Archon Velda regarded the boy with a faint, knowing smile. "Child," she said, her voice warm but edged with something older than kindness, "what do they call you?"
Kael straightened at once. "Elder-Aunt… I am Kael Ashvane."
At his side, Lyra Farrow's body gave the slightest tremor. A strange expression crossed her flawless face as she murmured under her breath, "Kael… Kael… Ash… no… impossible…"
Velda continued as if she had heard nothing. "Kael, listen well. That stone construct of yours had already begun to warp—there was corruption taking root in it. Its destruction is no loss. Better to start anew and do it properly."
She gestured toward Lyra.
"Do you understand? This Shreve beside me is renowned across realms for her mastery of Wardplate Mastery and the Artificer's Art. If she were inclined to guide you…" A faint smile deepened at the corners of her mouth. "You could forge something ten times greater than that crude thing you just lost."
Kael's stomach twisted with regret. His earlier reckless words now burned in his mind. He shot Lyra a sheepish, ingratiating look.
Lyra rolled her eyes and turned away, utterly unimpressed.
Auryn Gale stepped forward and bowed slightly. "Master has already learned of your arrival, Elder-Aunt. She awaits you in the Violet Reishi Pavilion. Please—this way."
Velda nodded, though a trace of gravity crept into her expression.
Lyra vaulted lightly onto the back of her azure phoenix mount, settling astride it with effortless grace. As Auryn sped ahead to guide the path, Lyra followed, the great bird slicing through the air like a shard of living sky.
Kael remained behind.
He stared at the shattered remains scattered across the ground—fragments of stone, twisted cores, ruined mechanisms. The Invincible Great General… gone.
Tears slipped down his face before he could stop them.
Mira Stonwell drew in a sharp breath. "What kind of Arcane Treasure did Shreve Farrow use? To destroy it so completely… not even a scrap left to salvage…"
Sylva Dreyn shook her head. "If it was her, then it must have been the Violet Aurochs Pin. A relic forged from the horn of an ancient beast—imbued with stormforce. Nothing it strikes remains intact."
She glanced at Kael and smiled gently. "Didn't Elder-Aunt say it? You'll build a better one next time. What kind of man cries over a broken toy?"
Kael's voice came out hoarse. "Everything I've gathered… years of work… I poured it all into that construct. It was all I had." His fists clenched. "It's not like you and Auryn—already seasoned, already traveling beyond the Peaks. You can gather whatever materials you want out there…"
Sylva's tone softened. "Then next time we return, Auryn and I will bring you more. As much as you need." She paused, thinking. "We'll even find you another Fire-Mane Core, if that's what it takes."
Selene Voss, who had been stubbornly silent until now, finally spoke. "Don't sulk like that. I've got plenty of good materials stockpiled. I'll give you some tomorrow." She hesitated, then added, "If you still need Ember-Spirit hair… I'll help you steal it."
Mira nodded eagerly. "Me too! I'll share what I have. Just… don't give up, Kael."
The words struck deeper than he expected.
Emotion surged up in his chest. Eyes burning, he lunged forward—grabbing hands, slinging arms around shoulders, pulling the three of them into an embrace under the guise of gratitude.
And, of course, taking liberties wherever he could.
Sylva merely sighed, long accustomed to his antics. Mira, still innocent to such things, noticed nothing at all.
Selene stiffened.
Heat flooded her cheeks instantly. The memory of that sudden, bewildering kiss from before flared in her mind, throwing her completely off balance.
"Let go!" she snapped, shoving Kael away and breaking free, her heart hammering wildly.
Before Kael could recover, a young maid in green rushed toward them—it was Zaeli, Lady Magister Isara's personal attendant.
"By the Lady Magister's order," she said crisply, "all of you are to proceed at once to the Violet Reishi Pavilion. Guests await."
---
The Violet Reishi Pavilion clung to the southeastern face of Vane's Summit, its structure jutting out over sheer emptiness. Half the building hung suspended beyond the cliff itself, as though shaped by divine hands rather than built by mortal craft.
Inside, the air was rich with the scent of steeped herbs.
Isara Ashvane sat at the head of the chamber, her white hair flowing like frost over her shoulders, her presence cold and absolute. Across from her sat Archon Velda and Lyra Farrow, tea already poured.
The four disciples entered and immediately dropped to their knees.
"Rise," Velda said with a soft laugh. "We've already seen you outside."
Isara inclined her head slightly. "These are my disciples. You may pay your respects."
