The training grounds of Azure Dawn were alive with morning light. Rows of recruits sparred beneath banners stitched in silver and blue, their movements sharp, their voices echoing with discipline.
For the first time since arriving, Nelly, Nathan, Courage, and Divine were not set apart—they blended among dozens of others, each carrying the spark of a Pathway.
"Keep your stance firm!" barked Instructor Rhyse, a veteran whose right arm was plated with shimmering ether-steel. His eyes narrowed at Courage, who was grinning as he pressed Nathan backward in a sparring drill. "Strength means nothing if your balance is a joke!"
Nathan stumbled, catching himself with a flash of light sparking at his fingertips. Courage only laughed harder.
"You call that balance? You're lighter than a leaf, Nate."
"Better than being a rock-headed brute," Nathan shot back, a faint glow trailing from his fists.
Nearby, Divine practiced with ink and parchment, his quill leaving glowing runes midair. Every stroke hovered before fading into nothingness. His brow furrowed, his calm demeanor never slipping, though sweat gathered at his temples.
Nelly watched him, shadows flickering faintly along his arm. He couldn't explain why, but seeing Divine's meticulous focus steadied him—like watching someone wrestle with chains that mirrored his own.
Ellisar observed them from the balcony above, arms crossed. He exchanged a glance with another robed figure beside him—Mistress Elayne, head of Azure Dawn's research division.
"They're adapting quickly," she murmured. "Too quickly. You feel it as well, don't you? The resonance."
Ellisar's jaw tightened. "Yes. And the resonance cuts both ways. The deeper they awaken, the closer the Cult will move."
⸻
Evenings in Azure Dawn were less rigorous. The four often found themselves in the dining hall, seated at a worn oak table. The hall was filled with voices, laughter, and the clatter of plates—mundane life amidst extraordinary power.
One night, Courage slammed his cup down and declared:
"When this is over, I'm going to be remembered as the strongest Pathwalker alive."
Nathan groaned, smirking despite himself. "You mean the most stubborn."
Divine didn't lift his gaze from his book. "Strength remembered without wisdom is only tragedy repeated."
Courage blinked. "…Why do you always have to sound like you're quoting something, man?"
Nelly chuckled quietly. He didn't speak much during these dinners, but moments like these anchored him—moments where the shadows inside him grew quiet.
⸻
Not all was peaceful within Azure Dawn. Politics stirred beneath the surface.
At a council session, the four were permitted to observe. Masters and scholars debated in sharp tones—how to allocate resources, whether to take a more aggressive stance against the Cult, whether training initiates in forbidden arts was a risk worth bearing.
Nelly listened intently. It was the first time he realized Azure Dawn was not a monolith of guidance, but a collection of flawed, determined individuals—fractured, yet united against a greater shadow.
And in the corner of the council chamber, he saw Ellisar watching him. Not the others. Him.
⸻
But far across the land, beneath the ruined catacombs where no light touched, the Cult did not sleep.
The crimson-masked leader sat before an altar of writhing shadows. Around him, the Harbingers knelt—figures cloaked in shifting darkness, each bearing marks carved into their flesh.
"They grow bold in the Dawn," the leader intoned. "Then we shall tear away their illusions. Let them believe in safety, in bonds, in light. We shall shatter it."
The Harbingers raised their heads, eyes gleaming with inhuman fire.
"We will move at dusk. Their peace will not last."
The torches snuffed out. Only whispers remained.