Albert left the mess hall, still milling Cayden’s rune talk. He’d stayed late, hoping to chase down the trick to spatial storage. Albert kept his head down, deep in thought. Maybe Albert would never master it. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Albert walked with his head down, deep in thought.

  And then, a scream tore through the air—loud, raw and panicked. Without further thought, he sprinted toward the sound. His instincts kicking in. The sight stopped him cold. As he rounded the corner, he froze.

  River stood at the center of the corridor, essence swirling dense around him like fog. Vlad stood paralysed hardened stone clamping around his arms and legs. No novice could do that. Albert opened his mouth; but River vanished into his room. Pressure lifted, the restraints crumbled away. Vlad collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. He didn’t stay long. Shame burning on his face, he scrambled upright and fled. Albert couldn’t deny the flicker of satisfaction. Vlad had it coming. But that wasn’t important right now. He needed answers — but first, Amalia. He wouldn’t face River alone.

  Amalia lay sprawled across her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her shoulder finally unclenched. No one here knew who she truly was — not the bloodlines that tied her to Kidrin or the great houses. No schemes, no expectations. Just friends she could trust. Here, she was simply Amalia. Just another student. It felt good. Real. A faint smile touched her lips as she closed her eyes. Sleep came easily. Then — a muffled scream echoed through the walls. Her eyes snapped open. She knew exactly what it was.

  Her body jolted upright, heart pounding. Did she really want to know what that sound was? But before the thought could settle, a sharp knock rattled the door. Groaning, she rubbed her face and stumbled to her feet—but now wasn’t the time to be slow. Her father’s drills snapped into place; her body moving before her mind could catch up.

  "Who is it?" she called. At first, there was only silence. Then she squinted into the dim hallway, and her heart jolted—

  Albert stood there, wide-eyed, breathing hard. "It's River," he said. "You need to come. Now." He was already turning away, urgency pulling him down the hall. Amalia hissed a curse.

  What had that little shit done now?

  She sighed heavily, grabbed her robe, and hurried after Albert, her mind racing.

  Callum lay on his bunk, staring at the cracked ceiling.

  How could he ever catch up to River? He felt left behind.

  River didn’t even need sleep anymore. He had time Callum could never match. The thought seemed to frequently fill his mind. Then—a scream split the air. It was close. Callum sat up sharply, his heart hammering. Before he could react further, the door creaked open—and River walked in. Or... something that used to be River. River looked like a different person—exhausted, dangerous, a tightly wound coil ready to snap. His eyes looked normal at a glance, but the more Calumn inspected them the more certain he was that something had changed. They made Callum uneasy. River crossed the room without a word, dropped a thick book on the desk with a heavy thud, and sat down with a long, shaking sigh. Callum just stared, a knot tightening in his gut. Something had changed tonight. Something big. And it wasn’t over yet.

  River sat restless at his desk, his mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts. A secret order.

  The temple in the wastelands. And then, inevitably, his thoughts returned to what he had just done. The more he thought about it, the heavier the regret grew in his chest. Had he just become the very thing he'd despised? A bully? He didn't even notice when Amalia and Albert entered the room. It wasn’t until a warm hand landed on his shoulder that he blinked back to the present. Callum's voice was low, steady.

  "Are you all right? Do you want to explain what happened?" The room was too quiet.

  Albert shifted beside him, fingers drumming nervously against his knee.

  Amalia sat still, arms folded tight, eyes unreadable.

  Callum had buried his face in his hands.

  River opened his mouth. But no words came. He didn’t know how to explain any of it. He closed his eyes. Everything was a blur. Was this a dream? Some sick joke? He was a vessel for something he hadn’t agreed to carry — so how could he explain it? Still, he had to try. River drew a final breath, steadying himself. Then he began. He told them about the presence. The one he’d felt for weeks, maybe months. How it had started as a whisper on the edge of his senses, then grown louder, closer. Watching him. Always watching. The more he trained, the clearer it became. His senses sharpened. The world seemed to speak to him, every detail more vivid. How, just a few hours ago, he had caught the stalker off-guard in the library. He stumbled through the story of how he’d earned a second soul band, the story of the old man, of the strange words about oaths, the temple in the wastelands, his "rightful place on the throne” he needs to reclaim. He looked up at his friends, a knot of dread twisting in his gut. Was this it? Would this finally be too much? Would they decide they'd had enough, that it was safer to push him away and leave him to whatever madness he was stuck in? River wouldn’t blame them if they walked away. For a moment, he even hoped they would. It would be safer for them. But the thought of being alone again... He wasn’t ready for that. No one spoke. The room had gone quiet. He sat there, unsure of how to continue.