Formalities completed, Velda turned back to Isara. "I've long heard your students are exceptional. Why not tell us more of them?"
Isara's tone remained even. "They merely align well with the Five-Force Path. Nothing that would impress you."
Lyra smirked faintly. "Come now, Ninth Sister. Don't be so modest. Let's hear it."
Isara ignored her and gestured toward Auryn.
"This is my eldest disciple—Auryn Gale. Gold-aligned. The earliest to enter my tutelage, and the most stable in foundation. Among them, her Vitae is strongest, and her martial skill the most refined. She has already left the Peaks and now serves under the Celestial Way Conclave. She has earned some reputation beyond these mountains."
Velda chuckled. "Some? She's one of the most renowned of your generation."
Isara shook her head faintly. "Not compared to your own protégés."
She motioned next to Sylva.
"My second disciple, Sylva Dreyn. Wood-aligned. Her Aether is the strongest among them, and she has a natural affinity for healing arts. She studies widely—scriptures, records. She sees more than most."
Velda nodded. "She's assisting with the compilation of the Universal Spirits Ranking, is she not?"
Sylva bowed deeply. "Only assisting in minor organization, Elder-Aunt."
Lyra tilted her head. "I've heard you never forget anything you read."
Sylva smiled faintly. "Just stubborn memorization. Nothing more."
Isara turned to Selene.
"My third disciple—Selene Voss. Daughter of Lord Vossmark."
Velda's eyes flickered. "Ah… the Marquis of Valdenmere."
"She is water-aligned. Among all my disciples, her comprehension is the sharpest. She learns faster than the rest." Isara paused. "Her temperament, however, is impatient. Otherwise, she might surpass me in time."
Velda smiled. "Good. Very good."
Selene's lips curled upward despite herself, a flash of pride breaking through her usual composure.
Isara gestured toward Mira.
"My fourth disciple—Mira Stonwell. Earth-aligned. Steady, diligent. Strong foundation. She has a particular obsession with summoning arts and has studied deeply within the earth disciplines. I hold high expectations for her."
"Good child," Velda said warmly.
Mira lowered her head, cheeks flushed.
Then—
Isara's gaze fell upon Kael.
She paused.
For just a moment.
Kael's heart lifted. He leaned forward slightly, anticipation burning in his chest.
*What will she say about me?*
"…This is Kael," Isara said at last. "My youngest disciple. An orphan who took my name. Fire-aligned."
That was all.
Nothing more.
Silence settled.
Velda nodded once and did not press further.
Kael felt something inside him cave in.
*That's it?*
A sour weight dragged through his chest.
*She praises them… every one of them… and me? That's all I am?*
The truth gnawed at him. He had no standout strength. No natural brilliance. Nothing that set him apart from the four before him.
And now—even the one thing he had built with his own hands was gone.
His thoughts spiraled inward, darker and tighter, until he barely heard the conversation continuing above him.
A tug at his sleeve snapped him back.
Selene stood beside him, brows knit. "What's wrong with you? Still brooding over that broken construct?"
Kael forced a grin, lifting his chin. "What? No. I'm thinking about my next masterpiece."
She snorted. "Still not giving up, are you?" Then her expression shifted slightly. "Listen. Master sounds like she's planning to take us off the mountain."
Kael's pulse jumped.
He tuned back in just as Isara spoke.
"My three younger disciples have yet to leave the Peaks. It is time they gain experience. As for myself… it has been long since I last descended. I would not mind seeing the world again. What instructions does the Covenant have for me?"
Velda set down her cup.
"There are two matters."
Her tone had changed—weight settling into every word.
"First concerns the Dread Mire. Long ago, two kingdoms clashed there. One slaughtered four hundred thousand surrendered soldiers. Their resentment has never faded. Recently, corruption has begun to manifest—unnatural phenomena, restless dead. The Covenant suspects interference. You are to investigate."
Isara nodded slowly. "Four hundred thousand unresting dead… yes, that is no small matter. If something is feeding on that hatred…" Her eyes narrowed. "It could become catastrophic."
She paused.
"…But?"
Velda smiled faintly. "Go on."
Isara met her gaze. "That alone would not require me. Not while I guard the Primal Veil-Map and oversee the Dream Nest."
"Correct," Velda said. "That task is incidental."
Her eyes darkened.
"The second matter requires you specifically."
Isara inclined her head. "Then speak."
Velda asked, "Have you heard of the new Emperor of the Twin-Light Empire?"
