Morning arrived heavy.
The light piercing through the leaves felt colder, and the clearing carried an uncomfortable silence—not threatening like before, but dense, as if something in the atmosphere had shifted.
Ren sat near the White Spirit Flower, watching particles of light drift through the air. He looked calm… but it wasn't calm. It was distance. A hollow stillness, as if something important inside him had gone silent.
Lyra watched from afar.She had never seen Ren like this. He wasn't apathetic, nor weak—just far away, as though a piece of him had remained somewhere else in the forest during the night.
The wind around her twisted anxiously, echoing her worry.
Draven trained alone, throwing punches into the air. Each strike should have burst into sparks—yet his flame flickered unpredictably. Flickered. Died. Returned weak.
He clicked his tongue in frustration.— "Why is this happening…?"
He punched again. The fire sputtered and faded almost instantly.His eyes wandered toward Ren.
Something tightened in his chest.Ren had always been his silent anchor—the calm, steady presence he unconsciously relied on.But now…
Ren looked smaller.
And for the first time in his young life, Draven felt something he couldn't name:fear.
His flame responded to that fear.And went out completely.
Borin pretended to sharpen his axe, but anyone could tell he was watching Ren.The boy moved across the clearing like a ghost, steps slow and directionless.
Borin let out a long breath.— "Kid… you're carryin' too much."
He was old enough to recognize haunted eyes.Ren wasn't simply troubled—he was scared.
And when a leader is afraid, the entire group trembles with him.
Lyra finally approached.
— "Ren."
He didn't answer immediately. He only turned when she called again.His silver eyes looked dim—dull, almost lifeless.
Her heart squeezed.
— "You're avoiding me."— "I'm not."— "You are. Since yesterday."
The wind stirred around her hair, as if trying to tug Ren back.
— "I notice things. The wind tells me. And right now…"She swallowed.— "…it says you're afraid."
Ren froze.
His grip on the staff faltered.
Lyra stepped closer, trying to reach him.
— "Talk to me."
Ren shut his eyes. When he spoke, the words came out thin:
— "Lyra… I'm afraid."
The arrow in her hand slipped to the ground.
— "Afraid of what…?"
He hesitated.
He wanted to tell her everything—about the Eye, about the Cycle, about the terrible words whispered into his soul.
But he remembered the phrase that kept echoing like a curse:
"The Guild walks toward glory… and toward mourning."
He swallowed.
And said only:
— "Of you getting hurt."
Lyra recognized the half-truth instantly.
Gently, she touched his cheek.He stiffened.
It was a soft touch—gentle, understanding, almost intimate.Nearly enough to break the wall he was building.
— "I won't break that easily… and neither will you."
He wanted to believe her.
Truly wanted to.
But then the memory of the Cycle clawed through his thoughts.
Ren stepped back.
Lyra's hand slowly dropped.A quiet ache spread through her chest.
Training that day was a disaster.
The Guild's synergy had collapsed.Ren gave commands correctly, but mechanically.Lyra mistimed her shots.Draven's flames kept sputtering.Borin had to correct even basic stances.
— "Ren, you messed up my arrow's timing!" Lyra exclaimed.— "Sorry," he answered flatly.
Borin spat on the ground.— "Our synergy's shot."
Draven punched the air, frustrated.— "I can't feel him! It's like Ren is… far away."
And deep down, they were all right.
Ren was there in body.
But his soul was still before the Eye.
The Cycle's shadow had slipped into him—quiet, deep, dangerously invisible.
And each one of them felt it.
In their own way, they were all falling with him.
✦ [Status Window – Immortal Guild]
Synergy: dropped from Lv.2 to Lv.1Ren: Cycle's Shadow (Lv.1) – worseningLyra: emotional instability – heightened spiritual empathyDraven: unstable flames – internal insecurityBorin: heightened awareness – growing suspicion
Guild Base: 43%Status: Bonds weakened; unseen threat approaching