The rift opened above the clouds.
A pale seam spread slowly across the air, steady and deliberate, as though the world itself had chosen to make room. Wind thinned. Sound softened. Even the clouds below seemed to drift farther away, stretched flat and distant.
Six figures emerged.
They came through together—six siblings with the same hazel skin and hazel eyes, the same shared features that marked them as family before anything else ever touched them. The resemblance ended the moment they were set down.
One blurred at the edges as shadows lagged behind his movements. One carried a warmth she struggled to keep contained. One landed with a weight the stone quietly accepted. One reached for his glasses on instinct, hands unsteady. One stood listening, head tilted, breath shallow. One was lowered unconscious, hair drifting as though gravity held her loosely.
Stone met their feet.
The peak was vast and bare, dark rock veined with faint lines of light that pulsed slowly beneath the surface, like something alive but resting. Clouds rolled far below, thick and endless, hiding the world beneath as if this place had chosen isolation long before they arrived.
No one spoke.
The air pressed down gently but constantly, every breath requiring intention. Azrael felt it immediately—not pain, not threat, just presence. His shadow didn't settle when he did. It hovered a fraction too long before falling into place.
Kaela hugged herself, staring at her hands as warmth bled faintly through her fingers. She didn't try to stop it this time. She looked tired. Empty.
Raleth stood still, shoulders squared, as if moving might crack something fragile inside him. The stone beneath his boots felt solid, dependable. He focused on that.
Rykan pushed his glasses up his nose again and again, even after they stopped slipping. He kept swallowing, like his throat wouldn't work properly.
Naori closed her eyes.
"It's quiet," she whispered. "But not empty."
Eimyrn stirred softly, lashes fluttering. She didn't wake. Her breathing evened out, dreamlight fading to a faint glow beneath her skin.
Around them, the guardians settled.
They positioned themselves with care, massive forms lowering, wings folding, shadows drawing close without swallowing light. Their presence didn't press down—it held the space together.
Azrael finally spoke, voice hoarse. "They lied to us."
No one corrected him.
"They didn't mean to," the fox said gently.
Kaela shook her head, tears slipping free. "Our whole life. Everyone. The village."
"A shelter," the moth replied softly.
"A cage," Rykan muttered.
The panther stepped forward, massive head lowering until its gaze met Azrael's. "Both can be true."
Azrael clenched his jaw. "So what are we?"
Silence stretched.
"Human," the owl said at last.
"And more," the panther added.
Raleth exhaled slowly. "That doesn't feel like an answer."
The panther didn't look away. "It isn't meant to be comforting."
Naori opened her eyes. "Our parents."
"They chose you," the moth said. "Again and again."
Kaela's shoulders shook. She pressed her hands to her face, light dimming as her breathing steadied.
Eimyrn murmured something in her sleep. A name. None of them recognized it.
The fox curled closer to her.
"This place will hold you," the panther said quietly. "It will not watch. It will not judge. It will not interfere."
Azrael looked out over the clouds, the endless wilderness hidden beneath them. "And after?"
The panther's shadow stretched long across the stone.
"After," it said, "you will decide who you become."
The wind moved gently across the peak.
Only the weight of truth remained—settling slowly, deeply, like snow that hadn't finished falling yet.
One of the creatures began moving.
The bison, stone groaned softly beneath its weight as it lowered its massive head, breath rolling out in a slow, steady plume. "Before you choose anything," it rumbled, "you should know who stands with you."
The moth drifted closer, light dimmed to something gentler. "Names matter," she said. "Especially now."
The fox inclined her head, tails swaying once. "We did not come to you as strangers."
The owl folded its wings tighter, blind eyes turned toward the siblings as if it could see them more clearly than sight ever allowed. "We have been listening since the moment you fell."
Behind Raleth, the air carried weight.
Not pressure exactly— but presence.
The massive shape coiled low against the stone, body partially grounded as if anchoring the mountain itself. Its vast form didn't move, didn't loom, didn't threaten. It simply existed, steady as the deep places beneath the world.
Raleth hadn't noticed when he'd been set down.
Only that the ground beneath his feet had felt… right.
A tide-blue eye opened.
"Kaeron," the leviathan said, voice like distant currents beneath rock.
Raleth looked up at the massive creature and gulped. He was left speechless.
The panther stepped forward, shadow stretching long across the rock. "Then hear us."
The bison struck one hoof lightly against the ground. "I am Gorrin," it said. "Keeper of weight. Memory of endurance."
