The Watchers returned at dawn.
They emerged from the mist without sound, without warning, as if the forest itself had decided to send them. Their forms were unchanged, tall, fluid, faceless, but their presence had shifted. Heavier. More focused.
Kael sensed them first. Though still too weak to summon magic, his perception had grown sharper since the spell. He woke before Elira did, his eyes fixed on the shifting veil outside the ruin.
When she rose and joined him, they said nothing at first. Words felt too small.
Then one of the Watchers stepped closer.
Its voice entered their minds, not piercing this time, but woven like silk.
"The thread has awakened."
Elira tensed. "What thread?"
Another Watcher responded, its thought colder. "What was lost. What was severed. What now stirs."
The twins began to stir in their sleep.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Why are you here?"
The Watchers did not move.
Then the first spoke again. "The realm recognizes what is born. The realm prepares."
Elira stepped forward. "For what?"
Silence.
Then,
"Training."
Kael tried to rise. Failed.
"Not for you," the Watcher added. "Not yet."
A flicker passed between them all, not light but something older.
Kael's hand clenched. "I can't wield magic anymore."
"No," the Watcher agreed. "But you can survive it."
And with that, it extended a hand, long, fluid, translucent, and pressed it gently to Kael's forehead.
Elira shouted. "Wait, !"
Kael gasped.
Then collapsed, body convulsing.
Elira tried to reach him, but another Watcher blocked her path.
"He must pass through it," the voice said.
Kael's eyes rolled back.
And the Lower Realm welcomed him in.