The summons came at dusk.
I'd been expecting it, in a way. After the golem, after freeing a spirit that had been trapped for eight hundred years, after winning in front of the entire Academy—someone in authority was bound to have questions.
I just didn't expect it to be Headmaster Thalion.
The ancient elf's office occupied the highest peak of the dragon-mountain, a circular room of crystal and living wood that seemed to grow from the stone itself. Books lined every wall, their spines glowing with contained magic. Through the windows, the Academy spread below like a map of itself.
Thalion sat behind a desk that was clearly a single cross-section of an impossibly ancient tree. He didn't look up as I entered.
"Close the door."
I did.
He studied a document for a long moment, then set it aside and fixed me with those ageless eyes. Up close, the weight of his centuries was almost physical. I felt like an insect under glass.
"Roy White. Born in Whitefall Territory. Illegitimate son of Baron Boron White. C-rank Potential. Support Magician class. Plant element." His voice was calm, neutral. "And yet, in the past months, you have: evolved a rare skill to C-rank, developed abilities that haven't been seen since the Greenwardens vanished, spoken to ancient spirits, and convinced a dungeon and an arena to fight for you."
He leaned back. "Explain."
I'd prepared for this. Light's warning echoed in my mind, but so did the Greenwarden's journal. I couldn't lie—he'd see through it. But I couldn't tell the whole truth either.
"I found a journal," I said. "In a hidden chamber near Whitefall. It belonged to someone named Kaelan. He was researching... alternative paths. Ways to grow without relying on Potential."
Thalion's eyes narrowed. "Kaelan of the Green Willow."
"You know of him?"
"He was my student. Three hundred years ago." The headmaster's voice softened, just slightly. "Brilliant. Troubled. Obsessed with the idea that the System was a cage, not a foundation. He left the Academy to pursue his theories. I never learned what became of him."
I hesitated. Then, slowly, I reached into my pack and withdrew Kaelan's journal. I placed it on the desk.
He stared at it for a long moment. When he looked up, something ancient and sad moved behind his eyes.
"He succeeded, then. At least partly." He didn't touch the journal. "And you? Are you his successor?"
"I'm someone trying to survive." I met his gaze. "The world has monsters that can destroy continents. The Five are meant to fight them. I'm meant to... be somewhere else when it happens." I paused. "But I'd rather not die in Chapter 12."
Thalion's lips twitched—almost a smile. "You know the novel."
"I lived it. Before I lived here."
He nodded slowly, as if that explained everything. "The Greenwardens believed that the world was a garden, not a battlefield. That true strength came not from conquering, but from nurturing. Kaelan took that philosophy further than any before him." He pushed the journal back toward me. "Keep it. He would have wanted you to have it."
I returned it to my pack, my hands steady despite my racing heart.
"There's something else," Thalion said. "The collector. The one who attacked your party in the Gauntlet."
I went still.
"His employer has been identified. A noble house with connections to the borderlands—and to the Dark Forest." He paused. "House Vane."
Mira's house.
"We're handling it internally," Thalion continued. "But the conspiracy runs deeper than one house. Someone is preparing for the seal's failure. Stockpiling weapons. Recruiting... unusual talents." He looked at me. "You've drawn their attention, Roy White. The way you speak to ancient things, the way you grow where others can't—they see you as a tool to be used."
"Or a threat to be eliminated."
"Both, eventually." He stood, walking to the window. "The trials will continue. You'll advance—your performance has earned that. But after... be careful. Trust no one completely. Not even your party."
I thought of Vance's laugh, Dorn's loyalty, Elara's growing courage, Mira's silent strength. "I trust them."
Thalion turned, and for a moment, he looked almost sad. "Good. Hold onto that. It may be the only thing that saves you."
---
Mira wasn't in the barracks that night.
I found her on the training grounds, alone in the darkness, her sword moving through forms with mechanical precision. She didn't stop when I approached, but her rhythm shifted—acknowledgment, invitation.
"Thalion told me about your house."
Her blade paused, then continued. "I know."
"He said they're handling it internally."
"He's wrong." She stopped, finally, and faced me. Her eyes were flat, empty. "My father isn't just involved. He's leading it. The weapons, the recruits, the collector—all his. I found proof. Documents. Orders with his seal."
My stomach dropped. "Mira..."
"I have to stop him." Her voice was quiet, certain. "Not the Academy. Not the proctors. Me. He's my blood. My responsibility."
"You can't do it alone."
"I've always been alone."
I stepped closer, close enough to see the pain she was trying to hide. "Not anymore."
She stared at me. For a long moment, I thought she'd refuse, push me away, retreat into the silence she'd worn like armor since we met.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
"We'll need the others."
"I know."
"And we'll need a plan."
"I'm working on it."
Something shifted in her eyes—not trust, not yet, but the beginning of it. "Why? Why help me? This isn't your fight."
I thought about it. Really thought.
"Because you're my party. Because you saved my life in the Gauntlet. Because..." I shrugged. "Because I'm tired of watching people die alone."
She looked away, but not before I saw the crack in her armor.
"Tomorrow," she said. "We'll tell them tomorrow."
---
We gathered in the storage room at dawn.
Vance, Dorn, Elara, Mira, and me. The misfits. The survivors. Party 147.
Mira told them everything. Her father. The conspiracy. The Dark Forest connections. The proof she'd found. When she finished, silence filled the small space.
Vance broke it first. "So we're going after a noble house. With connections to the blighted lands. While also trying to pass the Academy trials." He shook his head. "This is insane."
"Yes," Mira agreed.
"I'm in."
She blinked. "What?"
Vance shrugged. "You're party. We're party. That's how it works." He looked at Dorn. "Right?"
Dorn grinned. "I hit things. You point, I hit. Noble things are still things."
Elara's voice was small but steady. "I can heal. And... and I'm tired of being scared. If this is what we have to do, I'll do it."
Mira looked at each of them, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, at me.
"Roy?"
I met her eyes. "We're with you. All of us."
She nodded once. Sharp. Final.
"Then let's plan."
---