  Then something shifted. The air thickened — a suffocating, heavy presence pressing down on them. The quiet clatter of voices that usually echoed through the hallways vanished. Even the wind against the mountain walls fell silent. Their breathing, too, vanished from his ears They glanced at each other, eyes wide, the same realization flashing between them.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong. The door exploded inward, torn from its hinges, crashing against the ground. Dust and wind whooshed up to meet his face. Dust and wind blasted into his face. It had only missed Albert by inches. And still — no sound. It was like everything was happening underwater. Slow, muffled and wrong. River turned to his friends, forcing his mouth to move, forcing the word out. "Run."

  But even as he spoke, his voice vanished. The words barely left his lips before fading to a whisper. He could hardly hear them himself—so no one else could’ve heard the message. His panic grew. River slid the layer of essence from his eyes, hoping to see the essence of the world more clearly.

  And it did. The room lit up, shining with the familiar hues of magic. But there was nothing. No attacker. No presence he could pinpoint. Only the crushing silence and the feeling of something terrible approaching.

  Then he appeared, as if from nothing.

  Philip. Standing in the doorway. River shuddered.

  Even if he’d always been a bit of a loner, River had never expected this. Maybe Malcolm — but not him. He was a Tier 5 mage, with control over Air and Lightning. Knowing that didn’t make it any less terrifying. If anything, it made it worse. This wouldn’t end well. The boy stood there, a thick, unsettling grin stretching across his face — but the sincerity never touched his cold, lifeless eyes.

  River’s stomach twisted. Philip’s sleeves, were drenched in blood. He had clearly hurt someone before this.

  To be fair... it was very creepy. Then suddenly, the air was sucked from the room. A high-pitched ringing filled River’s ears, and pressure built behind his eyes like they were about to burst. Albert, Callum and Amalia collapsed, gasping soundlessly for air that had retreated.

  Panic flared.

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  River concentrated fiercely, willing the air around him to obey.

  The essence responded—just enough for him to breathe again — but he knew it wouldn't last long. With each passing moment his control lessened. But he knew his friends didn't have that luxury. They were still flailing, still alive — limbs twitching, eyes wide with panic, turning bluer by the second.

  They had minutes. At best. Then, for a heartbeat, the air shifted. The crushing silence cracked just enough for River to hear him — clear and cold. “I’ve been sent to collect you.” “I’ve been sent to collect you.” As he spoke, Philip’s eyes flickered black. Not the yellow of lightning. Not the white of air. Something else.

  The words landed like ice. Not a threat. Not a plea. Just... fact. As if Philip were merely completing an errand. Like it was already decided.

  He closed his eyes, reaching out with his consciousness finding the shimmering link between souls and essence.

  Philip’s link blazed fiercely, strong, deep, and vicious.

  River attacked it, slicing at the threads, stabbing with all his will. Nothing. Each cut he made simply healed instantly, the connection reforming as fast as he could strike. It was pointless. River’s mind trembled under the strain. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give in. Not now. Not when they needed him. He needed a distraction. Something, anything to break Philip’s focus. Moving carefully, he edged past his fallen friends, each shallow breath a labor, until he pressed his hand against the stone floor. “Earth Shot,” he whispered, envisioning a bolt of rock launching at his enemy. The ground obeyed instantly — a sharp spike of stone ripped free, hurtling toward Philip with brutal speed. For a heartbeat, River dared to hope. Philip faltered—for just a moment—the pressure broke — River heard his friends suck in desperate gasps of air. But then Philip casually flicked his wrist, muttering a short incantation.

  But the spike crumbled to dust before it even touched him. And with a terrifying finality, the air whooshed from the room once more, a crushing vacuum pressing in on them. River staggered, his legs buckling. The edges of his vision blurred, colors draining into gray. That was all he had... The floor tilted beneath him. The world began to fade. Just before his eyes shut, he caught a glimpse of someone stepping through the shattered doorway — Alerus. And someone else behind him.

  Strength returned to River's limbs as he felt the crushing pressure lessen. His focus was no longer squarely on them.

  Philip spun around, locking eyes with Alerus as the headmaster stormed into the room. His body tensed, ready to bolt — but Alerus’s voice cut through the air like a blade. Philip froze, muscles snapping back into control. "What the fuck are you doing?!” The words hit like a hammer.

  Alerus' expression was grim, his usually warm eyes now dark and cold.

  Essence rolled off him in waves so thick it blurred the edges of his body, warping the air around him. River just lay there, frozen, his body locked in a strange flux of complete fear, wild anxiety... and desperate, aching relief. The mountain shuddered as Alerus commanded the ground itself — the world answering his call. Then the air shattered. Sound rushed back in. River could hear again — the pounding of his heart, and the ragged gasps of his friends. Alerus had seized the battlefield. Essence swirled, bowing to his will. If the fight kept going like this, Philip didn’t stand a chance.

