The mountain did not release Arel easily.
Long after the light had faded and the Gate Seekers had vanished, the Old One continued to breathe beneath his feet—slow, heavy pulses that rolled through the stone like distant thunder. Each breath made the ground subtly rise and fall, as if the mountain were asleep and dreaming uneasy dreams.
Arel lay where he had fallen, staring up at the sky. The clouds had thinned into pale streaks, drifting as though nothing extraordinary had occurred. Birds returned cautiously, their calls hesitant, unsure whether the world was safe again.
Arel was not sure either.
His left hand throbbed, the mark no longer blazing but glowing softly, like embers buried beneath ash. He unwrapped the cloth with trembling fingers. The symbol had changed. Where once it had been a simple pattern—faint and incomplete—it was now fully formed, its lines sharp and radiant, etched into his skin as if they had always been there and he had only just learned how to see them.
"So this is what an anchor looks like," he murmured.
"You will feel different," the Guardian said, its voice a distant presence now, like an echo carried across water. "The gate has tasted your soul."
"That's not comforting," Arel replied weakly.
A pause followed, then something like quiet acknowledgment. "Few truths are."
He sat up slowly, his muscles protesting. Every movement felt heavier, as though gravity itself had grown curious about him and decided to pay closer attention. The charm Elder Kaem had given him lay against his chest, warm to the touch.
For grounding.
Arel exhaled and pushed himself to his feet.
The ravine where he had taken refuge was changed. Stone had melted and reformed into smooth, glass-like surfaces. The air carried a faint shimmer, a residue of power that made the edges of the world seem slightly out of focus. Whatever he had done—whatever the First Gate had done through him—it had left its mark on the land as well.
And that terrified him more than the Gate Seekers ever could.
"Guardian," he said aloud, "you said others would feel the gate awaken."
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Enough."
Arel grimaced. "That's not an answer."
"It is the only one that matters."
He climbed out of the ravine carefully, choosing each step with care. When he reached the main path again, he paused, staring up toward the peak. The spiral of clouds had loosened, but the