Kael walked alongside the princess through the still partially destroyed corridors of the Academy.

The walls, once gleaming with arcane inscriptions, now displayed cracks covered with patches of light—improvised containment runes that pulsed with a gentle rhythm, supporting the structure.

The sound of footsteps echoed between the cracked columns. Wherever they passed, students and mages bowed or offered brief greetings. There was respect, but also curiosity—few understood exactly who this woman of stately bearing walking beside Kael was.

The princess walked with grace, even under the weight of the circumstances. Her simple white robe, embroidered in silver, contrasted with the surrounding scenery. Her posture was impeccable, every step measured, but her eyes—a cold and distant blue—revealed the exhaustion of the past few days.

Umbra, invisible, accompanied them in silence. For the first time, she made no sarcastic comments. She simply observed.

When they reached the large double doors of the director's main hall, two guards opened the way, bowing slightly. The Academy's crest, engraved in bronze, had been hastily restored, and there were still rust stains on the symbol.

Kael knocked lightly.

A deep, tired but firm voice answered from within:

"Enter."

The door creaked open.

Director Altharion's office was spacious, but chaos reigned.

Stacked books, open scrolls of parchment, restoration runes floating in the air. The smell of fresh ink and healing potions permeated the room. Behind the central desk, the old mage seemed more human than ever—without his ceremonial robe, wearing only a dark tunic, his face marked by exhaustion.

Even so, his presence still commanded respect.

"Kael." His voice carried a note of contained relief. "I thought it would take longer."

Kael approached, with his usual tired half-smile. "I don't usually do sightseeing on the lower levels, so I decided to come back early."

A slight chuckle escaped Altharion, who shook his head. "You've always had a knack for irony, young man."

Kael looked at the princess, and after a brief gesture of respect, spoke:

"At the request of Raven—the witch of the northwest forest—I personally brought the princess of Skald here. I believe she will be safer inside the Academy than anywhere else in Azalith."

The director's eyes softened. "Yes... I had already been informed."

"So you already knew?" Kael raised an eyebrow.

Altharion leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands on the table. "Raven sent me a raven three nights ago. She said you were involved. And that the princess had entrusted her protection to you."

Kael remained silent for a moment, surprised, but didn't show it.

"It seems nothing escapes her notice."

"Nor mine," replied Altharion, with a subtle glint in his eyes. "The King of Skald and I... we have an old bond. We were allies in another era—before Azalith was what it is today."

The princess, who until then had remained silent, stepped forward. She bowed slightly, the gesture filled with nobility and respect.

"Your Magnificence, it is an honor to finally meet you. I am Elowen of Skald."

Altharion stood up, leaning lightly on the table. "The honor is mine, Highness. Your father and I fought side by side in the Border Wars. He was a man of unwavering courage."

The princess's eyes shone with something between pride and melancholy. "My father always spoke of you. He said that, among the mages of Azalith, you were the only one who fought with your heart before magic."

A small smile crossed Altharion's face. "He was exaggerating. But I am grateful for his words."

Kael watched in silence. It was rare to see the old director show emotion.

"Raven asked me to bring her here," Kael continued, "And I discovered that Skaldi has probably already been completely taken over by someone greater."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Even the floating runes in the air seemed to hesitate, dimming their glow, as if the room itself waited for the words that would come.

Elowen maintained her composure for a few seconds, but Kael noticed—subtle, almost imperceptible—the tremor in her hands. She took a deep breath before speaking, and her voice, though firm, carried a contained sadness.

"Skald... has fallen."

The words hung in the air like a funeral bell.

Kael lowered his gaze, his jaw clenched. Altharion remained motionless, observing her with the gravity of someone who already suspected, but still needed to hear it from the source itself.

"Elowen," the director said calmly, "tell us what happened."

She closed her eyes for a moment—perhaps to contain the memories—and then began, her voice low, but clear.

"Three weeks ago, the first breach appeared north of Thassir, in the Iron Mountains. Our scouts reported mana distortions, portals opening in the air... and creatures emerging from them. Not common demons—but something more... intelligent. They moved with purpose. Coordinated."

"You agree they were commanded by someone," Kael murmured, completing her thought.

"Yes." She nodded. "We didn't know who at first. But, little by little, it became clear. The forces that took Skald weren't seeking conquest. They sought dominion. The corruption spread quickly. Entire cities fell silent in a single night. And, when we realized... it was already too late."

The princess clasped her hands in front of her chest. Her gaze distant, as if reliving every moment.

"My father gathered the Court Mages, the Golden Knights, and the Council of Runes. I was with him in the war room when the inner wall fell. The mana flames consumed everything—and with them... came the voices."

