The days inside Drift Hollow bled together—less a refuge, more a forge. Kael had no interest in rest. Not while the truth hummed under his fingertips. Every hour was a lesson in forgotten mastery, every page a rejection of the world that cast him out.
This place was more than a hiding spot. It was transformation.
He sat cross-legged beneath a ring of floating books, threads of glowing glyphs circling his hands. They flickered, shifted, then snapped into alignment.
A quiet pulse echoed through the cavern.
"Again," Kael muttered. "More stable this time."
He redrew the diagram, using Pulse Logic, weaving an enhanced version of a Talent's shield—but one learned, not granted.
Behind him, Lia watched, wrapped in a cloak. Tired, but trying to understand.
"How can you keep doing that without burning out?"
Kael didn't answer immediately.
"Because I'm not casting like they do. Talents channel. Learners construct."
He looked over his shoulder.
"We build our power like bridges. Every brick placed with intent."
---
Elsewhere in the Vault...
Seren stood before a sealed alcove, her hand hovering over a stone tablet etched with her family crest.
The Royal Crest.
It had been embedded here centuries before. Proof that even the old kings knew of this place.
She touched it.
Mana surged. The glyph flickered.
And a message played.
A man's voice. Old, but familiar.
> "To my daughters. If you find this, it means the world has turned again. One of you will betray the other. One of you will save the kingdom. But both will suffer. That is the curse of truth."
Her hand dropped.
Seren clenched her jaw. "You knew this would happen, Father."
---
The Test
Back in the main chamber, Kael stepped onto the stone platform at the center. The glowing glyph ring stabilized around him. Dozens of simulated spell arrays projected into the air.
He had built a prototype: a hybrid spellform, one capable of intercepting divine glyphs and rewriting their logic mid-cast.
"This could neutralize a Talent's power," he said aloud.
Seren raised an eyebrow. "And kill you if the timing's off by a second."
Kael smirked. "Which is why we test."
He extended his hand.
Glyphs surged around him—Learner logic humming in harmony, layered with spirals of inverted Talent flow. The magic shimmered like a prism under stress.
Then—he activated it.
A flash. A crack of light.
Kael grunted and dropped to one knee. Mana scorched across his arm, but the array held.
The projection shattered.
But the glyph core remained floating—rewritten.
Lia gasped. "You... changed a Talent's glyph mid-flight."
Kael looked up, sweat on his brow.
"I reprogrammed it."
---
A Summons from the Shadows
That night, as Kael slept, Seren stood watch.
Until something shifted.
From the edge of the hollow, a ripple shimmered through the air—and then a figure stepped out of a shadow-portal, cloaked in robes darker than the sea.
He wore no insignia, but his presence oozed authority.
Seren's hand went to her blade.
"I should kill you for showing your face," she said.
The man chuckled. "And yet, you haven't."
"Why are you here?"
He pulled back his hood. A face like carved obsidian. Familiar. Regal. Dangerous.
"I bring word from the Third Branch."
Seren's expression turned cold. "That group is dead."
"Not quite. We've been watching the boy. Kael."
She said nothing.
The man stepped closer. "Your sister's allies move to crown a new Archflame. If that happens, every border will be closed. Every archive purged."
"And what do you want me to do?"
"Finish what your father started."
Seren's eyes narrowed. "You want me to burn the system down?"
He smiled thinly. "No. I want you to give it to someone who can rebuild it."
He glanced deeper into the cavern—toward Kael.
"Teach him to lead, Seren. Or kill him now."