The Astral Belt stretched below the citadel like a swirling ocean of silver dust, its waves shifting with every distant star pulse. At the very center of that shining sea floated a towering structure of black stone and shimmering metal. It rose like a spear aimed at the heavens, held in place by enormous gravity-anchors that glowed with blue runes. The air around it vibrated with pressure, as if reality itself respected the weight of the power seated inside. This was the Plane-Harvest Council Citadel.Inside its highest chamber, nine tall chairs formed a perfect circle. Each chair belonged to a Tower faction that ruled over the ley-grid. The chamber itself had no ceiling. Instead, a vast dome of transparent mana allowed the stars to be seen as if they were pressed right against the glass. When one star flickered, the chamber dimmed. When another brightened, the runes underfoot glowed.Nine cloaked figures sat in silence. Their breaths were calm. But the air around them thrummed w

The plane was quiet when Caster stepped through the gate of inverted light. It closed behind him with a soft hiss, leaving a faint shimmer that faded into the air. The world around him smelled like dry pages and old ink. The sky was pale and motionless, almost like a sheet of paper left under the sun. Rivers of dark ink flowed in slow waves across the ground, and tall trees with parchment leaves rustled without wind.Caster took one slow breath. The air tasted faintly of knowledge and forgotten stories.Eidric’s voice murmured from somewhere inside the crystal shard at Caster’s side. “You picked a strange graveyard to visit,” the voice said, half amused, half tired.Caster touched the shard hanging at his belt. “It is not a graveyard,” he said under his breath. “It is the Archive Wastes. If anyone knows how to hide from the Council, they live here.”Eidric whispered back. “Or they will kill you for bringing trouble.”Caster ignored the comment and began walking. His body was still w

The campfire crackled softly in the center of the Archive Wastes, a tiny warm glow against the cold, shifting night. The sky above the group rippled with streaks of pale silver light. It looked like the sky was made of torn pages fluttering in the wind. Every few seconds, a long ripple rolled across it, like someone was turning an invisible scroll.Caster sat beside the fire with the data ledger resting on his knees. The Spellbound crest still glimmered faintly on the cover. He had not opened it again since retrieving it from the collapsing relay station. His fingers hovered over the edge of the ledger as if afraid the metal might bite him.Sethra watched him quietly from across the fire. Brann tinkered with a half-broken sigil gear in silence. Miren sat closest to Caster, her sightless eyes glowing softly in the firelight as she listened to the distant hum of the Wastes.None of them spoke for a long time. The air felt heavy with the weight of what they had taken. Finally, Caster

The sky above the dead plane was gray and silent, like a sheet of cold metal stretched across a forgotten world. Ardis Valen stepped through the thin crack of a dying rift and landed on dust that once held life. The ground gave a soft crunch beneath his boots. Ash rose in a slow swirl, drifting in circles before settling again.He scanned the horizon. Empty. Shattered. Abandoned. A perfect place for a ghost.Ardis tightened his grip on the tracking device strapped to his forearm. The screen pulsed with faint blue light, showing traces of a mana signature he had been following for daysA signature the Council insisted did not exist. Caster Spellbound.Ardis exhaled, long and slow. “This should not be possible. You should be dead.”The wind shifted, carrying the echo of distant thunder. The dead plane groaned as if remembering old pain. Ardis stepped forward, cloak dragging a thin line behind him. His eyes remained locked on the glowing trace.It felt like guilt. It felt like hope. I

The moment Caster stepped through the unstable rift, the world spun sideways. He fell forward onto ground that did not feel like ground. It shifted like soft clay and rippled beneath his palms. The air smelled like metal and burning ink. Above him, the sky tore itself apart in long spirals of red, gold, and black, each color crashing into the other like storms locked in a fight.Sethra stumbled next to him, dropping to one knee as her satchel spilled glowing parchment. Brann crashed onto his back with a groan. Miren stood upright the instant she arrived, her staff pressed against the ground as if she were standing on calm earth rather than a living tempest.Caster pushed himself up and scanned the plane. The Bleeding Aether. It was worse than he expected.The sky was not single but a cracked dome of swirling storms. Razor-thin shards of light hung suspended like frozen lightning. The ground curved unevenly, rising in slopes that moved under his feet. Every breath he took echoed in