The world snapped back into place with a breath. Dust drifted in spirals.
Alain looked at the surroundings, the sky above him wasn't the red haze nor the marble arches. It was gray, with heavy promises of rain…exactly the sky they had left behind.
Besides him, Lia staggered once, catching herself in small breaths.
They were…back.
However, they weren't alone.
Gasps and chatter broke out around them like firecrackers. Alain turned slowly.
They were inside a crater, at least thirty meters across, carved clean through the concrete that made old bunkers in Ede so reliable. Police barriers ringed the rim in a jagged circle.
Drones hovered like metal vultures, lights sweeping the pit in arcs. Officers stood shoulder-to-shoulder, holding back a crowd that pressed in from every direction.
Reporters leaned over barricades, arms and cameras stretching outward.
A single voice broke through:
"Th-they're back…!"
Alain felt Lia tense beside him. Instinctively, he shifted half a step forward, enough to shield her without thinking.
The response was immediate.
Cameras clicked so fast they sounded like static. Microphones shoved past the perimeter. Flashbulbs burst like tiny suns, illuminating the crater in blinding stuttered light.
Someone pointed from behind the barricade.
"Look… their gloves… they're still glowing."
Each voice overlapped another. Officers tried shouting for order. No one listened.
Alain glanced down.
A faint thread of gold pulsed beneath the seam of his left glove. The same warmth he'd felt in the Baldr's garden.
Lia lifted her right hand slowly. Under the fabric, a dim silver pulsed in sync with her breath.
Whispers swept across the barricade.
"Dual runes?"
"—But they're just kids."
"—This shouldn't be possible…"
Alain's heartbeat hammered in his ears. His thoughts were sluggish, still catching up to the fact that he was no longer in the collapsing Revelation.
Lia leaned closer, whispering under the noise, "Alain… everyone's staring."
"Yeah," he muttered. "I noticed."
A figure stepped through the containment line. Calm and composed, his white coat fluttered in the wind, revealing a circular emblem burned into its sleeve—the unmistakable insignia of the Aesir Operatives.
He slid down the crater with a complete calm. Reporters surged forwards, asking all sorts of questions but he ignored them all.
"Easy," he murmured when he reached the center. His voice cut through the cold air more gently than the light.
Lia's breath hitched. "We're… we're okay."
The man looked at her for only a second, but something softened in his eyes.
He turned that same look on Alain. "Any dizziness? Blurred vision? Pain in your chest?"
Alain swallowed. "No… just tired. Confused."
"That's normal," he said quietly, stepping close enough that his coat nearly brushed Alain's. "Revelations—especially unprepared ones—can rip your mind apart. You two shouldn't even be standing."
Lia lowered her head slightly. "We didn't expect any of this."
"I know." His tone was too gentle for a ranking Operative. "But you made it back. And you're stable."
He exhaled—a quiet, relieved sound—and gave a small, tired smile.
"Let's get you two away from the lights and eyes. You don't need that right now."
He guided them toward the quieter side of the crater, away from the lights. The officers parted instinctively as he approached, none daring to speak, as if one wrong sound might destabilize something fragile.
When they reached the shadow beneath a collapsed concrete ledge, the man knelt on one knee and pressed his palm lightly against the ground.
Alain felt the shift instantly.
A faint circle of light unfolded beneath his hand, thin as a blade edge, then widened into a shallow dome of pale blue.
Alain swallowed. "Where are we… going?"
"Somewhere quiet," he replied. "Don't worry, you'll be safe."
The Rune on his hand started glowing, in a similar golden light as Alain's but far more fragile.
ᛦ — Ljóss (Light)
Alain barely had time to inhale before the world tilted—
—then clicked.
The crater, the crowd, the noise, all vanished.
The dome of light dissolved into a quiet, dim room. Thick curtains shut out the outside world, and a muted hum of air circulation filled the silence. A round table sat beside a wall-mounted med-kit. Clean sheets were folded on the bed. A small badge on the corner of the mirror read:
Aesir Emergency Suite — Ede District HQ
Lia exhaled shakily. "…We're indoors?"
