The storm passed, but the sky did not return to normal.
Kyomisu lay beneath soft gold light that shimmered too steadily, unbroken by clouds. The air held a faint taste of iron and ash, a sign that lightning had struck not purely by weather but by will.
Kevin sat at the shrine's steps, bandaged along his left shoulder from the last confrontation. Kris rested against one of the old pillars, eyes closed but not asleep, the stones around his seat pulsing faintly in response to each heartbeat. Dylan had been awake half the night, staring at the horizon where violet storms still burned miles away.
Lady Ai worked quietly nearby, tending to cracked talismans and drawing fresh seals. Their father had not spoken much since dawn.
Kelivin stood apart from them, at the edge of the courtyard, silent and watchful. His gaze stayed fixed on the mountain passes—listening, it seemed, to sounds far beyond human reach.
The Fractured Calm
Dylan broke the quiet first. "If that's what the world calls a calm night," he muttered, "I'd hate to see what panic looks like."
Kris smirked faintly. "You'd pick a fight with panic if it had a face."
Kevin remained silent, feeling the faint pulse of the mark beneath his shirt. The symbol had started to change since the storm—less glow, more movement. Sometimes it beat with his pulse; other times it felt like a second heart.
He turned toward Kelivin. "The storm was drawn to the Heart, wasn't it? But it wasn't just mindless energy. It spoke."
Kelivin nodded slowly. "Storms have voices when enough souls linger inside them. That one was a memory. A piece of what the elements remember from the first Seal."
Kevin frowned. "Then what happens when those memories don't want to stay forgotten?"
Kelivin finally turned to face them. "They come looking for the ones who stirred them."
Before the brothers could answer, the wind shifted sharply. The torches lining the walkway cut out one by one until the courtyard was lit only by pale sky. The earth vibrated once—lightly, like a knock on a door.
Lady Ai stiffened. "Something crosses the boundary."
The Envoys Arrive
Three shapes stepped out of the swirling light near the mountain gate—not shadows, not solid flesh, but luminous figures formed of pure elemental energy bound in humanoid form.
Each glowed differently: one burned with faint red sparks of flame; another rippled as translucent water outlined by silver; the last shimmered like morning fog, half air, half light.
Saya and Renji arrived at the same moment, weapons drawn but cautious. "By dawn's light," Saya breathed, "they're not Remnants."
Kelivin moved forward. "No—they're envoys. The realms send them when balance shifts beyond their control."
The flame‑figure bowed slightly, its voice resonant and layered. "Kelivin of the Bridge, son of no order. The realms speak through us. The patterns of your bloodline disrupt the currents of unity once sealed."
Dylan whispered to Kris, "Why does every cosmic being speak like a priest with rhythm problems?"
The air envoy tilted its head; though it had no eyes, its awareness fixed on the trio. "And these… your progeny. Born of fracture yet bound by resonance. They call storms that do not die—they awaken what sleeps."
Kelivin raised a hand, his aura flaring gently. "Say what you came to say."
The Message from the Realms
The water envoy stepped forward, its surface rippling like disturbed glass. "The Lord of Stillness has moved again. Ryuzen's palace stirs the void. When the Heirs of Kyomisu forged their first unity, the Convergence paths reopened. He cannot yet pass through—but his disciples already march."
The brothers felt their marks heat at the name.
Kelivin's eyes narrowed. "So he sends tests again. The same old circle."
"Not quite," the envoy replied. "He seeks not your death, but your measure. The realms demand proof that unity will not tear them apart. Should you fail, the next convergence will lock permanently. The world of one element will devour the rest."
Saya stepped closer. "If they're his targets, why warn them?"
"Because even the realms fear perfection," murmured the water envoy.
For an instant, all movement ceased.
Then the flame envoy extended its hand. Within it shimmered a single orb marked by five lines, half‑burned at the edges. "The message comes with a gift—half of the ancient sigil. The other half remains with Ryuzen. Should the heirs link both, the truth of the Seal will reveal itself."
Kelivin did not take it immediately. His expression darkened. "Truth and cost walk hand in hand. What do the realms gain by helping us?"
The envoys spoke together, their voices harmonized into one tone that bent the air:
"Survival."
The word echoed through the shrine until the air stilled.
The Warning in Light
The envoys turned to leave, dissolving into falling ribbons of their respective elements. Only the faint hum of their power lingered, coiling through the ground until the Heart Seal itself responded—one long, low pulse.
Kelivin closed his hand over the half‑sigil, feeling the energy bite into his skin like frost. The brothers watched, their marks flickering in reply.
Kris spoke first. "If Ryuzen wants proof, we'll give him proof."
Kevin looked uneasy. "He won't stop with tests. You felt it—he means to reshape the world if we fail."
Kelivin met his gaze. "Then don't fail. Every realm now watches you as one."
Thunder rolled across the horizon, though the skies were clear.
The pulse beneath Kyomisu deepened again, this time resonating directly with the brothers' marks as if answering an unspoken call.
Dylan looked up. "Is it me, or did the Heart just get louder?"
Kelivin sighed quietly. "It's listening. The next time it speaks, the realms may open to us whether we're ready or not."