By the time Eis and Team Argent reached the upper wing of the Guild, the sun was high and bright, spilling warm gold across the marble floors. The entire spire hummed with quiet, disciplined energy — a world away from the chaos of the night before.

  The air in the spire was sharp with the scent of paper, ozone, and old magic. Runes shimmered softly along the walls, shifting like faint trails of light as attendants moved past.

  An attendant led them into a circular chamber lined with crystalline panes.

  Eis entered first, with Ronan, Kael, and Lira following a step behind. None of them spoke. The space itself discouraged it.

  Archmage Serin stood at the center of the chamber.

  Suspended above a stone pedestal was the relic—the one Eis had surrendered—floating within a lattice of containment runes that glowed with steady precision. Its light pulsed faintly, rhythmic, almost alive.

  Serin did not waste time.

  “You were right to bring this in,” they said, voice composed and cool. “We’ve been testing it throughout the night.”

  Their gaze shifted briefly to the others, acknowledging Team Argent’s presence without comment, before returning to Eis.

  “It responds to thought,” Serin continued. “Not incantation.”

  Eis’s eyes sharpened slightly. “Thought?”

  “More precisely—intent,” Serin said. “When directed, it mimics the wielder’s mana signature.”

  Kael’s brow furrowed. “That sounds dangerous.”

  “And amplifies it,” Serin added calmly.

  Eis kept her expression still.

  “What does it do?” she asked.

  “It draws raw mana from between ley lines,” Serin replied. “Then feeds it directly to the user.”

  Lira inhaled quietly. “So whoever holds it doesn’t just cast more—they cast bigger.”

  “Unrestrained,” Serin agreed.

  They stepped closer to the containment field, studying the relic’s pulse as if listening to something only they could hear.

  “It’s also tethered,” Serin went on. “To another source far outside the city. A resonance we traced north.”

  Ronan straightened. “How far north?”

  “Near Valsyr’s border.”

  Eis nodded once. “Vauren. The captive mage mentioned a site—the Sun Vault.”

  Serin turned back to her. “That aligns with what we’re seeing. Whatever Vauren intends to complete requires a second relic. A paired construct.”

  Kael exhaled slowly. “So he’s not done.”

  “No,” Serin said. “And we don’t have the luxury of waiting.”

  For the first time, Serin’s gaze softened—just slightly—as it moved over the group.

  “I’ll speak with the Guildmaster immediately,” they said. “You will be contacted once a course of action is decided.”

  Their eyes settled on Eis again.

  “For now, all of you should rest. Whatever comes next will not be simple.”

  Eis inclined her head. “Understood.”

  Behind the containment runes, the relic pulsed faintly—steady, insistent.

  Eis returned to the inn. Slept. Ate. Cleaned her gear. Walked the city in daylight, noting patrol routes and changes in traffic without meaning to.

  The city continued.

  The next day, a runner found her near the guild hall.

  She arrived to find Ronan, Kael, and Lira already present, standing together outside the inner chambers. Their expressions told her enough.

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  They’d been summoned.

  The Guildmaster did not keep them waiting.

  His office was larger than most—high ceilings, tall windows, banners marking past contracts and victories lining the walls. He stood behind a broad desk, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid with restraint.

  “Sit,” he said.

  They did.

  The Guildmaster did not waste words.

  Before anyone could speak, he asked, “Has anyone here heard the name Vauren before?”

  The room stayed quiet.

  Ronan shook his head once.

  Lira frowned, thinking.

  Kael leaned back slightly. “No.”

  Eis remained silent at the edge of the room.

  The Guildmaster exhaled through his nose. “I expected as much.”

  He turned from the window and faced them fully.

  “Vauren was once an Archmage of Eldoria,” he said. “A prodigy. Brilliant. Especially gifted in one discipline.”

  Eis’s attention sharpened.

  “He could see internal mana flow,” the Guildmaster continued. “Not just sense it—read it. Every current, every knot, every flaw in how mana moved through a person.”

