Kael and Gorvath had absorbed a large number of Aether Crystals, enough that the cavern floor around them still shimmered with scattered fragments and powdered residue. The lingering energy hung in the air like heat after lightning, thick enough to prickle against the skin. Yet despite the flood of power they had forced into themselves, neither had crossed the threshold from Master Tier One to Tier Two.
Kael exhaled slowly, disappointment settling in his chest like stone. He could still feel the residue of Aether circulating through his channels—restless, incomplete, refusing to stabilise. It was close. Frustratingly close. Like reaching for a door handle only to find the door locked from the inside.
Gorvath looked equally displeased, though he hid it behind irritation rather than reflection. He crushed a crystal shard beneath his heel, the brittle snap echoing across the cavern.
Then movement stirred from the left tunnel. A shadow emerged through the dim blue glow of the cavern veins.
Mordek stepped into view. Ronan hung unconscious across his back.
Kael's thoughts emptied instantly. His body moved before reason caught up. "What happened?" He hurried toward them, boots scraping against uneven stone. "Is Ronan okay?"
The sight hit harder up close. Ronan's head lolled slightly against Mordek's shoulder, dark hair damp against his forehead, skin pale beneath the faint silver glow cast by the cavern walls. His breathing was shallow but steady.
Mordek lowered him carefully onto the stone floor, supporting his shoulders before easing him down. "He's alive," he said, though his voice lacked reassurance. Dust clung to the folds of his cloak, and faint tears marked the fabric near his sleeve.
Vexara stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "What happened in there?"
Mordek rolled one shoulder, loosening stiffness from his muscles before brushing dirt from his gloves. "Nothing worth dramatising. We encountered two hollowed spirits." He glanced briefly toward Ronan. "They're gone now."
His gaze shifted back to Kael. "But tell me something first. Was Ronan already injured before we entered this place?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Yes."
The memory surfaced immediately—the smell of burned flesh, the crackling seal, Ronan refusing to stop despite the damage.
"He burned his hand trying to destroy the seal binding those Doomscale Lizards." Kael crouched near Ronan, studying the faint tension still lingering in his face even in unconsciousness. "And there's something else."
Mordek remained silent.
Kael hesitated only briefly. "He told me he can't use Void Overdrive properly anymore. Every time he pushes it to full strength, it disrupts his Aether flow." His voice lowered. "Afterwards, he becomes weak for days."
The cavern quieted.
Mordek knelt beside Ronan and pressed a palm lightly against his chest. His eyes narrowed as he focused inward. For several breaths, he said nothing. Then he frowned. "The Aether pulse is unstable."
His hand remained still against Ronan's chest, fingers barely shifting as though tracing invisible currents beneath skin and bone. "It rises too sharply… then collapses." Mordek withdrew his hand slowly. "Like something inside him is fighting itself."
Kael swallowed. He had sensed it before, but never wanted to give shape to the thought.
Seeing Mordek confirm it made the truth heavier.
Ronan shifted faintly, a shallow breath escaping him. His brow twitched as though caught somewhere between sleep and pain.
The group settled around him in uneasy silence. Water dripped steadily from distant stalactites. The cavern carried the faint mineral scent of wet stone mixed with the lingering metallic tang of spent Aether.
After several minutes, Kael straightened. "We can't stay here much longer." His voice cut through the stillness. "We need to prepare for what comes next and leave this place."
An old leather-bound book materialised in Kael's hand from his storage ring. The cover was cracked with age, its edges frayed and darkened from wear. Strange markings ran along the spine, faded almost beyond recognition. "This came from Ronan's clone earlier," Kael said. "There's information inside about what lies ahead."
Before he could open it, movement flashed beside him. Gorvath lunged. The book disappeared from Kael's hands. Kael turned sharply. Gorvath stood several steps away, flipping through the pages with a grin stretched across his face.
"No need for you to lead everything," Gorvath said, eyes scanning rapidly over the text.
Kael's expression hardened. The cavern air grew tense. Ignoring him, Kael reached behind his back and drew out a sword. Metal slid free with a smooth, ringing whisper. The blade reflected the pale cavern light like liquid silver.
Its hilt was grey and matte, forged from a material that looked resistant to heat rather than decorative. Crimson patterns curled along the guard, shaped like flowing flame. Thin wisps of steam drifted lazily from the blade's surface, vanishing into the cold air. Even unmoving, it felt alive.
