Dominic's chest tightened as the voice drifted through the dark.
Power. That was the one thing that he didn't have. The thing the Ceremony had denied him.
His hands trembled at his sides.
Ever since he walked away from the Hall of Veins, every thought inside him had been a storm full of anger, shame, desperation, and disappointment. Those feelings were so sharp it felt like it was cutting him open from inside.
He kept seeing his grandfather's aging hands and face, the lines beneath his weary eyes, and the hopeful smile that had died the moment Dominic arrived without any strong Bloodmark.
He kept seeing the life he would now have to live. A life with no purpose, coin, or path forward. A life where he could do nothing but watch his grandfather grow older and suffer while he remained powerless.
All of it smoldered him from within.
The voice whispered again.
"Come… get this power…"
Dominic swallowed. His heart surged in his chest, pounding with sudden fierce need.
Yes, power. If he had that, everything would change. He could work or fight. He could go into the Labyrinth and make coins like any other explorer.
He could repay his grandfather and carve a good future instead of watching it slip away.
His steps echoed as he moved toward the darkness, drawn by a heat rising through his veins.
But then… Something shifted. A strange clarity prickled at the edge of his awareness.
This… isn't real.
He stopped. A heavy dread settled into him.
He frowned, looking around at the walls, at the floor, at the symbols twisting across the stone.
They started to ripple faintly like reflections on disturbed water.
This is a dream.
He knew it. He felt it.
Only his mind would show him what he wanted most. Only his empty desperate heart would conjure a voice offering power.
But knowing it was a dream only made the desire worse. If this was the only place he could grasp power—even false power—then he would take it.
He stared into the darkness where the voice waited.
"Tell me!" he shouted, his voice breaking with urgency. "Where do I get this power? I want it! I want it now!"
The corridor rumbled under his feet. Cracks spidered along the walls. Everything around him started to shiver violently.
The voice, for the first time, sounded close. Right beside his ear.
"Then… come to my voice…"
Dominic lunged forward.
But the stone floor split. The carvings shattered. The world around him peeled apart layer by layer, dissolving into blinding white.
"No, wait!" Dominic shouted, reaching out desperately. "Wait! Don't go! I want it. I want the power. Give it to me now!"
But there was nothing to grab. The corridor collapsed into fragments of light.
Then the dream broke and Dominic's eyes snapped open with a gasp.
He lay in his dark room, breathing raggedly, sweat dampening his hairline.
The heavy and merciless reality pressed down on him immediately.
Dominic stared at the ceiling, shaking.
And then, slowly, he clenched his fists so tight his nails dug into his palms.
"I want it…" he whispered.
But the dream did not answer.
—
Inside a chamber lined with flowing strands of etherlight, three Arcanists of the Mark Registry kept watch over the continent.
Pale blue lines shone across the floor and ceiling. They were the threads of living energy connected to the great crystal tablets mounted along the walls.
Each tablet mapped a different region of Halcyth, marked with glowing runes and shifting latticework that tracked the Labyrinth's behavior.
The Mark Registry that was second only in authority to the Scarlet Council, held many responsibilities. Among them was the constant, relentless task of monitoring for anomalies like wild ether surges bleeding from the Labyrinth, ruptures opening without warning, or monsters slipping past sealed thresholds into places where people lived.
The Labyrinth was unpredictable. Even sealed, watched, and reinforced by the Council's Arcanists, it always found ways to break rules.
Tonight, however, was quiet. And it was good for those on watch.
Only three Arcanists were on this anomaly shift. Nothing unusual for a calm night. They lounged at their posts, tired and bored, trading murmured complaints about the tedium.
"This is boring," one muttered, tapping the edge of his quill against a ledger.
"Be grateful," said another. "If something does happen, it usually means we're about to be knee-deep in a disaster report."
The third yawned loudly and stretched. "Still better than staring at these crystals for six hours. They never—"
The tablet nearest him pulsed sharply with a single red streak shot across its surface like a crack of lightning.
He froze.
"Did that just—?"
The tablet let out a deep resonant tone that vibrated through the chamber.
A second pulse rippled out across the lattice, followed by cascading runes igniting in urgent crimson.
The bored Arcanists shot to their feet.
"Ether leakage detected," the first one read aloud. "It came from the Labyrinth! Not triggered by an explorer or an Arcanist!"
"That's a wild surge," the second whispered, swallowing hard. "From inside."
The crystal tablet flared again and cast the entire chamber in red light.
Location data streamed down its face in rapid lines of script.
The third Arcanist stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he traced the runes.
"It's in the west of Vellonor Reach," he announced. "Near the outskirts."
They exchanged sharp looks.
That area was supposed to be stable. No open Labyrinth holes there in a very long time. No active entry points or known fissures beneath the city.
"Get the Overseer," one said.
"No, sound the alert first!" another insisted.
The room erupted into motion as hands flew across sigil panels and switches.
The once-quiet chamber now pulsed with warning chimes and shifting red etherlight.
—
Dominic finished washing his face, letting the cool water drip from his chin. He couldn't go back to sleep again.
The dream he had just experienced still clung to him. It felt too real, too sharp around the edges for just a dream. He thought that it must be because he really wanted that to be real.
His stomach growled. Right. He hadn't eaten since afternoon.
He moved to the table where his grandfather had left a plate covered with a cloth. The food had been warmed earlier, but now hours later it had gone cold again.
Dominic didn't care. He sat down and began to eat mechanically.
Each bite felt heavy. He had no appetite but the pain in his stomach hurt worse than the lingering despair in his chest.
So he forced himself to chew with a dull expression.
Halfway through the meal, a whisper drifted through the quiet house.
"Come to me…"
Dominic froze. The spoon slipped from his fingers and clattered softly onto the plate.
That voice.
It was the same voice from the dream that had promised him power.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the source.
The whisper came from beyond the cabin walls, from the direction of the woods behind the house.
A cold shiver crawled down Dominic's spine.
—