The seal burned.
Not painfully—
warningly.
Reeve noticed it just after noon, while sitting alone near the outer wall of Ironridge Fortress. His eyes were half-closed, pretending to rest, pretending to be normal.
Inside him, something pressed upward.
Not violently.
Not urgently.
Like a tide that knew it would reach shore eventually.
He exhaled slowly.
So this is what she meant.
By evening, the pressure worsened.
His vision blurred for half a second—just long enough to make him grip the stone bench beneath him. Around him, people laughed, argued, lived.
None of them noticed the grass at his feet slowly drying.
"Damn it…"
He stood.
And remembered Lunareth's words.
If you feel the pressure building again—
You run.
So he did.
The moment he left the fortress gates, the air changed.
The road leading away from Ironridge was narrow, winding between broken hills and scattered trees. The sun dipped low, painting long shadows that stretched like claws across the ground.
Reeve's breathing grew uneven as he moved faster.
He didn't know where he was running.
Only that staying was wrong.
The seal pulsed again.
Stronger.
Behind him—
A sound.
Footsteps.
Not hurried.
Not loud.
Confident.
Reeve didn't turn back.
His instincts—sharpened by weeks of training and something darker—screamed at him not to.
A presence pressed against his back like cold air before a storm.
"You run well," a voice said calmly.
"Poorly trained, but instinctive."
Reeve's heart slammed against his ribs.
He sprinted.
Mana leaked.
The ground beneath his feet cracked, stones splitting as his weight hit harder than it should. Trees trembled as he passed, leaves falling without wind.
Another voice joined the first—lower, amused.
"Careful. Break him too soon and the core destabilizes."
Reeve stumbled.
Caught himself.
Core?
A blade flashed past his shoulder, embedding itself into a tree ahead of him. The bark around it blackened instantly.
He skidded to a halt.
Three figures stood ahead, blocking the path.
Cloaked.
Masked.
Watching him like prey.
"Well," the first said lightly, "this is disappointing. I expected more… resistance."
Reeve clenched his fists.
Mana surged.
The seal screamed.
Grass around him withered in a circle, dying instantly.
The figures stiffened.
"…Interesting," one muttered.
Then—
The world changed.
A sound cut through the tension.
Not metal.
Not footsteps.
Water.
Flowing.
Clear.
Cold.
Everywhere.
The air grew heavy with moisture. Reeve felt goosebumps rise across his skin as a pressure far gentler—but far deeper—washed over the land.
The figures turned sharply.
"What—"
The ground between them split as a stream erupted from nowhere, forcing them back. Water twisted unnaturally, forming spirals that glowed faintly under the fading light.
Reeve collapsed to one knee, gasping.
Someone landed beside him—light, effortless.
He didn't see her face.
Only felt the calm.
A voice spoke softly, almost amused.
"…So this is him."
The figures retreated instinctively, melting into the shadows without another word.
Reeve struggled to lift his head.
"Who… are you…?"
For a moment, there was only the sound of flowing water.
Then—
A name.
Spoken like a whisper carried by a river.
"Yuzora."