"I have," Isara replied. "From my disciples who've traveled beyond the Peaks. He crowned himself Emperor Corvyn and immediately proclaimed ambitions rivaling the ancient conquerors. Before his throne had even warmed, he led campaigns against the northern tribes—bleeding the empire dry for the sake of glory."
Velda's expression hardened. "That is only the beginning. He is depraved—indulgent beyond restraint. After his campaigns, he scoured the land for women, filling his court with excess. He conscripted three hundred thousand laborers to build vast palaces—thirty-six in all—wasting lives and wealth alike."
Isara's voice cooled. "Rulers who abandon virtue rarely meet a good end."
"This matter concerns him directly," Velda said.
Isara frowned. "The Covenant does not interfere in mortal rule. The last time such lines were crossed, it led to the Ten-Thousand Ordeal."
Velda exhaled softly. "Ordinarily, we would let him destroy himself."
A pause.
"But… this touches too close to home."
Isara's gaze sharpened. "Explain."
Velda leaned forward slightly.
"Near Aureheim, the emperor has commissioned a new city—at its heart stands a structure called the Labyrinth Spire. Its construction alone would be meaningless."
Her voice dropped.
"But the Spire is no mere monument. It aligns with a Formation—one that is silently draining the essence of all nineteen ley-veins beneath the world."
The room froze.
Isara shot to her feet. "That's impossible!"
Then—
Understanding struck.
"…The Dream Nest," she whispered. "Its yield has been collapsing these past months. The Ghostlight Moss thinning with no cause I could find…"
Her eyes burned now.
"What Formation could possibly do this?"
Velda's answer came slowly.
"The Covenant has already sent multiple parties to investigate in secret. From what little we've confirmed…" She held Isara's gaze. "The Formation embedded within the Labyrinth Spire is none other than our forbidden art—"
"The Primal Boundless Array."
Shock rippled through the room.
"Our Formation?" Isara's voice sharpened. "Then why have I never heard of it?"
"Because you were not meant to," Velda replied. "I only learned of it recently myself."
She continued, her tone turning distant—reaching back into older history.
"It was not originally a Formation, but a cultivation method—the Primal Boundless Codex. A technique of endless transformation, said to have been created by the First Matriarch after comprehending an ancient artifact. Its purpose was simple—to draw in the essence of heaven and earth without limit."
"Later, the Covenant's Primus reshaped it into a Formation and installed it at Phoenixspur, allowing it to gather Aether continuously for the sacred grounds."
She paused.
"Then he sealed it."
"Why?" Isara asked quietly.
"Because it was too dangerous," Velda said. "Too predatory. It harmed the balance of the world—drained what should not be drained."
Silence pressed in.
"No one else was taught it," Velda went on. "Until… much later. There arose a prodigy of unparalleled talent within the Covenant. To that one individual alone, the Formation was secretly entrusted—"
Isara's breath stilled.
"A prodigy…" she murmured.
Her voice lowered.
"That person… could it be…"
Archon Velda of the Hearthpeak spoke with the weight of centuries behind her voice.
"That one is called one of the Three Supremes. First in martial skill. First in formations. First in the Artificer's Art…"
Isara Ashvane's composure cracked for a heartbeat. "Yvaine Trillance."
Velda inclined her head. "The same traitor."
Isara's thoughts raced, cold and precise. "Since she fled the Covenant, she's vanished without a trace. The Primus suspects the hidden array within the Labyrinth Spire is her work?"
"If it is the Primal Boundless Array," Velda said, "then there is no doubt."
She paused, then continued, voice turning more measured.
"Emperor Corvyn has recently taken a new concubine—calls herself the Emissary. Claims she fell from the heavens. She speaks of primordial augury, of moving mountains and drowning seas. The Emperor dotes on her, bends to her every whisper. The Labyrinth Spire was built at her urging… and its internal design is said to be of her own hand."
Isara's eyes sharpened. "Then this 'Emissary' is almost certainly Yvaine Trillance. The Primus wants her taken?"
"You are to go to Aureheim and investigate in secret," Velda said. "If it is her—capture her. If not—destroy the Spire."
Isara frowned faintly. "There are many in the Covenant stronger than I. Why send me?"
"There are some whose raw power rivals yours," Velda said, "but in martial skill? None here can stand against Yvaine."
Isara gave a quiet, humorless breath. "Then neither can I. Her Aether and raw force were never her strength—but if Arcane Treasures could suppress her, others might succeed."
"The trouble lies there," Velda said. "When she fled, she stole something from the Sanctum Vault."
Her eyes hardened.
