The fire in the manor's study had burned low.
The only light came from a single oil lamp, flickering against the tall arched window. Outside, the sky was navy blue, brushed with faint stars.
Cale was asleep.
His breathing was steady in the guest room down the hall.
In the study, three figures remained awake.
Aleric sat in the high-backed chair near the hearth, a glass of dark wine untouched in his hand. Mira perched silently near the mantle. Emis lounged along the windowsill, tail flicking lazily but eyes sharp.
None of them spoke at first.
Then Mira broke the silence.
"He's learning too quickly."
Aleric glanced at her. "Explain."
"Containment in two days. Flow in one. Most Veyrathi initiates spend months just stabilizing their mark."
Her feathers ruffled slightly.
"He doesn't hesitate,"she added. "Even when it hurts. He throws himself in headfirst."
Emis stretched his limbs with a low purr. "That's because he's mine."
Mira scoffed.
"I don't bond with children," Emis continued smugly, "unless they show promise. This one? He burns with it. You should've seen the way he held on in that forest. Even half-dead, he refused to let go."
"He's emotional," Mira muttered.
"He's alive,"Emis countered. "And clever. He listens."
Aleric finally spoke, voice low.
"At the rate he's growing… I fear I may not be able to contain him much longer."
That made both Yvelari fall silent.
Aleric stared into the fire, its glow dancing in his crimson eyes.
"He's not just compatible. He's instinctive. His body adapts, his will anchors. He learns by doing, not memorizing."
He sipped the wine, then set the glass aside untouched.
"Maybe we're witnessing the rise of a rare prodigy. Or maybe…"
He didn't finish.
Emis's tone lost its usual sharpness. "Or maybe he was born too late."
Mira nodded once. "The old wars would've wanted him."
Aleric leaned back, gaze distant.
"But the next war might need him."
Silence returned.
But somewhere down the hall, Cale stirred in his sleep—unaware of the quiet storm gathering behind every lesson, every step, every moment.
________________
The morning light filtered through the training hall's upper windows, casting long gold shafts across the floor. Breakfast had come and gone, and Cale felt steady — balanced.
Today, Aleric had told him, they would begin Oculen practice.
He stood in the center of the hall, Emis at his side, tail flicking lazily. Mira watched from the beam above. Aleric moved toward a wooden stand, unrolling a scroll across a narrow table.
Just as Cale was about to ask what the first exercise was, Emis spoke.
His tone, unusually, was flat.
"Before we start,"he said, "there's something you need to understand."
Cale blinked. "What is it?"
Emis jumped onto a nearby stool, eyes locked on his.
"You must never use your sight… on yourself."
The air in the hall changed.
Mira went completely still.
Aleric didn't turn — but his hand paused halfway through unrolling the scroll.
Cale frowned. "Why would I—"
"Just don't. Ever,"Emis said."No glimpses. No questions. Not even a peek at what happens tomorrow. The moment you try to use your Oculen's gift on your own thread…"
His voice trailed off.
"…what happens?" Cale asked, quieter now.
Mira answered.
"You unravel."
Cale turned toward her.
"Your bond will recoil. Your flow will collapse inward. Some go blind. Some go mad. Others…"
She didn't finish.
Emis's tail twitched.
"It's the one law every Yvelin agrees on," he said. "No matter how clever or desperate the vessel is — you do not look inward."
"But why?" Cale pressed. "What's the real reason?"
This time, Aleric spoke — voice low.
"Because the last time someone tried… they shattered the boundary between this world and the next."
Cale swallowed.
"That's how the Vorraks got in?"
"It's how the first ones did," Aleric said. "And it's why the war began."
Silence followed.
Cale looked down at his wrist, the spiral faintly glowing beneath his sleeve.
He didn't know what was heavier — the knowledge, or the fact they'd all looked so serious.
He nodded.
"…Alright. I won't."
Emis said nothing.
Mira closed her eyes, approving.
And Aleric?
Aleric finally turned to face him fully.
"Then let's begin."
The training hall was quiet again — but not still.
Aleric stood with his arms folded near the window. Cale stood in the center, spine straight, hands loose at his sides. The spiral mark on his wrist pulsed once, faintly, under the light of early noon.
"Today," Aleric said, "you're not going to fight. You're going to look."
Cale raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I do have eyes."
Aleric ignored that. "You'll use your Oculen's gift — deliberately, not passively — for the first time."
Cale's posture straightened. "What am I looking for?"
Aleric glanced upward toward the rafters.
"Mira."
