The fire crackled low in Auren's hearth, casting flickering shadows across the smooth stone floor. Jack sat cross-legged before it, his head bowed, still trembling from the vision—no, the meeting—with Thalon. He could still feel the warmth of his father's arms, still hear the echo of his voice whispering hope into his soul. But with that warmth came a weight. A burden of destiny. A call to act.
Auren stepped into the room, his white robes aglow with faint lunar runes. "It is time," he said softly, as if not to shatter the fragile quiet that had settled over Jack.
Jack looked up, his eyes clear. "I know."
"The realm is dying," Auren continued, kneeling beside him. "The balance has tipped too far toward shadow. Isolde's grip tightens. And though your presence brings light back into Vaelmir, it is not enough. Not yet."
Jack nodded. "Then what must I do?"
Auren opened an ancient scroll, the parchment frayed but pulsing faintly with light. "There are three artifacts, scattered across the Realms. They were forged by the first Guardians—when the world was still young. Only together can they channel the Light's full power and strip Isolde of the darkness that shields her."
He traced three points on the scroll. "The Tear of Elumir, hidden in the Heartwood of the Earth Realm. The Mirror of Veyra, deep within the Sky Temple of the Aether. And the Flame of Sereval, guarded in the Crimson Depths of the Fire Realm."
Jack inhaled slowly. "I have to retrieve them all?"
"You're not going alone."
Two figures stepped forward from the doorway. Both young, both cloaked in midnight-blue armor with crescent sigils etched in silver. Auren gestured toward them.
"This is Nyssa, daughter of the moon general Elan, and Kael, orphaned by the fire war but raised by the last Light acolytes. They are skilled, loyal, and bound to your cause."
Nyssa gave a solemn bow. "I've trained for this my whole life."
Kael cracked a smile. "And I live for danger."
Jack stood, heart pounding. "Then let's begin."
—-
Far away, in her tower black as midnight, Isolde watched the skies churn with unrest. She felt something shift in the Veil—the threads of fate tugged by a familiar hand.
Her crystal mirror shimmered and cracked.
"So," she hissed, "he moves."
She extended her hand, summoning shadows from beneath her throne. "Send the Wraiths of Meros. Let's see if the boy is truly Thalon's son."
And in the darkness, something ancient stirred.