While Arty was gone, Sylmira was still sitting alone in her chamber. She didn't immediately move to do her task.

The sound of rain lashing against the tall windows filling the silence. Now that the room was empty, her own thoughts felt louder than ever.

The faint tremor in her fingers when she reached for her teacup told her that something was wrong. It was not just with the world outside, but within her.

The storm's energy had seeped into the air, making even the candles flicker with strange colors, their flames bending toward the window as if drawn to the chaos outside.

She stared at them absently. Her sharp mind replayed every warning she had sensed since morning.

The leyline's vibration was clear. But then there were the dead birds found near the western wall. And now, this heavy choking feeling is sitting in her chest like a stone.

She closed her eyes and tried to still her thoughts. Her heartbeat felt out of rhythm, pulsing with a strange echo.

"It's just the stress," she told herself. "Too many things at once. My body reacts to tension the same way the leylines react to this disruption."

But deep inside, her instincts whispered otherwise.

Sylmira had lived through wars and cataclysms before like plagues or dark Mage.

She knew fear. She knew the shape of danger. What she felt now didn't feel like ordinary fear. It felt personal. As if something unseen was reaching out to her specifically, brushing at the edges of her consciousness.

She rose from her chair and walked to the window. Her pale and cold reflection in the glass stared back at her, framed by streaks of lightning.

For a moment, she thought she saw a second outline behind her, a silhouette of something tall and shifting.

She spun around sharply. Her hand glowing with blue light, ready to cast.

But the room was empty. The glow dimmed slowly in her palm, leaving only the soft hum of the storm.

Her lips pressed tight. She hated this. She hated feeling uncertain and when her reason failed to explain what she sensed.

Magic obeyed some kind of logic and pattern she understood, and yet tonight everything felt more different.

The air itself pulsed with a rhythm that clashed with the world's natural order as if two opposing hearts beat within the same body.

She sat again, gripping the edge of the table. A faint dizziness washed over her.

She reached for a crystal sphere beside her. It was a sensor for leyline flux, and held it near her chest.

Its color shifted from calm blue to a sickly gray now. Her brows furrowed.

"The flow is fluctuating even here!" she muttered. "That shouldn't happen inside this fortress that was covered by my barrier."

The realization sent another chill through her.

For an instant, she considered calling Arty to go back again, but she dismissed the thought. The girl was probably already preparing herself, and Sylmira did not want to spread panic before she understood what she was facing.

She needed proof. She needed control over this situation.

The thunder roared again, shaking the glass panes.

Sylmira steadied her breath and rose once more, turning toward the small altar in the corner of her room.

Her hand hovered above the sigil of protection she had drawn there long ago. It was a gift from her late mentor, meant to guard her mind from outside influence.

But tonight, the sigil's light flickered uncertainly.

Her voice, low and almost trembling, escaped her lips. "If even you are fading… then something truly ancient has begun to move, again."

Outside, the lightning flared again, illuminating the fortress spires for an instant, and in that flash Sylmira thought she saw a shape far beyond the north side. It was a figure with long flowing hair floating in the air.

—

Adrius knew what he saw. That figure was not born of illusion, it was real.

The storm parted around it as if the wind itself bent to its will. It had a tall and muscular build, its long dark blue hair flowing through the rain, strands twisting with every pulse of thunder.

From the distance, it resembled a man, but no man could float freely in the heart of a chaotic Magic storm.

He narrowed his eyes, water streaming down his face as his cloak snapped in the gale.

The soldiers beside him couldn't see clearly through the blinding flashes and sheets of rain, but they heard the certainty in his tone when he gave order before.

That alone was enough. Adrius's voice carried authority no one dared question.

Metal scraped, boots thudded across the rampart stone, and the air thickened with gathering Magic. Even the generals who might have demanded confirmation, now moved without argument.

The figure drew closer fast. Every flash of lightning revealed it clearer. Now they could make out more than its shape. Its eyes glowed faintly, blue as lightning veins, and every drop of rain that struck its body turned instantly into steam.

A few soldiers muttered prayers under their breath.

One of the younger knights whispered, "Is that… a spirit?"

Another answered with a hoarse voice, "No spirit I've seen burns through rain like that."

Adrius raised his hand, the sigils etched into his bracer flaring alive.

"Hold your line!" he shouted. The command boomed across the rampart, steady and absolute. "No one breaks formation!"

Then he pressed his other palm to the ground. Blue energy surged through the stone beneath his boots, spreading outward in glowing circuits.

A web of runes came alive across the sector. It was a powerful reinforcement barrier spell.

The air shimmered, forming a dome that pushed back the storm's fury for a moment.

The figure halted midair, a short distance away from the barrier. The wind screamed between them, thunder cracked above.

Every Mage and knight on the wall stared upward, eyes wide. The figure looked down at them. His expression is calm.

His eyes pulsed with light as if scanning them. And then a vibration filled the air from the being itself.

Then suddenly the figure raised his arm.

—