The study felt like a cage. Kaelen paced its length, the plush rug doing little to muffle the restless energy thrumming through him. He had tried to sit, to meditate, to do anything that resembled his old life, but the memories of the vision and the press of alien knowledge made stillness impossible. The Aethelgard legacy was a storm in his mind, and he was its eye.
He stopped before the polished obsidian slab that served as his personal scrying mirror. Today, he wasn't gazing into distant lands or consulting with other mages. Instead, his fingers traced glowing, three-dimensional patterns in the air, sketching schematics that defied conventional magical geometry. The dimensional resonance scanner—or as the Aethelgard termed it with their characteristic clinical precision, a 'Void-Ward'—required an artistry that made even the Royal Enchanter's finest work look like a child's doodle.
Celestial bronze. The thought was a clear, sharp note in the cacophony of his mind. Not the common bronze used for ceremonial swords and decorative plaques, but bronze that had been alloyed under the light of a specific celestial alignment, its molecular structure subtly altered by focused starlight. He had three small ingots, a precious inheritance from his late master. Each was worth a fortune, and each was irreplaceable. I'll need to melt this with concentrated moonlight. No conventional forge can generate the necessary frequency. The Aethelgard knowledge provided the method—a ritual of light and intent—but performing it would be like performing heart surgery after only reading a book.
He was so engrossed in calculating the refractive index required for the void-touched crystal lens that he didn't hear the door open. Lyra's voice, carefully controlled, broke his concentration. "You're using grandfather's bronze?"
Kaelen didn't turn, his focus locked on the shimmering schematic. "It's the only material in this world that can hold the dimensional frequencies we need to detect." The 'we' slipped out, a habit born of a decade of partnership. The word felt like a lie even as he said it. The path ahead, he knew with a sickening certainty, would lead him away from their exclusive partnership. The vision showed her fighting beside him, yes, but it also showed others standing as equals beside her. The conflict was a cold knot in his stomach.
"What are you building, Kaelen?" Lyra moved closer, her steps silent on the rug. Her eyes, sharp and analytical, traced the glowing, impossible angles of the schematic. "These geometries... they're beautiful, but they're wrong. The angles don't follow the natural law of magical conduction. They should collapse."
His fingers deftly expanded a section of the schematic, revealing nested patterns within patterns. "That's because they follow deeper laws. The Aethelgard understood that space isn't a smooth canvas. It has a texture, a grain, like wood. The Void Weavers don't move through it; they move against that grain. They tear it. This device..." he tapped a central, pulsating node in the air, "...will feel the tearing."
He's speaking with absolute certainty. As if he's studied this for a lifetime, not a single night. Lyra's analytical mind, her greatest asset, was now her greatest source of torment as it warred with a deep, instinctual concern. And he won't look at me. Not truly. It's like he's already halfway to another world, and I'm just a ghost in this one.
Kaelen finally turned away from the schematic, the glowing lines fading slightly. He saw the unspoken questions, the fear she was trying so hard to mask behind a scholar's curiosity. "I need to go to the Starfall Caverns," he stated, his tone leaving no room for discussion. "The void-touched crystal only grows there, and the lunar alignment for its harvest is tonight."
"The Caverns are forbidden, Kaelen." Her voice held a note of desperation now. "The Royal Decree was signed after the last expedition vanished. It's considered a place of death."
"The decree was written by men who didn't understand what they were forbidding," he countered, moving to his reinforced workbench and beginning to gather tools—a silver hammer, a prism of pure quartz, several empty focusing crystals. "The 'cursed' energy that drives men mad is just a resonant frequency our magic isn't designed to process. The crystals themselves are harmless... to those who know how to handle them."
He's different. Not just determined—reckless. Driven. It's like he's racing against a hourglass only he can see. Lyra watched his efficient, purposeful movements, a cold dread settling in her heart. "Then I'm coming with you."
"No." The word was a blade, sharp and final. He saw her flinch, the hurt flashing in her eyes before she could bury it, and he forced himself to soften his tone. "The ambient energies there... they're dangerous to anyone without the specific mental shields. The Aethelgard knowledge gave me those shields. I haven't had time to develop a way to extend them to you."
It was another lie, a shield of his own making. The truth, seared into his memory by the vision, was that Lyra accompanied him in one possible timeline. In that version, she suffered a minor cut from a crystal shard that became infected with a lingering void-energy, a corruption that nearly claimed her life before he could find the antidote in the Aethelgard medical texts. He would not risk that. He could not.
"Your shields can protect me too," she insisted, her pride as a capable mage evident in her stance. "We've combined our defenses before against spiritual parasites and mind-worms. This is no different."
"It is completely different," he said, his voice low and intense as he finally met her gaze fully. "This is not a creature of this world, Lyra. This is the echo of something that eats worlds. Trust me. This is the one thing I am certain of—you cannot come to the Caverns."
The finality in his voice stunned her into silence. He had never spoken to her with such absolute, unyielding authority. It was the voice he used with stubborn apprentices or arrogant nobles, never with her. She simply nodded, the hurt now a quiet, settled thing in her eyes as he swept past her and out of the room, his pack of tools slung over his shoulder.
***
The Starfall Caverns were a jagged scar on the face of the world, a series of deep fissures and tunnels formed by a meteor impact millennia ago. The very air around the entrance hummed with a dissonant energy that set teeth on edge. Most mages felt a profound sense of unease, a nagging headache that grew into nausea the deeper they went. Kaelen, stepping across the invisible boundary, felt the Aethelgard knowledge within him stir not with alarm, but with recognition.
