The moon hung low over Ashveil Academy, its pale light casting long shadows across the marble courtyard. Otoku stood alone, his eyes fixed on the towering spires that cut into the night sky. A cold wind whispered through the halls, carrying with it the distant murmurs of forgotten souls.
His hand rested upon the Codex, its surface pulsing faintly with void energy. Since the Rift's ember-trail had been sealed, the book had grown heavier—its weight not of mass, but of consequence.
"You're restless," Noctis murmured, appearing beside him, shadowy fur rippling with traces of dark flame. His eyes, two pinpricks of violet light, regarded Otoku with something close to concern.
Otoku's fingers traced the edge of the Codex. "The Rift was just a taste," he said quietly. "Something else is stirring...something old."
Noctis's ears perked, and his shadowy form stiffened. "The Rift is ancient, but not singular. The echoes of its kind resonate across the Veil."
Otoku nodded, gaze sharpening. "We have to be ready. The Academy may not stand another assault—not if it's unprepared."
As if summoned by his words, footsteps echoed behind him. Otoku turned to see Arthelia approaching, her blindfold still firmly in place, her expression serene but unyielding.
"You feel it too," she said, her voice soft but edged with steel. "The Wailing Wastes...they've grown louder."
Otoku's grip on the Codex tightened. "How long?"
Arthelia paused, her hands clasped in front of her. "A fortnight, perhaps less. Whatever is coming...it's not like the Rift. It's colder. Hungrier."
Noctis growled lowly, shadowy flames licking at his paws. "Another gate?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.
Arthelia's lips pressed into a thin line. "Perhaps. But this one...it's older. From before the Codex was written."
Otoku felt a chill creep into his bones. Before the Codex? That predated even his oldest memories. "Then we need to prepare."
Arthelia stepped closer, her blindfolded eyes somehow piercing. "Not just prepare. We need to find its source."
Silence hung heavy between them, punctuated only by the distant cries of night birds. Otoku nodded. "Gather the Vanguard. We move at dawn."
The three of them stood beneath the shadow of Ashveil's tallest spire, the night deepening around them. For the first time in a long while, Otoku felt the weight of inevitability pressing down upon him. The Codex pulsed, and the whispers grew louder.
And in the distance, from the direction of the Wailing Wastes, the ground trembled.