  Lira stiffened. “That kind of sight isn’t common.”

  “No,” the Guildmaster agreed. “And it broke him.”

  He folded his hands behind his back.

  “Vauren became obsessed with what he saw. Imperfect circulation. Asymmetries. Weak channels. People, to him, were unfinished designs.”

  Kael’s jaw tightened. “So he tried to fix them.”

  “Yes,” the Guildmaster said quietly. “Through augmentation. Alteration. Forced correction.”

  Silence settled heavier.

  “He experimented on living subjects,” the Guildmaster went on. “Slaves. Prisoners. Eventually civilians. He justified it as progress. As necessary cost.”

  Lira’s voice was tight. “And when the kingdom found out.”

  “He was stripped of rank and exiled,” the Guildmaster said. “Officially erased. But men like that do not stop—they adapt.”

  His gaze hardened.

  “That is why Vauren matters. He is not just a slaver. He is not just trafficking relics. He is trying to perfect people.”

  Kael leaned forward now. “Using relics to do it.”

  “Yes.”

  Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “So this issue can also be seen as Eldoria’s issue, not just a slaver unrelated to the kingdom.”

  Kael nodded. “So why aren’t soldiers already marching?”

  The Guildmaster’s jaw tightened—not irritation, but frustration.

  “Because if Eldoria sends troops north right now,” he said, “Valsyr will notice.”

  He turned and gestured to the marked map on the wall.

  “Tensions along the northern routes are already strained. Any official force crossing that line—even under law enforcement—could be read as provocation.”

  Ronan spoke evenly. “And adventurers?”

  The Guildmaster faced him again.

  “Adventurers cross borders every day,” he said. “They take contracts. They follow leads. They do not represent the crown.”

  A beat.

  “Which makes them deniable,” Kael said flatly.

  “Yes.”

  “And expendable,” Lira added under her breath.

  The Guildmaster did not correct her.

  “That is why this is not a general call,” he said. “I am summoning you.”

  His gaze moved deliberately from Ronan, to Kael, to Lira—and finally to Eis.

  “You have already drawn Vauren’s attention,” he said. “And you have proven capable of operating where others disappear.”

  Eis met his eyes without reaction.

  “You will head north,” the Guildmaster continued. “An Archmage will assist in following the trail. Confirm what he is attempting—and where.”

  Ronan’s voice remained steady. “And if we find him?”

  “Then you stop him,” the Guildmaster said. “If you can.”

  Silence filled the room.

  “This is not an order from the crown,” he added. “There will be no banners. No reinforcements. If the situation escalates beyond your control, you withdraw and report back.”

  Kael nodded once. “Understood.”

  Lira glanced at Eis, then back to the Guildmaster. “When do we leave?”

  “As soon as you’re able,” he said. “But I wouldn’t take longer than two days to prepare.”

  He stepped back, the briefing clearly over.

  “Be careful,” the Guildmaster said—not as a warning, but as a fact. “If Vauren is doing what we believe he is, this will not end cleanly.”

  Team Argent rose as one. Eis followed, already shifting her thoughts to roads, supplies, distance.

  North waited.

  Outside the Guildmaster’s office, Ronan slipped fully into command mode. “One day for gear. Cold-weather supplies, rope, climbing hooks. Kael and I will handle logistics.”

  Lira added, “I’ll secure a proper healer’s kit before the quartermaster notices it missing.”

  Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose—but didn’t stop her.

  Kael looked toward the northern horizon. “If the intel’s right, we’re walking into a controlled slaughter. Eis—prep whatever edge you can.”

  Eis nodded once. “I will.”

  Ronan gave her a faint, confident grin. “North gate. Two hours before dawn. And Eis?”

  She paused.

  “Don’t disappear this time.”

  Lira lifted a hand. “If she does, I’ll track her down.”

  Kael hummed. “She won’t.”

  Eis glanced toward the spires where sunlight danced across the canals—peaceful, almost deceptive.

  Tomorrow, they would head north.

  And whatever waited at the Sun Vault would change everything.