm. "You're stronger than you think. But if anything feels wrong—any rift echo, any cold prickle—find a way to signal us. We'll come."
I nodded, throat tight. "I will."
Lyra grinned, trying to lighten it. "Then we stock you up. Let's go to Lunareth. Supplies. Gear. Maybe a new trick. Last chance before you're off playing explorer."
Elara raised an eyebrow. "You want to go shopping?"
Lyra shrugged. "Why not? He needs gear. And we need one last day together."
I looked at them. "Yeah. Let's go."
The three of us left the academy—slipping through the side gate like before. The path to Lunareth was familiar now, the red Aschenmoon glow already tinting the sky even though it was morning.
The night markets were quieter in daylight—stalls half-closed, vendors sleepy. But some were open. The air still smelled of incense, herbs, and something darker.
We wandered.
Lyra dragged me to a potion stall—Mira's influence showing. "Healing draughts. Mana restoratives. Take them."
I bought a few vials—small, glowing blue.
Elara led us to a rune stall—protection glyphs, minor wards. "For the ruins. Just in case."
I bought a small stack—simple, but strong.
Then Lyra spotted it—a small stall tucked in an alley, dusty manuals, faded covers.
She grinned. "Jackpot."
I scanned them—basic strikes, parries, footwork.
Then one caught my eye.
A slim, dark-gray booklet. Title in faint silver: [Starfall Strike] (B-Rank)
I picked it up.
The old vendor—not the same hooded man—grunted. "Good eye. Dagger skill. Moonlight-infused slashes. Starlight trails. Cuts deeper under night. C-Rank base, B-Rank with practice."
I opened it. Diagrams of arcs, intent flow, starlight mana channeling.
"Price?"
"Forty Silberkronen."
I laughed dryly as I paid—rest budget dropping to 122.
Elara put her hand on my head and said, "Don't worry, when you are back from your trip, we will do some quests and earn a few coins—otherwise you end up broke."
Lyra whistled. "That's right—but now you look even more badass."
Elara's voice was soft. "Be careful with new skills. Test them slowly."
We left Lunareth—bags heavier, hearts lighter.
Back at the academy, we spent the afternoon in the study—talking, laughing, pretending tomorrow wasn't coming.
Lyra: "You'll be fine. You're our glitch. Nothing can touch you."
Elara: "And when you get back… we'll celebrate. Properly."
I smiled. "Deal."
Evening came.
They walked me to the basement stairs.
Lyra hugged me—fierce. "Don't die. Or I'll kill you."
Elara's hand rested on my cheek—gentle. "Come back to us."
I nodded. "I will."
They left—footsteps fading.
I reached my room. Sat on the cot.
Pulled Nyx free.
The egg pulsed—warm, rhythmic.
The crying was faint, content.
I lay back.
The book lay on the desk.
I opened it.
A new line appeared—faint, fresh:
"The ruins call. The rift answers."
Nyx's pulse quickened—cry shifting, almost like a warning—like last time.
Nyx.. i have a really bad feeling about this whole thing—a really bad feeling.
Meanwhile—deep inside the Abyss, far beyond the rifts that scarred Elyndria.
A tiny rift had opened days ago—no wider than a crack in glass, leaking faint violet light that should not exist here. No one else had seen it. No watcher. No mortal. No other lord. Only It had noticed.
It had watched. Waited. Tasted its edges.
Now it moved.
A sliver of his essence—small, almost imperceptible—slipped through.
The rift snapped shut behind him—silent, seamless, leaving no trace.
It landed in Elyndria.
Somewhere old. Somewhere broken.
Ancient ruins—cracked stone towers half-swallowed by earth, rune-carved walls worn smooth by centuries, faint violet light bleeding from fractures in the ground. The air here was thin, cold, heavy with the echo of rifts long sealed. No one was near. No footsteps. No breath but his own—slow, deliberate, tasting the world he had not walked in eons.
It tilted his head.
The violet light flickered—weak, hesitant, like a candle held too close to the dark.
A voice—not sound, but a vibration in the stone—whispered to the ruins:
Here i am
The ground trembled—just once, just slightly.
Something had arrived.
And it smiled.