Laia's brow furrowed the moment the words left Lyra's mouth. The True Name War.
She knew of it the same way every academy student did—an ancient, brutal cycle that unfolded every few centuries, when scattered fragments of a long-dead God King's true name hummed to life across the realms. Every bearer of a shard was pulled into the conflict. The strongest absorbed the rest, their divinity swelling to unthinkable heights. The weak were erased: their divine cores shattered, their realms crumbling to dust. This was no contest for young student gods. It was no contest for ordinary deities at all. It was the business of emperors, of ancient bloodlines, of powers that moved in the highest shadows of the divine world.
Lyra's smile thinned into a bitter, weary line as she picked at the frayed cuff of her robe. "My older sister carries two of the shards. She was born with twin divinities, both tied to the same name. Everyone called it a blessing at first—double potential, double strength. Until the resonance set in."
She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the stone floor. "The two shards are tearing her apart from the inside. Divine dissonance. It gets worse every month. The healers say by the time the war begins three years from now, one shard will consume the other. And when that happens? She won't survive it. There won't be enough left of her core to hold her realm together."
"The Far Shore of the Void Sea," she said, lifting her chin again, her voice steady with a stubbornness Laia hadn't seen from her before. "Deep in the Exile Marches, past the mist fields and the void leviathan nests. The waters there can mend shattered divinity. They say they can split conflicting divine shards without destroying the bearer. If I can bring even one vial of that water back, my sister will live."
Laia stared at her, and for a long beat she could only think, Of course. Of course the quiet girl from her class was tangled up in some ancient god-king blood feud. Of course her simple, straightforward plan to sneak into the outer marches and grab an elemental fruit was about to get ten times more complicated.
She'd only ever intended a quick run: slip into the edge of the Exile Marches, find one fruit, and bolt. No deep dives into the void. No run-ins with high-tier abyssal beasts. No messy noble family drama. In and out, cheap and clean, the way she liked all her problems solved.
"Why go yourself?" she said, keeping her voice carefully neutral. "The Voss clan is old nobility. Can't you send an expedition? Hire veteran mercenaries?"
Lyra laughed, sharp and hollow. "Because the family has written her off. They say it's smarter to let the stronger shard consume her, then harvest what's left to bolster the family line. They'd rather have one perfect, powerful heir than two 'flawed' ones. I'm not about to let that happen."
She squared her shoulders. "I've been training for two years. I have maps, supplies, a small team of hand-picked guards. I'm going. Even if I have to walk the entire length of the Void Sea shoreline by myself."
Laia leaned back against the corridor wall, crossed her arms, and ran the numbers in her head.
She was already heading to the Exile Marches. She already had to navigate the outer mist fields. Traveling with someone who'd spent two years studying the safe routes, who could tell harmless void flora apart from the kind that dissolved flesh on contact? That would cut her travel time in half. Extra guards didn't hurt, either.
And if she did help with this Far Shore errand? The Voss family was old-money rich. The kind of rich that could drop a few hundred thousand crystals without noticing. Not enough for a full elemental attunement pool, maybe, but enough to cover her realm upkeep for a year. Easily.
"When are you leaving?" she said, sounding only mildly curious, like it was a passing thought.
Lyra blinked. "End of the semester break. Two weeks from now. Why?"
"Nothing," Laia said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "I was already planning a run out to the outer marches. Trait cultivation research. If your route lines up, we can travel together for the first stretch. Safer in numbers."
Lyra's eyes went wide. For half a second she looked like she was about to throw her arms around Laia again, then thought better of it and bounced lightly on her heels instead. "Really? You would? That's—thank you, Laia. Thank you so much. I know how dangerous it is, and you don't owe me anything, I—"
"Save it," Laia said, holding up a hand to cut her off. "Just the outer marches. I'm not trekking all the way to the Void Sea with you. I've got my own errand to run."
She was lying, just a little. She was already turning the idea over in her head. If the Far Shore was real, if those waters could actually mend broken divinity? A single vial would fetch a staggering sum on the unregulated market. Maybe enough for that elemental pool after all.
The academy bell tolled from the central spire then, deep and resonant, marking the start of morning training. The two of them turned toward the western grounds, falling into step down the sun-dappled stone path.
Laia kept her face neutral, but her mind was already racing. Elemental fruits. Far Shore water. Void beasts, noble family drama, and a whole stack of academy regulations she was about to bend so far they'd snap.
It was going to be a very busy semester break.
And if she played her cards right? She might just walk away with enough crystals to stop worrying about rent for a very long time.
Ahead of them, the training grounds were already coming to life. She could make out Murong Xue's crisp white robes and Soren's dark cloak near the main gate, both already waiting for Lord Thorne's lesson. The old War God's cane tapped steadily on the stone steps as he stepped out of the barracks, sharp and unsmiling as ever.
Another day of training. Another list of impossible-sounding assignments.
Laia took a deep breath and kept walking.
She'd survived the tournament. She'd slept her way to Fourth Tier. How hard could a little void expedition be?