The immense white stone walls of Arkania rose cutting through the morning sky. They were so tall that their projected shadow devoured the dusty path long before reaching the heavy gates of iron.
The moment they stepped into that shadow, Aria raised a closed fist and looked over her shoulder. Darian and Varkas stopped dead. Around them, merchant carts and riders passed toward the city, raising clouds of dust.
"In Puerto Vell we called too much attention," said Aria, lowering her voice to the minimum, making sure no one heard them. "If the Empire adds your four colors to a loose demon, there won't be a hole deep enough to hide us. So before crossing those gates, the rules are simple: zero demons, zero grimoires."
Darian frowned.
"Valerius is the Guild Master. Are we going to lie to his face?"
"We're going to omit to avoid unnecessary panic," she corrected him, maintaining absolute calm. "We'll say the dungeon mutated due to a mana imbalance and that we were attacked by a user of dark magic we couldn't identify."
Varkas crossed his arms. The leather armor creaked under the tension of his muscles.
"Aria is right, pup," the giant intervened with a rough voice. "I've seen what human armies do when fear dominates them. They attack blindly. They raze entire villages just for suspicion."
Darian clenched his fists. The image of that demon snapping his fingers in the cavern burned in his retina, but he released his breath slowly and nodded. They couldn't risk innocent people.
One hour later, silence was absolute in Valerius's office, in the central tower of the Guild.
The Master listened to the complete report, resting his elbows on his mahogany desk. When Aria finished describing the massive collapse of the cave, Valerius leaned back heavily in his chair.
"A dark mage capable of collapsing a submarine dungeon..." he murmured, rubbing his scar-covered chin. "This report is classified from this very second. You will not speak of this incident with anyone outside this room."
Darian took a step forward.
"Why hide it, Master? It's an enormous threat to the—"
Valerius struck the wood with his knuckles, producing a dry, sharp sound.
"Because if the Empire suspects there are cultists with that power operating under their noses, they won't send investigators. They'll send the Inquisitors of the White Flame. They'll purge Puerto Vell and burn the coast just to be sure." The Master lowered his voice, becoming more conspiratorial. "The Guild will track this individual in the shadows. We'll find him before the military tears a town to pieces out of simple paranoia. Keep your mouths shut."
They left the central building. The fresh city air received them, laden with smells of freshly baked bread and spices. Aria let out a long sigh, relaxing her shoulders.
"We're done with the bureaucracy," she said, adjusting her quiver. "Let's go find the scholar I told you about."
They entered the Scholars' District. The wide streets gave way to cobblestone alleys and dark stone buildings with asymmetrical roofs. They stopped before a slightly leaning tower, and Aria pushed the heavy wooden door.
The interior was a chaotic labyrinth. Bookshelves crammed with books reached the ceiling, and scrolls illuminated by static light spheres floated slowly. In the center, perched on a ladder, a man in a disheveled tunic wrote invisible equations in the air at a furious speed.
"...runic friction would melt the conduits unless the channel is an alternate flow!"
Aria crossed her arms and cleared her throat.
The mage jumped, throwing thick tomes into the void. He grabbed the railing and, when focusing his gaze on the door, his gaunt face lit up.
"Aria! My little petal!" he shouted, descending the steps three at a time.
He enveloped her in a hug that nearly suffocated her. At the same time, a snow ferret peeked from his pocket, jumped to Aria's shoulder, and began rubbing against her cheek, squeaking with joy.
Darian and Varkas exchanged a complicit glance. The young man couldn't resist. He puffed his chest and, thickening his voice as much as he could to imitate the mage's tone, exclaimed:
"Oh, my small and fragile petal!"
The giant caught the joke instantly. Making a ridiculous effort to sharpen his rough voice to reach a high, dramatic tone, he responded:
"Papa, let me go, please, you're suffocating me!"
Darian covered his mouth, trembling to not burst into laughter, while Varkas let out a booming laugh.
Aria turned red to her ears. Elias released her at once. His awkward attitude disappeared; he pushed his glasses up his nose and straightened, scanning the two strangers with a suddenly cold and protective gaze, taking a step forward as if about to cast a spell.
"And who are you and what do you want with my daughter?" he asked with hostility.
"Papa, enough. They're from my team," Aria interrupted, dying of embarrassment. "He's Darian, and the big one is Varkas."
The mention of "team" extinguished his protective instinct like a breath to a candle. "Ah, expedition companions? Come in, sit where you can," he said cheerfully, clearing chairs full of books.
He served hot tea. Once seated, Aria went straight to the point, explaining the resonance in the cave and the explosion of four colors in the Guild's sphere.
Elias set down his cup. His gaze became serious.
"Elemental magic is universal, but the vessels are not," he began to explain, pointing at them. "Humans channel neutral magic. Elves, nature. Dwarves forge, orcs empower their blood for war... each race has its own internal design. Besides, when an individual possesses more than one element, with adequate training they can channel them simultaneously to create variations. Mud, magma, storm, ice... The combinations depend completely on who uses them and their control capacity. But you..."
Elias leaned over the table, looking at Darian intensely.
