Not with light, but with something deeper—essence flux, they called it. Residue of rewritten fate.He looked... otherworldly.And maybe that was the problem.“You’ve been watching him for twenty minutes.”The voice came from behind. Aria, of course. Always appearing when Sarah least wanted it.“I’m allowed to,” Sarah replied calmly, but tension seeped into her voice.Aria walked forward, her coat flaring with subtle blue runes—defense markings. She had just returned from interfacing with the Vanguard’s mirror archives.“You’re allowed to,” Aria said. “But do you actually understand what you're watching?”Sarah turned. “I know Samuel better than—”“No,” Aria cut in, eyes sharp. “You feel like you do. That’s not the same.”Sarah folded her arms. “You’re jealous.”Aria tilted her head. “Maybe. But I’m also honest. And you need to ask yourself something.”“What?”Aria stepped closer.“If Samuel’s essence was rewritten by the Archive, the Veil, and the Originators... how do you know your l

Dawn dragged its pale light across the Sanctuary ridge as Aria moved through archways stained by centuries. Memory blossoms shimmered on glass walls, reacting to the new daylight. She paused before the central archive door—a lattice of shifting glyphs—and pressed her hand to its cold surface.She sighed. Samuel would never approve. Yet right now, he was fractured—haunted by his mother’s echo, torn between Sarah and Aria’s own earnest longing.Enough of standing aside.Two hours earlier.Aria had watched him and Sarah in the meditation garden—two souls weaving cautious reconciliation. The sight burned her. Not anger—something harder. Resolve.She touched her neck—a rune-like scar pulsing blue beneath her skin. She exhaled: she needed to act.Aria whispered the Archive counter-sigil that only an insider would know. Symbols glowed. A small panel slid open.Inside lay The Key Fragment—a crystalline shard etched with Gate sigils.She took it, placed it into a leather pouch.“Sorry, Samuel.

A low haze drifted across Sanctuary’s courtyard, wrapping around crystal pylons that stored Veil‑light. The Vanguard stood on opposing sides: on one flank, Aria, Sarah, and Samuel—their icon of unity glowing softly. On the other, Joey and a faction of weary operatives, with grim expressions and crossed arms.This was not training.This was war.Samuel’s voice carried across the courtyard:“You cannot force peace through cryptic compacts.”Joey’s voice countered:“You can’t force purity when people are dying!”Flashback: During the darkest nights of the assault on IMA, a group of veterans smuggled intel that collaborating with IMA could open new safe zones for rescued children. They brought it to Joey, pleading for conditional treaties—further support from IMA in exchange for peace.That faction gained momentum as rescue demands grew. Conflict simmered.Back to present.Sarah stepped forward:“Stop this—please.”But echo died.Aria raised her hand:“We were betrayed by power, not princ

The Sanctuary’s central chamber thrummed with old-energy and new purpose. Moonlight filtered through the high windows, catching dust motes and casting ethereal patterns across the floor. It was quiet, except for the soft hum of arcane crystals embedded in the walls—a living reminder of how close Sanctuary’s foundations lay to the realm beyond.Samuel stood at the center, arms extended, eyes closed. Sarah, Aria, Joey, and Lioran circled him, watching in tense silence. They had gathered at his request, sensing revelation in the midnight air.No words were spoken—none were needed.Samuel inhaled, drawing air through memories and mixted mana until his aura shifted. Where it had been fractured and flickering, now something steadied it—clean, ancestral power.Around his heart glowed the First Flame Matron glyph, etched into his flesh, humming with unseen warmth.He whispered softly:“Inheritance Pulse.”The runic crystal beneath his foot glowed, shards of living light cascading outward in r

The wind screamed across the jagged cliffs of Tibet, carrying whispers from an age the world had long tried to forget. Snow spiraled in slow, deliberate arcs, casting the mountain pass in an eerie quietness. In the distance, a dark line of figures approached—silent, hooded, resolute. The Vanguard had arrived.Samuel walked at the front of the line, his silver cloak rippling behind him like a banner of forgotten rebellion. His eyes, now iridescent with fractal light, scanned the path ahead. The energy in the air was shifting—an ancient signal pulsing through his veins, like a beacon guiding him toward something that defied language.“Are you sure this is it?” Joey asked, drawing up beside him, gloved fingers tightening around his blaster staff. “Feels like walking into a tomb.”Aria, trailing just behind, answered before Samuel could. “It’s not a tomb. It’s a keyhole. And it’s waiting.”Samuel narrowed his eyes. “Waiting for what?”“You,” Aria said softly.There was silence after that.