"The Treasure-Dropping Coin. Once held by two ancient wanderers. A thing outside the order of all treasures. Any Arcane Treasure that meets it… fails. Even relics of the highest sanctums cannot resist it."
Kael Ashvane, listening from below, felt his skin itch with curiosity.
What was it made of? How was it forged? If he could make one—
Gods, he'd be unstoppable.
Isara fell into thought. "Her martial skill surpasses all. Now even treasures are useless against her… What remains?"
"The Primus has weighed every path," Velda said. "Only one hope remains—the Primal Veil-Map. And among your generation, only you can wield it. That is why you go."
Isara's brows drew together. "The Dream Nest draws predators from every shadow. If word spreads that the Veil-Map has left Vane's Summit…"
"They will not move," Velda said. "Before I came, the Primus entrusted me with several high relics. I will stand in your place and guard the Nest. And after our last campaign, the Fell hosts were broken badly. They will not dare act rashly—not yet."
Isara inclined her head. "With you watching over it, the Nest will stand."
She turned slightly, voice settling into command.
"I leave at dawn. I will pass through the Dread Mire first… then make for Aureheim."
—
Kael's heart slammed against his ribs.
He had never left Vane's Summit. The furthest he had ever gone was a shabby town at the foot of the Jade Peaks. The world beyond had lived in his mind like a fever dream.
Now—
Now it was real.
Would she take him?
Velda continued, "Yvaine Trillance is not merely unmatched in martial skill. Her mastery of formations and construct-work stands beside it. If the Emissary is truly her, few could even approach her alive. The Primus has ordered Lyra Farrow to accompany you."
Isara's gaze flickered briefly.
Lyra Farrow—the Primus' sole Closed-Door Disciple. Master of formations. Master of mechanisms.
If anyone in the Covenant could match Yvaine in those domains… it would be her.
Lyra stepped forward, bowed with easy grace, and smiled. "I'll rely on your guidance, Soror Isara."
Isara gave her a curt nod, frost in her eyes. Whatever history lay between them, it was not one of warmth.
Velda's voice cut through the air again.
"If the Emissary is Yvaine, this journey will be riddled with danger. Prepare accordingly."
Both women bowed. "Understood."
Velda turned to Isara once more. "Do you lack anything?"
"No," Isara replied. "Rest easy."
Then she looked down at her disciples.
"Return. Prepare your gear. At first light, you descend the mountain with me."
Kael nearly leapt where he knelt. He forced himself still, bowing low with the others as they withdrew.
—
Once they had gone, Lyra spoke lightly.
"May I ask something, Soror?"
Isara looked at her, expression unreadable.
Lyra smiled. "All your disciples seem to be girls… except that one. Why is Kael the exception?"
"I do not choose by sex," Isara said flatly. "Only by quality. Each of them bears an unusual affinity within the Five-Force Path. That is why they were accepted."
Lyra tilted her head. "You spoke at length about the others. But him… you said almost nothing."
Isara's voice cooled further. "Because he has no particular strengths worth mentioning."
Lyra made a soft sound of understanding, though something unreadable flickered behind her eyes.
Velda suddenly chuckled, the sound low and warm.
"That boy?" she said. "I think he'll amount to something yet."
—
After the midday meal, Kael was in his room, packing with restless hands, when a voice called from outside.
"Kael? You in there?"
He recognized it at once. "I'm here! Door's open!"
Zaeli's voice came back, bright and teasing. "Then come out. I've got good news."
Kael stepped outside. "What news?"
She grinned. "Depends. How are you thanking me?"
"Name your price after I hear it," he shot back. "Now talk."
"Milady's giving you a treasure."
Kael's voice trembled despite himself. "Really? Why me? You're not messing with me, are you?"
Zaeli nodded solemnly. "Of course I am. Don't follow me."
She turned and walked off.
Kael chased after her at once. "Hey—hey! Fine, I believe you! What is it?"
"You didn't believe me just now," she said, quickening her pace.
"I do now! Come on, tell me!"
"I don't know what it is," she said. "But it's definitely good. Soror Selene and Soror Mira already got theirs. They were over the moon."
Kael clenched his fists, grinning like a fool. "Where are we going?"
Zaeli suddenly stopped, leaning against a tree by the path, fanning her neck lazily.
"Hot," she murmured. "Too hot to walk."
Kael stared at her. "You're doing this on purpose."
She didn't answer.
"Fine," he said quickly. "I'll repay you properly later. Just—move."