The man dusted off his gloves, unfazed. "Yeah, you'll be staying here for a day or two. Just until the press dies down a little."
He looked down at the two of them with a softness that contrasted the precision of his runes.
"You're safe now."
Alain and Lia both breathed out at the same time.
Sitting down, the man took off his coat and propped it on top of another chair. Alain and Lia sat nearby on the bed.
"Aesir Operative, Codename Heimdall," he said. Then his voice softened with a small smile. "But… you can call me Ceres."
"Alright," he said, folding his hands. "Let's talk about what just happened to you."
"Revelations," Ceres began, "are incredibly rare. They don't accept everyone. And when they do accept someone, the success rate is abysmal."
He tapped a finger lightly against his knee.
"Most noble houses celebrate even the chance of a Revelation. They throw parties, hire instructors, prepare their children for months. Even then, half of them fail."
Lia's eyes widened. "Half?"
"Half of the prepared ones," Ceres repeated. "For unprepared people… the survival rate drops to one in several hundred."
A quiet settled between them.
Ceres' gaze softened. "I don't need to explain why you guys are special?"
Alain nodded.
"But the type of Revelation you two entered… that's another matter entirely."
"Elemental Runes—Fire, Water, Wind, Earth—are common enough. Their Revelations are structured, predictable, and safe when handled properly."
He pointed at their respective Runes, "As you'd probably know, since you both bear an Elemental Rune yourself."
"But Abstract Runes… those are different."
Lia's breath caught. "Abstract… like mine?"
"Like both of yours," Ceres corrected gently.
The room seemed to shrink.
Ceres continued, voice steady but tinged with something like awe:
"Abstract Runes deal with concepts. Ideals. Emotions. States of being."
He pushed his glasses up. "A whole academy generation might see only three—maybe four—Among nobles. There are some generations where none appear at all"
Alain looked down at his gloved hands, flexing them slightly. "So… what does that mean for us?"
"It means," Ceres said, "you're both talented. Extremely so. And talent like this needs guidance before it hurts you."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"You need training. Proper training. Control. Understanding. And the only place in the continent equipped to handle Abstract casters is…Aesir Academy."
"It's not optional in cases like yours. You'll be taught by people who understand what your Runes are capable of."
"You'll learn to use them safely. You'll learn about your Revelation, your bond, and why it chose you."
"Also, protection is guaranteed. From attention. From exploitation. From people who would… see value in what you carry."
Alain felt something tighten in his chest.
"And if we go," he said slowly, "what then?"
"Then," Ceres said with a warm, tired smile, "you get a chance. A real one. At a future bigger than Ede's alleys or its bunkers."
He looked between them.
"You two survived the impossible. Now let me help you understand what you are."
Lia spoke first, barely above a whisper. "Could you…at least give us a chance to think it through?"
Ceres' smile widened a fraction, relieved. He stood up and picked up his coat.
"I'm starting to like you guys. You don't blindly dive into things—maybe that's how you survived the Revelation."
Opening the door, he looked back just for a second.
"I'll come by to hear your answer tomorrow morning. Rest well."
The door clicked shut behind Ceres, leaving a soft hum of air circulation in its wake.
Alain let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and slumped back onto the bed. Lia sat beside him, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her glove, her silver pulse dimming slowly under the fabric.
"…We really made it back," she murmured.
Alain stared at his hands. "Feels unreal, doesn't it?"
She nodded. "A little."
A heartbeat passed. Then another.
"…Do you think he's right? About us being… special?"
Alain huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know about special. More like lucky."
Silence lingered—soft, not heavy. A rare moment where neither of them had to run or fight or pretend to be stronger than they were.
Lia pulled her knees up, chin resting lightly on them. "Do you…want to go?" she asked. "To the Academy, I mean."
"Want?" he echoed. "I don't know. But maybe…"
He looked at her, expression softening.
"Maybe we should."
Lia's eyes met his—uncertain, hopeful. "Together?"
Alain almost smiled. "Yeah. Together."
The room was quiet—until Alain noticed there was only one bed. Lia noticed it too.
They both looked away at the same time, cheeks warm, the long day finally catching up to them.