The academy buzzed with rumors.
From the vaulted classrooms to the quiet meditation chambers, and even across the shaded courtyards where the glyph trees hummed with low, inscribed vibrations, Elias's absence had become more than mere gossip—it had become legend.
"He's training in secret to break into Rank Two already."
"No, no. I heard he offended one of the elders and was confined."
"You're both wrong. He's hunting some ancient relic on the outskirts. My cousin saw him leaving through the eastern gate under a spell of concealment."
Most students didn't know what to believe. But that never stopped them from talking.
In the open-air dining pavilion, tables were full of fresh-faced students dressed in academy robes—each robe subtly etched with different colors and stitching based on the student's class, affiliation, or engraving type.
A small group sat at one corner, deep in conversation.
"You've noticed how the inscriptions lining the outer walls have been flickering?" asked a girl with coal-black braids and a serpentine rune around her throat.
"Yeah, Elder Haran said it's just part of the usual maintenance cycle," replied a freckled boy beside her, poking at his levitating crystal tray of food. "But he was clearly tense. Something's up."
"It's Elias," said another confidently. "He triggered something forbidden. Just wait—we'll see him dragged back in chains."
Others weren't so sure.
"He's not like the rest of us," said a boy with a monocle engraved with a time-delay sigil. "He didn't just pass the first trial. He shattered the standards. It's more likely he's already on a higher path."
Meanwhile, in the third-tier courtyard, beneath a canopy of flowering flamevine trees, Seraphina stood at the edge of the reflection pool, her silver hair catching soft sunlight. She traced her fingers across the water, watching the ripples stretch toward the engraved phoenix tiles at the edge.
Veyran approached quietly. He didn't speak, only glanced at the water as well.
"Have you heard anything?" she asked without looking at him.
He shook his head.
"He's been gone too long."
"He's Elias. People like him don't move without reason."
Seraphina turned toward him, her gaze calm but sharp. "Still. There are rules here. And vanishing for days isn't something to overlook. If he thinks he's above that…"
Veyran raised a brow. "Are you worried for him? Or worried about him?"
Seraphina didn't answer immediately.
Then she looked away. "He makes things complicated."
Across the northern plaza, Ryn sat on the low edge of a sundial platform carved with celestial engravings. A few students whispered nearby, but he paid them no mind.
"He just disappeared. Who does that after Main Engraving selection ?"
"Maybe he couldn't handle the pressure."
"Maybe that scroll he was staring at cursed him."
Ryn's fingers brushed the scroll tucked beneath his robes—the Abyssal Coil still dormant. But his thoughts were elsewhere.
Something about Elias's silence… it didn't feel accidental. Nor did it feel like arrogance. It felt like purpose.
A shadow passed over the courtyard.
Ryn looked up—just as Elias stepped back onto academy grounds.
Clad in the same robe, now dirtied by wind and ash, Elias walked with unhurried steps. His expression was unreadable, golden eyes as calm as still water.
Conversations froze mid-sentence. Students turned. Eyes followed.
But Elias didn't look at any of them.
He passed through like a ghost—silent, distant, unreachable.
Only Seraphina and Ryn watched him not out of curiosity… but understanding.
Because something had changed.
In a high tower overlooking the training fields, Elder Rahim stood at a crystalline window, hands clasped behind his back.
Behind him, a younger instructor waited quietly.
"Should we question him?" the instructor asked.
Rahim's gaze didn't shift.
"No. Let him be. Destiny carves its path through those it favors—and punishes."
He paused.
"But watch the others. The closer one stands to the fire, the easier it is to burn."
That evening, beneath a sky filled with hovering glyph lanterns and shimmering cloud runes, the academy murmured not with lessons—but with uncertainty.
Elias had returned.
And with him, the tide of fate began to shift.
* * * * * *
The night was heavy, blanketing the academy in a silence broken only by the rustling of wind through distant trees. A silver moon hung high, casting pale light over the dormitory corridors. Within one of the upper rooms—modest, clean, and meticulously arranged—Elias sat alone, cross-legged atop a straw mat, his eyes closed, aura calm.
The incense on the corner brazier burned low, its fragrant smoke curling like ghostly serpents toward the ceiling. His spiritual sea had grown more stable, the tides within steadier than before—but he knew true advancement was far away. Not without risk. Not without struggle.
A soft knock interrupted the stillness.
He opened his eyes.
Another knock, hesitant this time. Then a pause. Then, quietly:
"Elias? Are you… awake?"
A girl's voice. Soft, tentative.
Elias rose wordlessly and stepped to the door. When he opened it, the hallway's lamplight revealed a young woman standing alone. Her long auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders like velvet, and her eyes were bright, though she tried to look down, pretending modesty.
She wore the academy's standard outer robe, but her inner garments were fitted—too fitted. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, her fingers clutching the edge of her sleeve.
"I—I hope I'm not bothering you," she said. "I was… I had a few questions about Engraving practice. I didn't know who else to ask."
Elias didn't speak. His gaze swept over her features, the subtle details—her parted lips, her faintly trembling eyelashes, the nervous way she tucked her hair behind her ear. The poorly concealed perfume. The uncertainty. The hope.
He knew this expression well.
"Come in," he said evenly, stepping aside.