"How properly?" she asked, gaze drifting elsewhere.
Kael scratched his head, then spotted a riot of wildflowers on a nearby slope. He dashed over, plucked a vivid bloom, and returned with a grin.
"A beauty for a beauty," he said. "Let me—"
He reached toward her hair.
Zaeli jerked her head away and swatted at him. "Get lost. Who wants that? No sincerity at all."
Kael panicked. "Then what do you want?"
Then he remembered something.
He fished into his robes and pulled out a translucent, deep-blue bracelet.
"Look at this," he said. "I made it myself. Took me three days using Ghostlight Moss essence. You can store a basic water-shift spell in it. I was going to trade it for materials…"
Zaeli took it, slid it onto her wrist.
A cool sensation spread instantly across her skin. The etched sigils along its surface shimmered with quiet elegance.
Her lips curved despite herself.
"Well… it's not bad," she said, pretending indifference. "Milady's waiting for you in the Brocade Pavilion."
"I'm going!" Kael vanished in a blur, the flower forgotten on the ground.
"Hey—wait—!" Zaeli stamped her foot, then stood there for a moment, pouting.
Then she looked down at the bracelet again.
Her expression softened, a small smile blooming at the corner of her lips.
—
Kael burst into the Brocade Pavilion, breath quick, eyes bright.
Isara Ashvane sat waiting.
He bowed deeply. "Master—I'm here."
She studied him in silence for a moment before speaking.
"Kael. You've lived on this mountain sixteen years. Do you wish to leave it?"
"Master," he said without hesitation, "I've dreamed of it."
She lifted her cup, took a slow sip of tea. "You've always been unruly. Taking you out… I have my doubts."
"I'll change," he said quickly. "I'll stay by your side. I won't cause trouble."
She let the silence stretch until it began to gnaw at him.
Then, at last, she nodded.
"Very well. I'll hold you to that."
Relief flooded him. "Yes, Master."
She gestured toward a long black case on the table.
"When your Elder Sorors left the mountain, I gifted each of them a weapon. Now that Selene, Mira… and you go as well, I will treat you equally."
She tapped the case lightly.
"What's inside should suit you. Take it."
Kael stepped forward and opened it.
Scarlet.
A length of vivid red coiled within, its surface alive with faint, shifting scale patterns. At the hilt, golden sigils gleamed.
His heart slammed.
He lifted it, unfurling its full length—over twenty feet of living weapon.
"A weapon?" he asked, voice tight. "Or a treasure?"
"A weapon," Isara said. "The Eight-Claw Flamescourge. Fire-aspected. It will resonate with your Sundering Flame Art and amplify your strikes."
Kael fed a thread of fire Vitae into it—
The whip snapped to life, erupting in a surge of crimson flame.
He flinched.
"Not here," Isara snapped.
He cut the flow instantly, staring at it in awe. "Gods… this is far better than the Ember-Chain. What is it made of?"
"A single sinew from an Eight-Claw Flamewyrm," she said, "and three hundred sixty of its scales."
Kael sucked in a breath.
That was no ordinary beast.
"The craftsman also refined the marrow of all eight limbs into it," she continued. "It burns—and it binds. Within the Covenant, it ranks among the finer weapons."
She then instructed him in its use—subtle shifts of grip, the rhythm of its extensions, how to let it coil like a living thing.
Kael absorbed it hungrily. He already excelled with the whip. This—
This was something else entirely.
He grinned, unable to stop himself. "Master… compared to Soror Auryn's Auric Manacle—how does this rank?"
"It stands above it," Isara said. "In skilled hands, it is formidable. In clumsy ones, worthless. With your current level… you will need at least five years to approach your First Soror."
Kael's grin only widened.
Five years?
He'd take that.
The joy spilled over.
He leapt forward and threw his arms around her. "Thank you, Master! You're the best—"
She didn't move.
Instead, with a subtle shift of stance, she flipped him cleanly onto the floor.
"You are no longer a child," she snapped. "If you behave like this outside—smiling, joking—I will send you back here. Three years facing a wall if I must."
Kael scrambled up, confused and stung. She hadn't been this angry before.
"…Understood," he muttered.
She exhaled, then said abruptly—
"Untie your sash."
He blinked. "…What?"
"Do it."
He obeyed, loosening his belt.
"Take off your trousers."
Her face remained cold—though the faintest trace of color touched her pale cheeks.
Kael froze.
Then, all at once, heat flooded his body.
A memory surfaced—one of those illicit books he'd bought in the town below.
His ears burned.