The summons came at dawn.
Saphine, Eris, Aerin, and Meline stood in the Headmistress' private chamber — a vast room lined with shelves of ancient tomes and suspended spheres of glowing ink, each one recording echoes of the past. The air here was heavy, the very stone imbued with centuries of echoes.
Professor Raukher Myr sat behind her obsidian desk, her posture upright, her crimson hair tied into a tight braid. Her eyes — sharp, hawklike — scanned each of them in turn before settling on Saphine.
"So. The rumors are true." Her voice was low but carried a weight that made the chamber feel smaller. "Far Cry has awakened."
Saphine shifted nervously, the gauntlets still faintly visible on her hands. She wanted to speak, but Raukher raised a hand to silence her.
"I am not here to reprimand you," she said coolly. "The wards contained the damage. The only casualties were the courtyard's sigils — which can be restored." Her gaze sharpened, her tone turning grave. "But the resonance of your awakening was not contained. Already, I have received reports of disturbances from beyond these walls. The Peaks will know. And so will those who wish them destroyed."
Aerin bristled, but kept silent. Meline crossed her arms, her usual smirk absent.
"And Janus?" Eris asked. His voice was steady, unreadable.
Raukher's lips thinned. "Gone. He did not come here alone, but for now his trail ends at the boundary. I will not pretend this does not disturb me — his presence means the academy's protections are more fragile than I imagined. Still—" Her gaze swept back to Saphine. "Far Cry is yours now. Guard it well. You will not have the luxury of anonymity any longer."
The meeting ended with no ceremony. They were dismissed, left with more unease than answers.
That evening, the city below the academy was alive with festival lights. Lanterns floated along the rivers, music drifted through the squares, and vendors called out beneath banners. To anyone else, it was just another celebration night.
To Saphine, it was the first time she found herself alone with Eris.
He walked at her side, hands in his pockets, glasses reflecting the glow of passing lanterns. His presence was oddly calming, though silence stretched between them like a taut string.
Saphine finally broke it. "…In the memories I saw. When the fragment recorded you."
Eris glanced at her, one brow raised.
"They weren't complete," she continued, her words tumbling out faster than she expected. "It spanned… years. Centuries. More than any life should. And yet it ended before I could understand." She turned to him, her eyes searching his. "Who are you, really?"
For a long moment, Eris said nothing. Then he sighed, slipping his hands free. With a snap of his fingers, the air around them shimmered. A translucent dome of silence fell over the street. The chatter, the music, the laughter — all vanished. They stood in perfect stillness.
Saphine's breath caught. "An isolation barrier…"
Black mist coiled around Eris' body, rolling upward like smoke. His silhouette shifted. His dark hair turned silver-white, cascading loosely over his shoulders. The glasses vanished. And where Eris once stood was a tall figure clad in shadow-traced garments, a white mask concealing the upper half of his face.
His presence was different. The calm detachment of the student bodyguard was gone. Instead, there was something vast, ancient, and unfathomably sharp.
And yet… Saphine knew. It was still him.
He tilted his head slightly, his masked gaze locking onto her. His voice, though unchanged, carried a weight that felt like it came from across centuries.
"You've seen glimpses of me. You already know the years in my shadow. The question is…"
He stepped closer, the barrier around them trembling faintly with his movement.
"Do you truly want to know me?"
Saphine's throat tightened. The fragments she'd seen — battlefields turned to ash, kingdoms rising and falling, moments of solitude so long they burned — all returned in a flash. She hesitated, fear curling in her chest. But beneath it was something else: the need to understand the one who had stood between her and death without hesitation.
She nodded, firm despite the tremor in her voice. "Yes. I want to know who you really are."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then, slowly, Eris reached up. His fingers brushed the edge of the mask.
"You've chosen, then."
He pulled it free.
The mask dissolved into dust, carried away by the black mist. His face was revealed — the same features she had known, but stripped of the mundane guise. His hair shone white as moonlight, his eyes clear and ancient, depths that no mortal lifetime could contain.
Saphine felt her breath leave her chest.
This was not Eris Vale, the student. This was someone older, someone who had watched the world longer than any being had the right to.
And yet he smiled, faintly, as though he found some amusement in her shock.
"Then look well, Saphine. This is who I am."