The moth's wings shimmered faintly. "Lumen," she whispered. "Watcher of light that does not burn."
The fox smiled softly. "Yoru. I walk the edge between waking and dream."
The owl's feathers rustled, soundless. "Ashrin," it said. "I hear what lingers."
At last, the panther's gaze settled on Azrael. "And I am Sable."
Silence followed—
Kaela wiped at her eyes. "So… how does this work are you apart of us."
"We are bound," Yoru replied. "Not as masters."
"Not as guards," Gorrin added.
"But two souls sharing the same body as two sides of a coin" Lumen said with a low, and steady sound which passed through the group—not laughter, but something close.
Sable's tail flicked once. "You will learn what that truly means soon."
The mountain answered before any of them could speak.
The air pressed heavier now, subtle but constant, like the world asking them to prove they belonged where they stood. The faint veins of light beneath the stone brightened, pulsing once, then settling again.
Kaela felt it first. The warmth in her chest stirred, then stuttered, not flaring outward as it had before. The air drank it in. She sucked in a breath and steadied herself, shaken more by how easily it was taken than by the loss itself.
"This land is saturated," Gorrin said quietly. "Astra moves here without permission."
Rykan swallowed. "So… it's everywhere."
Yoru's gaze softened. "Yes but you have to learn to feel it like us because you are still listening like humans."
She stepped forward, tails brushing the stone. "Astra is not something created. It is something left behind."
The siblings turned toward her.
"In humans," Yoru continued, "Astra gathers inward. It is shaped by memory. By fear. By resolve. By experiences. By moments that scar or change you. Loss. Love. Trauma. Choice."
Kaela's hands curled slightly at her sides.
"That is why human Astra looks different in every person," Lumen added. "It reflects who they became."
Kaeron shifted behind Raleth, the stone humming faintly beneath his mass.
"For beasts, Astra does not begin inside."
"It comes from the world itself," Kaeron continued. "From storms that flatten forests. From hunger that lasts seasons. From land that remembers every footstep."
Gorrin struck one hoof lightly against the rock. "We do not shape Astra. We endure it until it shapes us ,we absorb it."
Silence followed, heavy but clear.
Azrael looked down at his shadow. It pooled strangely at his feet, darker than the stone beneath it. "So… since we're bonded can't we use astra in both ways."
"Yes," Sable said. "And that is why you are dangerous."
"And why you are hunted," Ashrin added.
Rykan's jaw tightened. "Wraith."
The name anchored the air again—sharp, absolute.
"He does not erase villages by chance," Sable said. "He removes outcomes. You are an outcome he cannot allow."
Kaela's voice was small but steady. "So how do we fight something like that?"
"You don't," Gorrin answered.
"Not yet, you have to understand how astra,is categorized" Lumen corrected gently.
Yoru glanced at the siblings. "When your parents first fused us, they were talking about how humans have names for the ways Astra settles once it has formed. They call them Vitae."
She raised one tail, then another, counting without ceremony.
"Some become Saints—those whose Astra answers conviction and clarity.
Some are Forgers—who shape it into tools and weapons.
Some are Bearers—who turn it into weight and dominance within their bodies.
Some write limits and laws and become Sealwrights.
Some bind their souls outward and are called Tamers.
Some inscribe Astra into symbols and cards—Kikkōshi.
Some listen to nature itself and become Tome Keepers."
She paused, eyes flicking briefly to Azrael's shadow.
"And some abandon all of that," she said softly. "And learn to hear what the world hums beneath everything else."
No one spoke.
"These are not choices you make today," Sable said. "They are shapes Astra settles into after survival."
Kaeron lowered his massive head slightly. "First, you will learn to stand in pressure without breaking."
"This peak exists for that purpose," Gorrin said. "Gravity is heavier. Astra flow is wild. Nothing here will bend for you."
Ashrin's voice softened. "It will teach you honesty."
Lumen's light brightened just enough to warm the air. "And restraint."
Azrael lifted his gaze, eyes steady now. "And when Wraith comes again?"
Sable met his stare without flinching.
"Then you will not face him as frightened children shaped by lies."
The mountain pulsed once beneath their feet.
"You will face him as beings the world itself has begun to recognize."
The wind moved across the peak, slow and deliberate.
Below them, unseen and waiting, the Lone Wild Vein Lands breathed.
And for the first time since everything was taken—
The path forward did not feel empty.