Rain pounded the tower's roof like war drums.
Kael stood by the window, cloak wrapped tight, watching the forest line beyond his lab flicker with arcane blue. The Royal trackers were close now—less than five minutes, if LUMA's calculations were correct.
Below him, Elyra still lay unconscious, but her color had returned, and her breathing was steady. Kael's anti-curse injector had worked better than expected. Still, her mana was leaking—like a beacon in the dark.
"They'll find her easily," Kael muttered, strapping on a metal bracer over his left wrist.
"I've deployed the drone to create a false mana trail," LUMA said. "But it'll only buy you a few minutes."
"Then I'll make those minutes count."
He reached under his worktable and lifted the Arc-Bow prototype. It didn't look like much: sleek steel frame, reinforced with alchemically-treated glass and a central coil that crackled with condensed kinetic energy. It wasn't designed to kill—not yet—but it could knock a grown man across a courtyard.
With some luck, that would be enough.
"LUMA, stay with Elyra. If I don't come back in ten minutes, hide the tower. Activate the perimeter fog."
"Kael—are you sure about this? These are trained mages."
Kael loaded the Arc-Bow and smiled bitterly. "They're trained to fight magic. Not me."
He left the tower through the side hatch, slipping into the mist.
---
In the clearing beyond the tower, six riders emerged—robes soaked, eyes glowing. Their mounts were made of summoned bone and light, a rare conjuring only elite Enforcers could maintain.
One of them dismounted. His cloak bore a silver phoenix—a symbol of the Royal Spellguard.
"She's here," the mage said. His hand hovered, and a glowing glyph spun above his palm. "I can smell her mana on the wind."
Another stepped forward. "I heard this tower belongs to Kael the Null. The cursed genius."
The leader chuckled. "Just a ghost story."
"That's what they said about the Demon of Mirvale," came Kael's voice from the trees. "And you should see what he turned into."
Six heads snapped toward him—but it was too late.
Kael triggered the Arc-Bow from the shadows. A bolt of compressed force fired silently—striking one of the horses in the side. It shattered like glass, sending its rider flying into a tree.
"Null tech!" the leader shouted. "He's using non-magic!"
They tried to form a barrier—typical spellcaster response.
Kael rolled out from behind a tree, firing again. The Arc-Bow hissed, a second bolt slamming into the ground at their feet. This one erupted in a cloud of metallic chaff—tiny fragments designed to interfere with mana frequency.
Their barrier sputtered.
"NOW!" Kael shouted, triggering a pulse bomb.
A second device—disguised as a fallen rock—detonated with a flash of electromagnetic light. The result wasn't deadly—but devastating to mages. Their spell links were severed. One screamed as his summoning glyph dissolved mid-chant.
Kael moved fast, clocking the disoriented mage with the butt of his bow. Two down.
But now the leader had recovered.
"You think tricks can save you, Null?" he snarled, drawing a silver wand.
Kael ducked behind a tree as a fireball roared past. He checked the Arc-Bow's coil—overheating. One more shot before cooldown.
He popped out, aimed—and fired straight at the wand.
The force bolt hit dead-on. The wand exploded in the mage's hand, sending sparks and smoke everywhere.
"ARGH!"
Kael didn't wait. He lunged forward, slammed the leader with a shock-glove, and dropped him cold.
Only two mages remained.
But something was wrong.
They weren't attacking.
They were chanting.
"Oh no…" Kael whispered.
A dark pulse erupted from their palms—Shadow Bind, a forbidden art. Chains of pure void energy lunged from the ground, wrapping around Kael's legs. He struggled, but it was like being trapped in frozen tar.
One of the mages stepped forward, bleeding from the ear. "You're clever, boy. But clever doesn't beat bloodlines."
"Funny," Kael grunted, "neither do broken noses."
The mage raised his hand—and suddenly froze.
Not by choice.
A shard of frozen magic pierced his shoulder from behind. He dropped to his knees, gasping, his spell dissolving.
Behind him stood Elyra—awake, injured, but eyes blazing with fury. Her hair shimmered with crackling mana as she raised her hand again.
Kael used the distraction to finish off the last one, freeing himself with a small shock from his backup gauntlet.
When the field was finally silent, Kael turned to her.
"You shouldn't be standing."
"I'm a Vexen," she muttered. "We don't die that easy."
He offered her his shoulder. "Let's get back inside."
---
Back in the tower, Kael sealed the entrance and activated the cloaking array. LUMA helped Elyra to the bench while Kael recharged the Arc-Bow.
Elyra looked around, amazed.
"This… this place. You built all of this without a single spell?"
He nodded. "Just gears, circuits, and caffeine."
She laughed softly, then winced. "I should have come here sooner. My father wouldn't believe this place even existed."
Kael frowned. "You said the Council lied about magic. What did you mean?"
Elyra's expression darkened. "They don't want anyone to know that magic… isn't infinite. The aether is dying, Kael. Slowly. But it's fading. And when it runs out—"
"No one will be able to cast," he finished. "But people like me… we'll survive."
She nodded. "That's why they're scared of you. Because you prove there's another way."
Kael looked down at his hands—grease-covered, bruised, steady.
"They want to keep the world in chains," Elyra said, voice trembling. "But I want to break them."
He met her gaze.
"Then you came to the right tower."