The next afternoon, the Sunstone Caves felt less like a hideout and more like a tomb. The air was thick with geothermal heat and the suffocating silence of anticipation.
Kaelen and Elara sat across from each other at the obsidian table, neither having slept more than an hour. The fate of the Obsidian Line—and their own lives—rested on the precise timing of the Temporal Echo Rune currently locked in Kaelen's inner pocket.
"It will activate when Eamon's voice rune hits maximum output," Kaelen murmured, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from a nearby vent. "A high-frequency Aether signature, dense and sustained. The Key is listening for it now."
Elara tracked the moment in her mind, reciting the details from the novel's timeline. "He will start at exactly 2:00 PM, Eldorian Standard Time. He always begins with the King's standard blessing, then announces the decree. The Voice Rune will peak right as he names you as the traitor."
She looked at Kaelen, his face drawn from the exhaustion of the high-level Transfiguration. "You used up nearly all your reserves. You are a Blue Peak Archmage running on fumes. If this fails, we cannot outrun them."
"It will not fail," Kaelen stated, his voice flat with conviction, though his hand subconsciously rested over the pocket containing the Aether Key. "This is not fate; this is engineering. I trust the Varr ancestral designs."
The clock they carried, salvaged from the lodge, ticked relentlessly toward the two o'clock mark.
At exactly 1:58 PM, Kaelen closed his eyes, focusing his remaining Aether not to cast a spell, but to perceive the subtle, distant ripples of the world's magic. He was listening across miles, trying to catch the first sound waves of the approaching disaster.
Two minutes.
One minute.
At 2:00 PM, Kaelen opened his eyes. "It has begun," he whispered.
Miles away, in the bustling Veridian Square of the Eldorian capital, Lord Eamon, the Chief Royal Herald, stood on the ceremonial balcony overlooking thousands of citizens. He was a flamboyant man, dressed in gold-trimmed silks, ready to deliver the most important propaganda speech of the decade.
He raised his hands, and the ornate Voice Rune integrated into his podium flared to life—a massive surge of stable, high-output Orange Rank Aether.
"Citizens of Eldoria!" Eamon's voice boomed, amplified and echoing through the capital. "By the command of Prince Valerius, we bring you grave news—"
But as he continued, pushing the Rune to its highest frequency to announce the treason decree, the Rune's energy signature collided with the silent, remote trigger of Kaelen's Temporal Echo Rune.
Kaelen's counter-spell, piggybacking on Eamon's own broadcast, manifested instantly, not as a voice, but as a silent, overwhelming pulse of pure information.
In the Sunstone Caves, Elara heard nothing, but Kaelen recoiled, a gasp escaping his lips as his meager Aether was pulled violently for the final stage of the activation. The Aether Key gave a single, brilliant white flash and then went dark, its stored energy completely depleted.
In Veridian Square, Lord Eamon was mid-sentence, announcing, "—that the former heir of the Obsidian Line, Kaelen Varr, has committed the ultimate act of treason and theft—"
The very air around his podium shimmered, and his voice was suddenly replaced by a devastating, disembodied whisper—a clean, cold voice that spoke directly into the minds of every listener, overriding Eamon's sound.
"I am Kaelen Varr. The Prince's accusation is a lie orchestrated by a man drowning in political debt. Lord Eamon, the Herald of the Crown, is hopelessly compromised by the Black Hand Guild. His gambling debt of fifty-thousand gold sovereigns was secretly paid by Prince Valerius on the night of the New Moon—a payment secured by promising the removal of the Varr family's financial safeguards. The treason is not mine. The corruption is theirs."
The effect was instantaneous. The public, poised to believe the treason decree, was thrown into confusion. Their Herald, the voice of the Crown, was not just broadcasting treason—he was being simultaneously and utterly disgraced by an omniscient voice that detailed his most embarrassing secret.
Eamon's eyes went wide with pure terror. He stammered, unable to speak, the Voice Rune failing as the sheer psychological shock destabilized his Aether control. He collapsed on the balcony, his reputation, and the decree, destroyed in a single, devastating moment.
Back in the Sunstone Caves, Kaelen slumped back against the stone, breathing heavily. "The rune worked. It broadcast through his own channel. It will take Valerius hours to contain the rumors."
"We bought time," Elara said, her eyes shining with relief. "And we destroyed his most valuable propaganda piece. No one will trust a decree broadcast by a disgraced Herald."
But Kaelen's relief was short-lived. He pulled himself up, his eyes now sharp with renewed focus.
"The broadcast was perfect, but it revealed something else. We just showed Valerius that we have access to high-level temporal magic—a weapon that anticipates his every move. He will cease relying on common enforcers. He will deploy his ultimate weapon."
Kaelen pointed to a complex, faded diagram on a stone wall. "The Codex is hidden, the Aether Key is drained, and my energy is spent. Valerius will now activate the Shadow Legion—his personal, highly-trained cadre of assassins and anti-mages. We have neutralized Gideon, but the rest of the Legion is specialized in eliminating Arcanists without leaving a magical trace."
He grabbed his Staff. "We leave the Caves now. The Codex is safe, but we must find a way to train and survive the Shadow Legion. We are moving into the final stage of this defensive war."