The moment Vanila vanished, the world didn't notice—but Serra did.
She awoke to a silence too deep, a quiet that made her blood run cold. She ran to his dorm room, Kael close behind, only to find the door half-open, the sheets undisturbed, a faint void shimmer hanging in the air like a ghost that hadn't finished leaving.
"He's gone," Serra whispered, fury rising beneath her breath."No magic residue. No trace of spell signatures," Kael added, running his ink-stained fingers across the floor. "But this…"He paused, touching the wall."Time magic. Distorted. Someone pulled him into a slow-field. He's not dead—he's… stuck."
Within hours, Solarion guards arrived at Dormis Arcana, cloaked in court colors, claiming to be "investigating an arcane breach."
They never asked questions.
They only watched.
They followed Serra and Kael. Spoke in whispers. Measured their talents. Smiled too tightly. Waited for them to be alone.
That night, while fleeing a pair of silent enforcers through the copper alleys behind the academy, Serra and Kael took a wrong turn—straight into a dead end.
Blades drawn behind them.Mana-chains clinking.No way out.
Until the wall... breathed.
A shimmer passed through the bricks. The alley peeled open, revealing a corridor made of mirage and moonlight, and a voice growled from within:
"If you want to find Vanila… run. Now."
They hesitated only for a blink. Then they ran.
The tunnel sealed behind them. The guards never saw where they vanished.
They emerged in a hidden canyon, surrounded by jagged cliffs and cloud-wrapped sky, where the wind howled but never touched the ground. A pocket reality suspended on the edge of vision, hidden behind mirage veils and illusion fields.
At its heart stood a crooked tower of silver scrap, wrapped in glowing runes and vines that hummed with protective wards.
There, waiting for them, was the man.
Tall. Weathered. A jagged scar ran from cheek to collarbone. His eyes—one human, the other gold—watched them with measured intensity. He wore armor older than both of them combined, scratched with Solarion insignia that had been burned out.
Exiled. Branded. Forgotten.
He didn't smile.
"My name is Caldreth Thorne, once Captain of the Royal Guard of Solarion. I was betrayed. I protected someone they feared.""Someone like Vanila?" Serra asked, fists clenched."Exactly like him," he said. "Someone with a Core that wasn't gifted, but born.""You mean—" Kael began."I mean," Caldreth interrupted, "the gods are waking. And so are their heirs. You two aren't just Vanila's friends. You're connected to the same storm."
He turned, walking deeper into the refuge. They followed.
Inside the tower, walls were lined with maps marked in glowing ink, sigils of divine resonance, sketches of Core sigils, timelines of ancient battles long erased from official records.
Caldreth gestured to a chalk-drawn circle on the floor—twelve symbols surrounding a blank center.
"These are the god-lines. Faint but real. Each tied to a mortal. Some dormant. Some hunted. You…" he looked at Serra and Kael, "…are marked. Just like Vanila.""Why didn't he tell us?" Serra murmured."Because he doesn't know yet. The Cores chose him first, but he wasn't meant to be alone."
He faced them now, solemn.
"The court is silencing god-bearers. One by one. And Vanila? They've locked him in a Poor Time Chamber—slowed, sealed, and forgotten. They think it'll break him."
Serra's blood turned hot.
Kael's ink began to swirl across his skin.
"Can we find him?" Kael asked."You can do more than that," Caldreth said. "You can wake him. But first, I'll need to awaken your own bloodlines. The divine cores sleep in you, too."