The storm had passed, but Elior couldn't shake the chill.
Kade was still gone. No trace, no body. The Veiled filed it under "Unresolved Hostile Encounter," like that made it easier to forget.
It didn't.
And then Mira called him.
Not in public. Not in the training yard. She left a folded note under his door.
Midnight. Archive 3. Come alone.
Archive 3 – Restricted Level
Elior had never been down here.
The hallway smelled of cold metal and old incense. Mira waited, leaning against a locked vault door, arms crossed. No smile.
"Don't speak," she said.
She pressed her hand to a glyph lock. The vault opened with a hiss.
Inside: an old chamber lined with copper-etched panels. Glowing softly. No windows. No watchers.
Then she spoke.
"You've seen the edge, haven't you?"
Elior stayed silent.
Mira's eyes were sharp. Exhausted. Scared.
"The Third Ring doesn't make you stronger.
It breaks you. It kills who you were—
—and builds something else in your place."
She tapped the metal wall. A section slid open. Inside: surveillance files.
Hundreds.
Photos. Names. Footage of people before… and after lighting their third Ring.
"Some survive. Most don't.
The rest… change."
Elior stepped closer. One photo caught his eye.
Kade.
Before: stoic, human.
After: A still from grainy footage. Eyes glowing. Skin cracking with light.
And behind him—the shadow of a worm-shaped glyph, spiraling endlessly.
"Vermis," Mira said.
"A faction obsessed with pushing the boundary of Rings. They want to force the Third Ring on unstable minds… and see what comes out."
"Why me?"
Elior's voice finally cracked the silence.
Mira looked at him for a long moment.
"Because your Ring didn't kill you.
Because you saw something in that hallway.
And because it saw you back."
He blinked. "It?"
Mira exhaled, then walked to a sealed locker. Opened it.
Inside was an old book. Real leather. Real bloodstains.
The title burned itself into Elior's eyes:
"On the Rings That Should Not Be"
And then—Elior heard it again.
A voice. Inside his head. Soft. Too close.
"Mira lies. But so do the stars.
Burn them all, and see what remains."
A Rift in the Field
That moment shattered when alarms wailed overhead.
Emergency glyphs flashed red.
Mira cursed and shoved the book back into the locker. "Let's go. Now."
They raced upstairs. Into the east yard. Something had exploded—space was tearing open.
Trainees stood frozen. Juno was already barking orders.
In the center of the rift—a boy. Maybe fourteen. Ring burning out of control.
"He just touched the Third Ring glyph!" someone shouted.
The boy screamed. His skin cracked like old wood. Energy spiraled outward in burning arcs.
They tried to contain it. Barriers shattered.
Elior didn't think.
He ran in.
He reached the center. The heat was unbearable. The glyph tried to crawl into his skin.
But Elior didn't burn.
He raised his palm. Both Rings pulsed—and merged for a heartbeat.
Then—he spoke. Or something in him did.
"Return."
The light collapsed inward.
Silence.
The rift vanished.
The boy collapsed, unconscious. Alive.
And Elior stood at the center of the scorch mark. Unharmed.
Everyone stared.
The Whisper Returns
That night, Elior sat alone in the dark. Mira hadn't said a word on the walk back.
But the voice returned.
Soft. Inside his skull.
"One more Ring, and you won't be theirs anymore."