The morning light cut through the high windows of the Eternal Tower, pale and unforgiving. It gave no warmth — only clarity.

  Matt stood before the mirror in his chamber, unmoving.

  For a long moment, he simply stared at himself. The boy in the reflection looked tired… but not broken.

  Slowly, he removed his clothes. The fabric fell to the floor like old skin.

  “It’s time,” he whispered to his reflection. “I’m letting you go.”

  A tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away immediately, jaw tightening.

  “No more.”

  He stepped into the bath. The water was cold — sharp against his skin. He lowered himself into it without hesitation. Then, quietly, he submerged his head beneath the surface.

  Silence swallowed him.

  No screams. No fire. No Stephen. No guilt.

  The pressure built in his lungs.

  Then—

  He rose.

  Water streamed down his face as he inhaled deeply, sharply. His eyes opened, steady now. Not healed.

  Controlled.

  He stood, dried himself, dressed quickly, and left the room with purpose in his stride.

  In the corridor, Arie leaned casually against the stone wall.

  “Well,” Arie said, blocking his path, tone light but observant, “Mr. Depression looks surprisingly alive this morning.”

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  Matt’s lips curved faintly.

  “Says the master who lost a duel with a sword… against a kitchen knife.”

  Arie’s jaw tightened.

  “You still call yourself a master?” Matt added as he brushed past. “Embarrassing.”

  Arie’s hand twitched toward his blade, but he said nothing. He only watched Matt walk away.

  Ahead, Tavari stepped forward.

  “Are you alright?” Tavari asked quietly.

  Matt met his eyes.

  “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here,” he replied. A small grin appeared. “Come on, dear young brother. Let’s train.”

  Tavari studied him carefully.

  The flames were calm.

  But they were still there.

  The training yard roared with the clash of steel. Soldiers sparred under the watchful eyes of three colonels who stood like pillars of discipline.

  Arie moved toward them.

  Before he reached them, a royal guard ran forward and dropped to one knee.

  “Commander Arie! A letter from the Kingdom of Leo. It arrived by eagle.”

  Arie’s expression shifted instantly.

  “An eagle…” he repeated. “Then it is urgent.”

  He took the sealed parchment. The golden lion insignia glinted in the light.

  Without opening it, he turned toward the Tower.

  “I will take this to the Watcher.”

  Moments later, Arie stood outside the Watcher’s chamber. He knocked once.

  “Enter.”

  He stepped inside.

  Nuru stood near the vast window, hands clasped behind his back, watching the horizon as if he could already see the future.

  “A message from Leo,” Arie said, bowing slightly. “Marked urgent.”

  Nuru extended his hand without turning. The wax seal cracked softly as he broke it. The parchment unfurled, revealing ancient script — the Old Tongue, used only when blood was at stake.

  Nuru read:

  To the Eye That Sees Beyond the Horizon,

  Keeper of the Eternal Tower,

  By oath sworn beneath the First Sun and sealed in lion’s blood, we invoke the ancient covenant.

  The Pale Ones descend upon us. They wield thunder caged in iron and fire bound within metal shells. Their weapons shatter stone as if it were dust.

  We have stood. We have bled. But our gates will not endure another rising sun.

  If the Tower does not answer, Leo shall fall before dusk.

  By honor and by blood, we beg your strength.

  — The Crown of Leo

  Silence filled the chamber.

  “The White Gods move openly,” Arie said.

  Nuru folded the letter slowly.

  “You,” he said calmly, “and the new students will go.”

  Arie stiffened. “There are four students. With me, that makes five. How are five meant to stand against an army?”

  Nuru turned.

  The air grew heavy.

  “Go,” Nuru said quietly. “Do as I command.”

  There was no anger in his voice. Only certainty.

  Arie bowed deeply.

  “As you wish.”

  He turned and left.

  Outside, the wind had begun to rise around the Tower’s spires.

  Below, Matt and Tavari continued training, unaware that their blades would soon meet thunder instead of steel.

  Far in the west, the Lion Kingdom burned.

  And the storm had only just begun.