Astren did not recover easily.
Even after the group had left, the village remained under a strange, lingering shadow. Trade slowed to a trickle. Travelers avoided the roads leading into the valley. Messengers from the capital passed by without stopping, their eyes fixed forward and hands never far from their weapons. The once-warm community now carried an undercurrent of fear and uncertainty. People spoke in hushed tones about the boy born under the eclipse and his friend who had begun walking a darker path.
Stellan felt the distance from his home like a physical wound. Every night, as the group camped in ruins or hidden glades, he dreamed of his mother's garden, his father's steady hands, and the simple life he had left behind. The pull from the Black Hole had grown stronger with distance, but so had the ache of separation.
One evening, as they rested beside a quiet stream under a canopy of ancient trees, Stellan sat apart from the others, staring into the flowing water. Lyra approached quietly and sat beside him, offering a small piece of bread she had saved.
"You've been quiet today," she said gently.
Stellan took the bread but didn't eat. "I keep wondering if they're safe. If leaving was the right choice."
Lyra leaned her head against his shoulder. "You protected them by leaving. The Saints, the Wraiths, Nyxara… they would have come for the whole village if you had stayed."
The Seeker, who had been reinforcing wards around their camp, joined them. "Guilt is natural, but it can also be a chain. You are no longer just a boy from Astren. You are becoming something the world has not seen in millennia. Standing still would only invite greater destruction."
Stellan looked at the Seeker. "And Ren? Is there still a chance to reach him?"
The Seeker's expression was heavy. "His path has diverged too far. The shadow he embraced feeds on envy. Trying to pull him back now may only accelerate his descent."
Ren, as always, kept his distance.
He had found a secluded spot further upstream where he could train without being watched. The shadow power had become a constant companion, responding to his every thought with eager obedience. He struck the air repeatedly, tearing small rifts that revealed glimpses of chaotic realms filled with raw, untamed energy.
Each successful tear made him stronger. Each one also deepened the bitterness in his heart.
Stellan gets guidance. Protection. Lyra's loyalty. I get whispers from the dark and the cold satisfaction of proving I don't need anyone.
Corvax appeared beside him, his form more solid now. "You are learning quickly. Most who touch this power are consumed by it. You are shaping it instead."
Ren wiped sweat from his face. "It still isn't enough. He keeps pulling ahead."
"Then stop following his light," Corvax replied. "Become the darkness that swallows it."
Ren closed his eyes. The jealousy had crystallized into cold purpose. He no longer wanted to stand beside Stellan. He wanted to surpass him. To break the prophecy that had favored his friend so easily.
He plunged his hand into one of the rifts he had created. Power — darker and more volatile — surged into him. When he pulled back, faint black veins pulsed beneath his skin for several moments before fading.
The price of power was becoming clearer. But Ren was willing to pay it.
The group continued their journey through increasingly wild lands. They passed through neutral territories where factions watched them from afar but did not interfere. The Concord of Thresholds sent observers who studied them from a distance. The Church sent scouts who never got close enough to strike.
One afternoon, as they crossed a wide meadow dotted with glowing wildflowers, another tremor shook the land. This one was stronger than before.
Stellan dropped to one knee as the world warped around him. A new Rift began forming directly in front of the group — larger and more unstable than any they had seen.
The Seeker moved quickly, creating emergency wards. "Stay back! This one is being forced open from the other side!"
Lyra stood protectively in front of Stellan. Her own power flickered faintly around her — a soft violet light that seemed to stabilize the air.
From the Rift emerged not a single creature, but a swarm of smaller shadow entities — lesser servants of Nyxara, drawn by the scent of two awakening Sovereigns.
The battle was fierce but contained. The Seeker's golden blade flashed with precision. Lyra's protective barriers held the swarm at bay. Stellan unleashed controlled bursts of twilight energy that disintegrated several creatures at once. Ren, fighting on the edge of the group, tore into the shadows with raw, violent power, his jealousy fueling strikes that were more destructive than necessary.
When the last creature fell, the group stood breathing heavily among the glowing wildflowers, now stained with dark residue.
Ren looked at Stellan, who had protected them all with his power, and felt the fracture inside him widen further.
That night, around the fire, the Seeker made a difficult decision.
"We must split up temporarily," he announced. "I will seek allies and information about the deeper layers. You three need to stay hidden and continue developing your abilities. We will meet again at the Spire of Veils in three weeks."
Stellan didn't like the idea of separating, but he understood the necessity. Lyra agreed to stay with him. Ren, predictably, chose to go his own way.
As the Seeker vanished into the night to begin his own journey, the three young ascendants stood at a crossroads — both literal and figurative.
Stellan looked at Ren one last time. "Be careful."
Ren's smile was sharp and cold. "You too, Sovereign."
He turned and walked into the darkness alone, his shadow stretching long behind him.
Stellan watched him go, heart heavy with sorrow and quiet dread.
The price of standing still had become too great.
Movement — and the painful choices that came with it — was now their only option.