The days that followed the Second Harbinger's defeat were far from quiet.
Steven and Master Aravon traveled across the fractured lands of Elaris, seeking refuge from the spreading corruption. The Absence wasn't just sending emissaries—it was infecting the very fabric of magic. Temples cracked, ley lines distorted, and whispers haunted the wind.
Yet for the first time, Steven felt a strange clarity. The Flame of Aravon responded to his soul. He wasn't just reacting anymore—he was evolving.
They came upon a forgotten forest—thick with fog and eerie stillness. At its center stood ancient ruins, stone archways twisted with silver vines and runes glowing faintly under moonlight.
"This place," Aravon murmured, "was once sacred. The Circle of the Veiled Moon. A conclave of spellcasters who swore to protect reality's secrets."
Steven eyed the crumbling temple. "Let me guess—they were wiped out?"
"No," Aravon said. "They vanished."
As they stepped inside, the temperature dropped. The silence deepened. And then—they heard chanting.
Low. Distant. Rhythmic.
Steven raised his weapon. "That's not an echo."
From the shadows, five hooded figures stepped forward, each bearing a crescent moon insignia stitched in silver thread.
The lead figure removed her hood, revealing dark skin, glowing blue eyes, and silver dreadlocks that shimmered with arcane energy.
"You brought the Flame," she said softly. "Then the time has come."
Steven tensed. "Who are you?"
"We are the last of the Circle," she replied. "And you, Steven Lethal… are the one the Moonborn Prophecy foretold."
Aravon stiffened. "That prophecy was forbidden. Lost."
"Not lost," the woman said. "Buried. For fear of what it meant."
She walked up to Steven and placed a glowing hand over his heart.
"You are not just bound to the Codex, Steven. You are the Codex—its will, its weapon, and its warning. When the Absence takes form… you will be its equal."
Steven's voice was hoarse. "You're saying… I'm supposed to face it? Alone?"
"No." She smiled faintly. "But you will be the one to choose who stands with you."
Behind her, the five spellcasters knelt.
One by one, they spoke in unison.
"We pledge ourselves to the Codex. To the Flame. To the one who will decide the fate of all worlds."
Steven looked to Aravon—then to the rising moon through the ruined ceiling.
He didn't ask for this.
But he was this.
He clenched his spear.
Then he said, "Teach me. Everything."
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To be continued