  For a moment, it seemed like victory was inevitable.

  Then... something changed. The essence around Philip, once flickering cleanly between bright white and yellow, twisted, darkening, black threads slithering through it like rot in fresh wood.

  River's stomach dropped. The Shadow.

  It cloaked Philip, devouring him in a writhing mass of shadow. River knew that shadow. It was the same force that had killed Lud. Instinct took over—he wrenched his gaze away, bile rising in his throat as terror clamped down harder than any spell. He was back in that town. Back in the alley. Back where Lud had bled out in the dirt.

  And this time… there was no running.

  River forced himself to keep watching returning his might to the fight at hand. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, his jaw locked, but his stare firm.

  He couldn't afford to look away now. Maybe he could help.

  Even from where he lay, he could see it clearly —

  Alerus was afraid.

  That realization hit harder than anything else.

  If Alerus was scared... then they were in serious trouble.

  But the Headmaster didn't back down. Essence thickened around him, pressing against the walls, the floor, the very air. The ground heaved upward as Alerus commanded it, stone hands lashing out to seize Philip’s feet. But Philip merely laughed, sidestepping with a casual grace that made River's blood run cold.

  "You'll have to do better than that," Philip sneered, venom dripping from every word.

  He raised a hand and pointed straight at River.

  "Or I'll kill that boy before you even blink."

  River swallowed hard, the weight of the threat sinking deep into his chest. Across the room, Alerus sighed heavily almost... tiredly. Then, without a word, he unclasped the necklace around his throat.

  Power flooded the room, raw and overwhelming—like the air itself had turned to essence. River flinched, pain spiking behind his eyes as if he’d stared into the heart of the sun. Alerus now stood at the center of it all, the eye of a roaring storm. The air screamed. The walls trembled. And the very world seemed to bend toward him. River could feel it too the way the raw magic pulled at him, responding to Alerus even before the old man moved.

  For a moment, it seemed inevitable. Philip froze as if entangled by invisible threads, limbs locked, helpless.

  Then Philip shuddered violently… and dissolved into strands of dark essence, vanishing one by one. The smoke coiled and slithered into the cracks of the floor, vanishing as if he'd never been there at all. Philip knew he stood no chance now. Silence slammed back into the room. The storm faded. And River was left gasping, staring at the empty spot where Philip had stood, the mark of Shadow lingering heavy in the air. Alerus stood there for a second, stunned by what had happened. Then, suddenly, he snapped back into focus, picked up his necklace, and placed it around his neck the essence seemed to retract, no longer as volatile as it had been before. Alerus seemed old and fragile. He no longer looked like the invincible warrior he had seen just moments ago.

  Alerus almost dragged his feet as he crossed the shattered room, River could only imagine how much effort he had just exerted. Before River knew it Alerus stood above him. Alerus reached out and hauled River to his feet, his grip firm. "You need to get the hell out of here," he said, voice low and urgent.

  He gestured sharply toward the space where Philip had just vanished.

  "There could be more of them. Like him." River stared at the empty floor, heart pounding. Alerus' expression darkened, grim and heavy. "And the school Council." he muttered, almost spitting the words.

  "They'll have serious questions about what happened tonight. Philip killed three students: kids unlucky enough to still be walking the corridors when he snapped." That explained the blood. River’s chest tightened painfully. Three more deaths. Because of him? Alerus leaned closer, his voice a rasp barely louder than a whisper. "Go far away into the Wastelands. It's the only place you might be safe now."

  For a moment, River’s fingers brushed against the disk tucked inside his robe. Its pulse met his touch — faint, steady, waiting. He hesitated. But then he pulled his hand away. No. He wouldn’t use it. He couldn’t afford to trust anyone else — not now.

  Every time he did, it ended in blood. He straightened, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Then, without a word, he walked calmly over to River. He rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder — steady, grounding. For a moment, it felt almost fatherly. And then he spoke, voice low and heavy with regret. I’ll wait a few hours before I report. Philip dampened the sound—no one should’ve heard. But once they find the bodies, they’ll come looking. The Council prefers a clean story; it doesn’t have to be yours. Let me control the first version they hear.”

  He let that hang a moment.

  “Remember: Primordials don’t just grow stronger—they shine. And when you shine, the world notices. They will come for you. Protect each other.”

  He gave a tired, almost bitter smile.

  “I didn’t think it would be this soon. Sorry, kid. I wish I’d had more time to teach you.”

  River opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Only a heavy, crushing sense of inevitability. He had finally found a place to call home—friends that made life bearable. But tomorrow, he’d be gone. And he would need to become someone else to survive. His body began to shake. Not from pain — but from everything finally catching up to him. He didn’t know what to do. And judging by the way his limbs trembled, his body didn’t either.