Cale followed his gaze.
The beam was empty.
"She left ten minutes ago," Aleric said. "She's hidden somewhere within the manor. Your task is simple: find her. But not by walking. Not by guessing. You'll sit, focus, and allow the flow to guide you to the last echo of her presence."
Cale swallowed. "Right now?"
Emis yawned from a nearby windowsill."Unless you're planning to start next year."
Cale lowered himself to the floor cross-legged.
"Begin with containment," Aleric said calmly.
Cale closed his eyes. Breathed in.
The spiral mark settled, pulsing in time with his heart.
"Now Divine Flow. Guide it to your eyes. Focus it there."
Cale concentrated — the warmth flared through his limbs, rising gently like water up his spine, curling behind his eyes like smoke.
He felt the shift.
The air warped.
He opened his eyes.
And the room was gone.
*
(Vision Space)
The world around him was grayscale — as if color had been drained and replaced with memory. Shadows rippled where people had once moved. Time felt soft here — like it could stretch or snap.
He stood in a corridor. He knew it, vaguely — the west wing of the manor.
A faint shimmer hovered in the air — not light, exactly, but a feeling.
A drift of feathers moved across the floor — black and slow, like falling in reverse.
He followed.
The door ahead clicked. It opened a crack, creaking backward.
Inside, silence — and a glint of red.
Eyes. Watching. Unseen.
Then—
The vision cracked.
And Cale blinked awake.
*
(Back in the Hall)
He stumbled upright, panting. "That… was weird."
Aleric tilted his head. "Where?"
"West wing," Cale said. "A room with a narrow door. Something… watching me."
"Then go."
Cale took off without waiting for more.
Down the corridor. Left at the first painting. He followed the image from his vision — down two turns, past the empty vase, to a door with a crooked hinge.
He pushed it open.
And there she was.
Mira stood in the center of the room, perched elegantly on the edge of a writing desk.
"Well," she said, voice smooth as glass. "Took you long enough."
Cale stared. "How did you—?"
"I left only the faintest trace. You still found me."
She tilted her head.
"Not bad, Oculen boy. Not bad at all."
Cale grinned, heart still pounding.
He'd done it.
For real.
Mira lifted off with a flutter and vanished through the hall.
Behind him, Aleric's voice echoed faintly from down the corridor:
"One vision down. A hundred more to go."
_________________
Dinner that evening was quiet.
Cale, Emis, Aleric, and Mira sat at a long, darkwood table bathed in candlelight. The food was simpler tonight — roasted root vegetables, a thick stew, slices of black bread and herbed butter. After the day's vision training, Cale had earned every bite.
He was halfway through his second helping when the air shifted.
A soft rustle of feathers.
Then — thump — the window creaked open on its own.
A breeze swept in.
And with it, a shape.
An owl — pitch-black, sleek, and silent — glided through the air like a shadow with purpose. Its glowing eyes shimmered like moonlight behind smoke. A tiny crescent symbol glowed at the center of its forehead.
The owl landed gently on the edge of the table, straight across from Cale.
It tilted its head slightly.
Then, in a voice that rumbled like stone in fog, it spoke:
"I see you've been doing well, Cale Varn."
Cale nearly dropped his fork.
Emis snorted.
The owl continued, one claw extending a tightly rolled scroll from beneath its wing.
"Your father asked me to deliver this to you."
Cale reached out slowly, taking the scroll with reverent hands.
The owl gave a slow nod and turned toward Mira.
"Still brooding over beams, Mira?"
Mira fluttered her wings lightly. "Still too dramatic for your own good, Elurin?"
The owl — Elurin, apparently — let out a low, musical hum.
"I prefer the term 'theatrical.'"
Cale looked from bird to bird, utterly baffled.
"Um… Aleric?"
Aleric, who had been calmly sipping from a small cup of spiced tea, finally looked up.
"Oh. Right."
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I haven't taught you yet, have I?"
Cale shook his head slowly.
"Cale," Aleric said, gesturing toward the owl, "this is Elurin. He is your father's Yvelin."
Cale stared. "My father had a Yvelin?"
Emis coughed dramatically. "Has. Present tense."
Elurin turned his glowing eyes toward Cale again.
"He sends his regards. And his apologies. The message will explain more."
Cale glanced down at the scroll, heart suddenly beating faster.
Aleric leaned back, voice thoughtful.
"Well then. I suppose tomorrow, we begin your next lesson—"
He glanced toward Emis and Mira.
"—on the Veyrathi bloodlines."