The walls of the main tunnel glittered with embedded crystals that pulsed with a soft, internal light, their rhythm subtly syncing with his own heartbeat. Void-touched indeed. They're resonating with the background frequencies of dimensional space. They're like... antennae. No wonder they were considered cursed—they were passively picking up psychic transmissions from dead civilizations and dying stars.
His destination was the Heartstone Chamber, a place mentioned only in the most terrified whispers of the few survivors of early expeditions. According to the Aethelgard schematics—and the horrifically clear memory from his vision—he needed a primary resonator crystal at least the size of his fist, perfectly clear and with a specific resonant signature. The vision had shown him exactly where to find it, a memory accompanied by the ghost-sensation of Lyra's cry of pain and the sight of her blood on the sharp stone.
He moved with an unnerving purpose, his steps guided by an internal map that should not exist. The caverns were a notorious labyrinth, a place where compasses failed and spatial senses lied, claiming the lives of dozens of experienced explorers and miners. To Kaelen, however, the path was as clear as a paved road. The Aethelgard spatial awareness techniques, which treated obstacles and distances as mutable suggestions, made navigation trivial.
The Heartstone Chamber took his breath away. It was a vast, domed space, and from floor to ceiling grew crystals of immense size, their violet light casting deep, shifting shadows. The air itself seemed to vibrate, filled with a silent, crystalline choir. In the very center of the chamber was the main crystal cluster, a magnificent structure that resembled a forest of frozen light. And there, at its base, partly buried in mineral sediment, was the crystal he sought. It was larger than his fist, flawlessly clear, and it thrummed with the distinct, sharp frequency he needed.
As he reached for it, a voice, dry and sharp as a whip crack, echoed through the chamber. "I knew your newfound... interests... would lead you here, Archmage."
Kaelen turned, his hand pausing inches from the crystal. Loremaster Theron stood at the chamber's only entrance, his ancient frame looking frail but his presence formidable. He was not alone. Two Royal Guards in polished silver armor flanked him, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, their faces grim.
"The Starfall Caverns," Theron said, his voice dripping with disapproval. "Forbidden by royal decree. And seeking out void-crystals? You, of all people, know the penalties for trafficking in dark artifacts and breaching sealed lands."
Kaelen's mind raced, analyzing the situation with a cold, detached clarity that was itself a product of his new knowledge. This was not in the vision. His actions had already altered the timeline. The Theron of his vision had been a skeptical but passive observer. This Theron was an active antagonist. "These are not dark artifacts, Loremaster," Kaelen replied, keeping his voice calm, though every instinct screamed at him to grab the crystal and run. "They are components. Tools we will desperately need sooner than you can imagine."
Theron's eyes narrowed to slits. "Your sudden, profound expertise in forbidden lore concerns the Council. First, you decipher the undecipherable slate in an afternoon. Now, you boldly enter a place of death to retrieve 'components'. The Kaelen I knew was a man of law and order. He would never so flagrantly break a royal decree for mere 'research'."
"The Kaelen you knew didn't understand that our laws and our very reality are about to be tested," Kaelen countered, his gaze flicking between the two guards, assessing their stances, the quality of their magical auras. They were skilled, but their defenses were simplistic, based on brute-force barrier magic. He could disable them in a dozen different ways using Aethelgard principles, but that would brand him a traitor and a fugitive. The alternative—going peacefully—meant days, possibly weeks, of imprisonment and interrogation while the Void Weavers drew closer. The vision of a cold cell, of precious time slipping away, of Lyra and the others facing the first attacks without him, was a potent deterrent.
The decision was made for him when the guard on the right drew a mana-suppression collar from his belt, the cold iron gleaming in the violet light. The vision flashed again, more potent, more visceral—the cold weight of the collar around his neck, the draining of his power, the despair of inaction.
No. Not that path. I refuse.
His hands moved before the conscious thought had fully formed, his fingers tracing Aethelgard combat sigils in the air. He did not attack the men. He attacked the space they occupied. The air around the two guards and Theron seemed to crystallize, becoming a solid, transparent prison. They froze mid-motion, their eyes wide with shock and terror, trapped in a cage of solidified geometry.
"What magic is this?" Theron gasped, his voice strained, his body unable to move even a finger. "This is not Veridian sorcery! This is... abomination!"
"It is what comes next," Kaelen said, his voice flat and devoid of triumph. He bent down and carefully, reverently, pried the perfect crystal from its resting place. It was warm to the touch, pulsating in his hand like a living heart. "When you are free—and you will be in about an hour—deliver a message to the Council. Tell them I am not their enemy. But I will not be hindered in preparing for the one that is."
He walked past the three frozen figures, the crystal's light flaring slightly as he passed, as if in approval. First component acquired. The celestial bronze was back in his study. Next, the starlight silver from the Highpeak Monastery. And according to the unerring vision, that was where he would find the second thread of his destiny—the warrior woman in emerald armor.
The path was unfolding, yet every step forward, every fate he avoided, felt like another step deeper into a prison of predetermined choices. He had evaded one terrible future only to lock himself more firmly into another.
As he emerged from the oppressive darkness of the caverns into the clean night air, the crystal in his hand glowed brighter, resonating not just with the stars above, but with a presence to the north. Or someone. The first thread of his destined harem was pulling taut, and he had no choice but to follow it toward the mountains, toward the silver, and toward the woman who would stand beside him in the war to come.