"You have four. Your human anatomical node is a funnel designed for a single lane. When trying to use a simple Physical Reinforcement in your trainings, fire, earth, water, and air tried to exit at the same time. There was a massive bottleneck in your veins."
Darian was left breathless. He looked at his own hands, feeling a knot tightening his throat. Eight years. Eight long years believing he was a useless failure without talent, when in reality his body was containing a storm.
"They blocked themselves by pure pressure to not destroy you from within," he murmured, feeling a ton-weight slab disappear from his shoulders. They were sealed by their own power.
Varkas snorted, taking a drink from his tea.
"Like trying to pass a hundred enraged prisoners through a single narrow door," the giant grunted. "They jam and nobody gets out. Magic is a damn headache, pup. Steel is more honest."
"And the resonance clash with that demon broke that door," Aria deduced, taking an active role in the equation, her eyes narrowed. "The flow is now open. But if Darian doesn't control it, his own mana will tear him apart."
"Exactly," Elias agreed, giving her reason. "You have a wild torrent. The training starts now."
Elias took a white feather from his desk and held it out to Darian.
"Make this feather vibrate. Only with wind. Visualize the density of earth, the volatility of fire, and the fluidity of water, and repress them. Isolate the green thread."
Darian took the feather. The tension in the room was palpable. He closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and tried to open the node only for the green thread of wind.
His body's response was violent. The heavy density of earth and the aggression of fire pushed savagely against his concentration. A brutal cramp lanced through his forearm; he felt his tendons about to burst. He clenched his teeth, stifling a scream, and cut the flow completely.
He opened his eyes, covered in cold sweat and breathing with difficulty.
"Even if he manages to isolate one element perfectly," Aria intervened, looking at her companion's trembling arm, "a common steel blade won't withstand that pressure. It will melt in his hands mid-combat."
"You need to visit the forge immediately," Elias concluded.
Before leaving, the scholar accompanied them to the tower's back door, which opened to a small walled inner courtyard. In the center, a beautiful cherry tree dropped its pink petals upon the stone floor.
Aria stopped. Her posture of relentless leader crumbled for an instant.
"My mother is buried here," she whispered, with a vulnerability Darian had never seen in her.
She looked at the petals on the ground.
"Human medicine was incompatible with her elven physiology. A blood disease... she faded before us and, being so far from the Elven Kingdom, we couldn't do anything."
Darian felt a pinch in his chest. Now he understood the armor of coldness Aria used to protect herself. And he comprehended why Elias preferred to live locked among equations, fleeing from a world that had torn away his love.
They said goodbye in silence and walked toward the military district until finding "The Iron Anvil."
The infernal heat of the forge hit them upon entering. Before the anvil, Thorgar hammered a red-hot breastplate. Upon seeing them, the smith dropped the heavy hammer and a thunderous laugh competed with the crackling of the fire.
"Darian! Little Aria! And I see this time you finally bring a real warrior," Thorgar roared. He walked toward Varkas and gave him a slap on the back with prodigious force. "Hey, big man, the day you get tired of carrying that enormous sword, come find me. I'll forge you a weapon that will make mountains tremble."
Varkas let out a low grunt, nodding with a smile of pure respect.
Darian advanced toward the heat. He explained his need to channel pure magic without destroying his weapon. Thorgar's smile faded.
"Pure magic corrodes steel from within, lad," the smith explained, adopting a critical tone. "You need Resonant Core Crystal. It's the only material that absorbs extreme mana. It's found in the Eastern Canyons."
Thorgar leaned over the anvil, looking at them with unusual seriousness.
"But listen well. The merchants are fleeing that route. They speak of a colossal creature hunting near Amber Refuge. Whatever is there, it's destroying the zone. If you go for that crystal, you have no margin for error."
That night, they slept in real beds to recover their strength. The following morning, they crossed Arkania's eastern gates. The path toward the canyons extended beneath the dawn light.
Hours later, they made camp at the edge of the path, where the first trees of the forest began to appear. While Varkas and Aria slept, Darian remained awake beneath the moon.
He took out the feather. He closed his eyes. He visualized rock, water, and fire, pushing them back with pure force of will, and let the wind rise through his arm.
The feather trembled. Darian contained the other three.
The feather rose. One. Two. The feather spun.
The feather elevated, spinning impelled by a small hurricane that only existed in his hand. Three seconds.
His concentration wavered and the feather fell in his palm. His arm hurt horribly, but Darian smiled. A minuscule triumph, but the chaos was finally beginning to yield.
He stored the feather and leaned against a trunk. Just as he closed his eyes, the absolute silence of the forest was broken.
It wasn't a sound. It was a force.
The ground beneath his back vibrated. A dull, rhythmic, heavy heartbeat, coming from the east, toward Amber Refuge. Dust fell from the leaves of the trees.
Varkas opened his yellow eyes at once. Without a word, his hand closed over his sword's hilt. He looked at Darian and shook his head, his pupils dilated. The tremor struck the earth again, stronger this time, making even the camp's stones vibrate. Something immense, of a scale that defied nature itself, had just awakened.