Velarion Academy – Twilight Courtyard
The courtyard glowed with the golden remnants of daylight. Students filtered through the ornate arches, laughter and chatter carried on the breeze. Marble walkways shimmered with enchantments designed to gather light, casting soft illumination even after dusk.
Alaric leaned against a vine-wrapped column, arms crossed, eyes scanning the skyline. Behind him, Lysandra sat on the edge of the fountain, fingers tracing patterns in the water. Neither spoke, yet the silence felt whole, not empty.
"You're thinking again," she murmured, not looking at him.
"I'm always thinking."
"That's the problem."
Their eyes met briefly—just long enough to recognize the pull, that unspoken thread between them neither dared acknowledge. She looked away first, pretending interest in a passing Sky Wyrm overhead.
> [System Notice: Bond Stability with Subject 'Lysandra Noxveil'—Increasing. Emotional Sync: 12.3% → 15.1%]
Alaric dismissed the message. The system had begun noting these moments more often, but he couldn't afford to lose focus. Not now.
---
Eastern Bastion – Lecture Hall Theta
Today's guest lecture wasn't by a professor. It was by Archseer Vharos, one of the few remaining Timewardens—mages who once stood between realms during the Siege of the Sixth Gate.
Vharos was tall and thin, his skin wrinkled like the folds of ancient maps, but his presence silenced the hall. Behind him hovered a strange device—part chronometer, part memory crystal—called a Chronovault.
He tapped his staff once. The lights dimmed.
"In your precious lives, you consider time as linear," he began. "But those who've touched the Depth Realms… know better."
Students exchanged looks. Even Elric leaned forward, intrigued.
Vharos's eyes swept the crowd, resting briefly on Alaric. "Some of you are fixed to this world. Others are echoes. And a few… are fractures."
Alaric felt a chill, not from cold, but recognition. The word echo rang too close to the title he'd received during the ruins mission.
Lysandra noticed his stillness but said nothing. She felt it too—something in the air had twisted.
> [System Alert: External magical trace detected. Analyzing…] [Warning: You are being watched.]
---
Academy Grounds – Later That Night
Alaric walked alone through the Obsidian Library Annex, one of the less-traveled wings. It was here he stumbled upon her.
A girl with silver hair, levitating multiple tomes at once. Her aura shimmered with violet—aetheric flux. She looked up, eyes glowing faintly.
"You're the anomaly," she said flatly.
"I've been called worse."
She floated down, landing softly. "I'm Naevia Caelthorn. Keeper of Records. Second seat in Arc Division."
He raised an eyebrow. "Keeper, not a student?"
She smiled faintly. "Knowledge doesn't discriminate by age. Nor does power."
> [New Character Logged: Naevia Caelthorn – Intelligence Type | Passive Skill 'Mind Echo']
"Why are you really here?" she asked, stepping closer. "There's no way someone like you slipped through without reason."
"I enrolled," he said casually. "Same as you."
She tilted her head, as if trying to peel back his skull with thought alone. Then, finally, she smirked.
"Let's play a game, Alaric Veyne. You keep your secrets. I'll keep mine. But don't blink. You might miss something important."
---
The Capital – Throne of Radiant Law (Elsewhere)
Far from Velarion Academy, in the capital Sanctra, the Celestial Crown Council convened under urgent summons.
The High Seer—a masked woman known only as Mother Veil—stood in silence as magical scripts floated in the air. They showed fluctuating power patterns from Velarion. Unknown. Uncontrolled. Rooted in a bloodline that should not exist.
One of the Archons, armored in celestial plate, leaned forward. "Do we finally act?"
Mother Veil whispered, "Not yet. But we watch. The fracture is widening."
---
Back at the Academy – Moonlight Training Fields
Lysandra stood in the middle of a frost-encased platform, blades orbiting her in a perfect circle. Her breath misted with every exhale.
Alaric approached slowly. "Practicing or preparing for war?"
"Both."
He stepped onto the platform, frost crunching underfoot. "You want to spar?"
She didn't answer. But her blades stilled.
Their duel was silent. No trash talk. No flourish.
Void Ice met shadow-thread. Her elegance collided with his unpredictability.
Every time she struck, he evaded just close enough to make it look accidental. Every time he countered, she dodged with precision that made the system blink.
> [Combat Sync Detected: Dual Flow Mode | Lysandra Noxveil] [Temporary Buff: Grace of the Dual Thread – Increased Reaction and Movement Speed while near bonded target]
After several minutes, their weapons stopped—hovering inches from each other's throats.
Then they both smiled.
It wasn't victory. It wasn't flirtation.
It was familiarity.
Something shared before names had meaning.
"I had a dream," she said suddenly. "Before I came here."
"Yeah?"
"A shadow walked beside me in white snow. It didn't speak. But it never left."
He stared at her.
"I didn't realize until now… the shadow wasn't threatening. It was mine."
> [Bond Level with Lysandra: 18.7% → 23.2%] [Hidden Trait Discovered – Fated Entanglement (Dormant)]
He offered his hand to help her off the ice.
She didn't take it.
But she didn't look away either.
---
Meanwhile – Underground
The cult moved again.
They called themselves the Remnants of the Rift, and they had waited centuries for signs. Their seer-child, blind and covered in binding runes, spoke for the first time in weeks.
"He walks among threads. Not chosen by gods, but torn from story."
Their leader nodded.
"We do not need to reach him. The world will push him toward us."
They turned toward a bound prisoner, her body carved with binding glyphs.
"Release the prototype. Let's see how his fate reacts to broken echoes."
---
Closing Scene – Alaric's Dorm
The system panel pulsed faintly. Not with a warning—but a question.
> [Would you like to name this path you've created?] [Your destiny is now untethered.]
He thought for a long time, then typed two words.
> [Thornebound Rewritten]
The system paused.
Then, it laughed.
> [Acknowledged.]
Outside, the winds shifted, and an unseen pressure stirred above the academy.
The next page had begun.
-