Vexara's eyes widened slightly.
Kael held it horizontally. "According to the records," he said, "this is an ancient artefact called Enmu. Flame Mist." Steam curled around his fingers. "They attempted to bond with it before. Blood was offered, but the artefact never responded." He looked toward the blade. "Later, it was used to imprison the mother and son."
Vexara stepped closer, gaze fixed on the weapon.n"Isn't blood how artefacts recognise a master?"
"Usually," Kael answered. "That's the common method."
"But not always," Mordek said quietly. He rose to his feet, eyes lingering on the blade. "Some artefacts are older than conventional binding rituals. Blood alone isn't enough." His voice deepened slightly. "They recognise the wielder's Inner World. The shape of their soul."
Gorvath finally looked up from the book. His gaze settled greedily on the sword. "How about I try?" The eagerness in his voice was impossible to miss.
Mordek's expression sharpened instantly. "Oh, no." His tone hardened. "Absolutely not."
Gorvath frowned.
Mordek stepped forward slightly. "We are guests within this kingdom." His gaze locked onto Gorvath's. "This territory belongs to the Viridion. The last thing we need is to provoke conflict because you acted on impulse."
Gorvath clicked his tongue and looked away, annoyance visible in the tightening of his jaw. The silence lingered.
Then Mordek turned toward Kael. "You should try."
Kael's grip tightened slightly around the hilt. For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes lowered to the blade. Steam brushed lightly against his fingers. Something about the weapon felt watchful. Waiting. He inhaled slowly. "Alright."
He shifted the sword upright. Using a small dagger, he pricked the tip of his finger. A bead of blood formed instantly. The crimson drop slid downward and landed against the steel. For a brief second, it remained there. Then the blade absorbed it. The blood vanished without a trace. Everyone stared. The cavern seemed to hold its breath. Nothing happened. No glow. No tremor. No pulse of Aether. Only silence.
Gorvath let out a quiet snort. "Figures."
Kael kept holding the sword. His eyes remained fixed on the metal.
A strange disappointment settled beneath his ribs—not sharp, but quiet. Like realising a door had never truly been meant to open. The steam drifted upward in slow spirals. Unchanged.
Far above the depths of the cavern, near the entrance to the Voidedge Mine, evening winds swept across the rocky path. Dust drifted through the fading light.
Sylphie stood near the gate with Darius and Garrick, their silhouettes stretched long against the stone ground by the setting sun. None of them strayed far from the entrance. Every few moments, one of them glanced toward the dark opening leading underground.
Sylphie folded her arms tightly against herself. Too much time had passed. The sky deepened into shades of amber and violet. Footsteps approached from behind. Two figures emerged along the path. Mr. Alaric and Mr. Valmire.
Their cloaks shifted in the evening breeze as they approached, carrying the quiet authority of men accustomed to command. Mr. Alaric stopped several paces away. His sharp gaze moved across the three students. "Good evening," he said. "What are you doing here?"
The trio straightened immediately. Sylphie bowed first. "Good evening, sir." Her voice remained respectful, though tension lingered beneath it.
"We came for the material collection mission. Ronan and Kael entered the mine with us." She glanced briefly toward the entrance. "But they became trapped inside the teleportation circle."
Mr. Alaric's expression sharpened. "Trapped?"
Sylphie nodded. "They told us to wait." She hesitated briefly. "If they don't return by tomorrow evening, we planned to go after them."
Mr. Alaric studied her face carefully. "Did anyone else enter the mine after you?"
"No, sir."The answer came quickly. "No one."
Mr. Valmire exchanged a glance with Mr. Alaric. Something unspoken passed between them.
Mr. Alaric folded his arms. "Then we'll remain here."
Sylphie blinked. "If they do not return by tomorrow," he continued, "we will join the search ourselves."
Relief softened the tension in her shoulders. "Thank you, sir."
The group settled near the mine entrance as darkness slowly gathered across the mountainside. The hum of the teleportation circle continued endlessly. Wind moved through the rocks in long, hollow breaths. No one spoke much after that. They waited. And beneath the quiet stillness of evening, unease lingered like distant thunder waiting beyond the horizon.