The sun rose slowly over the Northern Highlands, staining the sky with muted shades of gold and rose. It should've been beautiful, peaceful, comforting.
But nothing felt peaceful.
Not after last night.
Sera stood at the edge of the crater—the same crater Kieran had created when he released that catastrophic wave of proto-Core energy. The mountainside was half-gone, replaced by a jagged hollow of scorched stone and crystallized sand.
It felt like standing at the edge of a scar left on the world.
Theron stood a few steps behind her, the early sunlight glinting gently off the faint silver-gold threads fading around his wrists. He had pushed himself past his limit last night. She could still sense the strain radiating from him.
"You didn't sleep," he said softly.
Sera didn't look back. "I couldn't."
The wind sighed through the ruins—what little remained of them—lifting strands of her hair and brushing cool air across her bruised cheek. Her whole body ached, but her mind was sharper than ever.
Kieran had vanished.
But his presence—his energy—still clung to the air like smoke after an explosion.
Theron moved beside her. "He's unstable. You saw what was happening to him."
She nodded. "His body is fracturing. The proto-Core is devouring him from the inside."
"Which means he's becoming more dangerous the longer he survives."
Sera frowned, gaze fixed on the horizon.
"Yes. And he knows that too."
She touched the seventh fragment resting safely inside its reinforced glass and silver-gold casing. It pulsed gently—steady, calm—almost as if healed after the near-fusion.
Theron had sealed it the moment the explosion ended.
But Sera could still feel its fear… or anticipation.
The fragment reacted to Kieran unlike anything she had ever seen.
"He's not after power anymore," she murmured. "He's trying to anchor himself. The proto-Core is unstabilized. If he merges with all the fragments…"
Theron's jaw clenched.
"He'll stop breaking."
"And start becoming something else."
Sera finally turned to look at him. "We have to find him."
Theron sighed. "We will. But not while your aura is flickering."
She blinked. "What?"
He lifted a hand gently toward her. "Sera, you burned through nearly everything. Even your wolf is exhausted."
Her aura had been pulsing unevenly since they woke. She had hoped he wouldn't notice, but of course he did.
Theron always noticed.
"I'm fine," she insisted.
"Your wolf can't shift without backlash right now."
"…I know."
He stepped closer.
"You don't have to be fine all the time, Sera."
Her chest tightened. She turned away before emotions could rise to the surface—because she didn't want to discuss feelings when the world was hanging by a thread.
"Let's secure the perimeter," she said, walking ahead.
Theron followed silently.
---
The Broken Highlands
The two of them spent hours moving across the shattered terrain, investigating deep cracks, scorched soil, and strange crystallized formations left behind by Kieran's blast. Some fragments hummed softly when touched—unstable pockets of hybrid energy.
Theron neutralized them with precise threadwork.
Sera smashed any that resisted.
But something felt off.
Too quiet.
Too still.
After a while, Theron knelt beside an oddly shaped stone cluster. He gently pressed a thread-enhanced palm to the surface. The ground vibrated—slightly, then more.
Sera tensed. "What is it?"
"Energy residue," he murmured. "But… odd."
"How?"
"This isn't from the explosion. This is… new."
Sera stiffened. "From Kieran?"
"I don't think so."
She frowned. "Another hybrid?"
"No." Theron rose, eyes narrowing. "This is older."
He gestured toward a faint marking half-buried in the dust. A circular emblem—almost a seal—barely recognizable.
But Sera had seen it once before.
In the secret archives of the Northern Pack.
"The original Core Council," she whispered. "From the era before the clans split."
Theron nodded grimly. "Someone's reactivating old sites."
Sera's heart thudded.
"Kieran?"
"Maybe," Theron said. "But Core Council sites aren't simple power wells. They are—"
"Anchors."
He looked at her, eyes serious.
"Yes."
Anchors that stabilized the original Core thousands of years ago.
Anchors that could stabilize Kieran's proto-Core if he found them.
Sera's pulse quickened.
"He went underground."
Theron nodded. "Most likely."
She clenched her fists. "We're running out of time."
---
A Shadow in the Wind
They moved deeper into the ravine. The air grew colder. The energy thicker—heavier. Sera's wolf growled inside her, irritated but alert despite its exhaustion.
Then she felt it.
A movement.
Soft, subtle.
Like someone watching them.
She froze. "Theron."
He had already noticed—threads shimmering faintly in the air.
A shadow shifted across the ridge above them. For a moment Sera thought it was Kieran—but the aura was completely different.
Smoother. Controlled. Cold.
Then a figure stepped forward, cloaked in smoke-grey armor with dark markings etched along the plates.
Sera's eyes widened.
"Impossible…"
Theron's threads snapped defensively. "No way… those are—"
"Core Sentinels," Sera whispered.
Ancient protectors. Thought to be extinct.
Destroyed when the original Core imploded ages ago.
And yet…
The Sentinel's voice was metallic, but clear.
"Seraphina Vale. Theron Damaris. You stand on restricted ground."
Theron's jaw tightened. "There hasn't been a Core Sentinel for centuries."
The figure tilted its head.
"There has always been one. Hidden. Waiting."
Sera stepped forward, hand near her blade. "Why reveal yourself now?"
The Sentinel's visor glowed faintly.
"A proto-Core bearer walks the world."
Sera's blood chilled. "You mean Kieran."
"The corrupted one," the Sentinel corrected. "He seeks the anchors. He seeks restoration of the Core."
Theron exchanged a grim look with Sera.
The Sentinel continued:
"If he completes the sequence, the world will fracture."
Sera's breathing quickened. "Then help us stop him."
But the Sentinel shook its head.
"We cannot interfere directly. The Council forbids it."
"The Council?" Sera blinked. "The Council is gone."
"The Council endures," the Sentinel said. "Hidden. Watching. Preparing for the moment the fragments awaken."
Theron's threads flickered in agitation. "This is getting worse."
Sera stepped closer, refusing to back down. "If you can't fight, then tell us where he went."
The visor dimmed.
Then—surprisingly—it nodded.
"The corrupted one travels to the Eastern Spine. The First Anchor lies beneath the ancient ridge."
Sera inhaled sharply. "That's days away."
"Not anymore," Theron said. "Not with him in proto-Core state. He could already be halfway there."
The Sentinel finally stepped back.
"Beware the Anchor. It does not choose lightly."
Then it vanished—disappearing into a burst of static and light.
---
A Dangerous Plan
Sera stood in the silence that followed, heart pounding.
Theron placed a hand on her shoulder. "We have a destination."
"And not enough time," she whispered.
He nodded. "Then we move now."
Before she could respond, a pulse of energy rippled through the air.
From the fragment.
Sera turned—the seventh fragment inside its casing had begun to glow brighter, vibrating gently.
She touched the glass.
"What's wrong?"
Theron's eyes widened. "It's reacting to the Anchor. The fragment senses its counterpart."
Sera swallowed hard. "So Kieran is getting closer."
Theron stepped in front of her, blocking the wind now rushing across the ridge.
"Sera, listen to me."
She looked up at him.
"We are heading into something we do not fully understand. Anchors. Sentinels. A proto-Core that's tearing him apart. You cannot charge in like last time."
Sera exhaled shakily. "I know."
"And your wolf needs time to recover."
"I know, Theron."
"But you won't stop anyway."
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"No. I won't."
Theron touched her cheek gently, lifting her chin.
"Then I won't let you walk into it alone."
Her breath faltered.
He didn't move.
Didn't drop her gaze.
Didn't retreat.
Sera swallowed. "Theron…"
"I'm here," he said softly. "Every step until the end."
Her chest tightened—but this time, not with pain.
With resolve.
She nodded. "Then let's find him."
Theron's threads flared.
Sera's aura steadied.
The horizon glowed with the first hints of the rising sun.
And the journey toward the Eastern Spine—the First Anchor—had officially begun.