"My father fought to the end," Elowen continued, her voice beginning to falter. "Even when the palace was already burning, he refused to retreat. He ordered me to be taken to the emergency portal, along with the last seal of protection of the kingdom. He said that as long as I lived... Skald would still have hope."

She paused for a long moment. The cold gleam of determination replaced the pain in her eyes.

"I didn't obey him immediately. I tried to stay. I tried to fight. But when I saw... what took hold of him—"

Her voice broke.

Kael stepped forward, his tone low but firm.

"Elowen... what did you see?"

Her eyes lifted, and for an instant, he saw in them the reflection of hell. "My father was taken. Corrupted. The same energy that consumed the walls, the mages, the runes... devoured his soul. He didn't die—he transformed."

The runes in the office flickered with the tension in her voice, reacting to the surge of emotion.

"I saw his eyes open... and there was nothing human in them anymore. Only a scarlet void—and a voice that wasn't his. That whispered my name as if savoring a victory."

Silence returned.

Even the sound of the wind outside seemed to cease.

Altharion lowered his gaze, and when he spoke, his voice was grave and heavy with weight.

"So... the King of Skald fell under the dominion of the Origin."

Umbra let out an almost inaudible sound.

"Origin..." she repeated, disdainfully. "The root of all manipulation."

Kael remained silent.

The words "dominion of the Origin" echoed in his mind like muffled thunder. He knew that name—not as an entity, but as a concept. Something that predated hell itself. A force ancient enough to have been erased from all known records, and yet, still whispered in nightmares and forbidden texts.

The Origin.

The source of corruption.

The shadow that even hell dared not claim as its own.

Elowen looked away, taking a deep breath to contain the wave of emotion that threatened to break her composure. The silence between them stretched until Altharion rose completely, his aura shifting—the exhaustion giving way to an ancestral gravity, the kind of presence that made the surrounding runes react, attuning themselves to the power that pulsed within him once more.

"This changes everything," the director murmured. "If the king was corrupted by the Origin... then Skald is not just lost. It is cursed." "And the worst part," Kael added, crossing his arms, "is that it won't stop there. This energy... it spreads like a disease. It will consume entire kingdoms if there isn't someone to stop it."

He looked at Elowen. "You brought the seal of protection, didn't you?"

She nodded, touching the silver necklace around her neck. Inside the oval pendant, a fragment of crystal shimmered in soft shades of blue and gold—pulsing like a weak heart.

"The last Seal of Skald," she said, lowering her eyes. "Forged by the Council of Runes. It contains part of my father's essence... the part that was still human. Before..."

She hesitated, unable to finish.

Altharion approached slowly, his eyes fixed on the jewel. "So he still fights," he murmured. "Even corrupted, there is still a fragment of him trying to resist."

The old mage extended his hand, but stopped in mid-air, hesitating.

"I can feel it. Fatigue, fear... but also purpose. He knew you would bring this to me."

Elowen raised her face. "He told me you would understand what to do."

"I understand," Altharion replied, his voice low. "But what I must do may cost more than you imagine."

Kael raised an eyebrow. "You're thinking of activating the Seal, aren't you?"

"Not now."

The director sighed. "But eventually, we'll have to use it to track the extent of the corruption. The Origin feeds on living mana. If Skald has fallen, it's only a matter of time until the same poison infiltrates the energy lines connecting the realms."

Umbra, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke—her voice resonating inside Kael's mind with a harsh, almost nervous tone.

"You know what that means, don't you? This thing isn't infernal. It's primordial. It consumes entire planes… and it doesn't distinguish between good and evil."

Kael clenched his fists, responding mentally.

So it's worse than I thought.

Altharion walked around the table, approaching the broken window that overlooked the gardens under reconstruction. The night wind swept through the space, carrying with it the smell of dust and newly planted flowers.

"A thousand years ago," he began, "there were scattered records about the Origin. Not as an entity, but as an imbalance—a rupture in the very flow of creation. It doesn't just corrupt bodies or minds… it alters the very reason of things. It makes reality bend around it."

Kael let out a short, humorless laugh. "So basically we're dealing with a cosmic cancer."

Altharion gave him a warning look. "Don't mock what you barely understand, young man. The last time this force manifested, the gods almost went extinct."

Elowen looked up, frightened. "So… there's no way to cure my father?"

The silence that followed was the answer.

But Altharion, perhaps out of mercy, added softly:

"There is always a way. But sometimes, the path requires sacrifices that even the gods cannot bear to pay."

Kael looked away, his jaw clenched. "If there's a way, we'll find it. But first… we need to understand who is guiding this corruption. If it moves with purpose, then someone—or something—is behind it."

Umbra whispered:

"And it's not Lilith."

Kael replied in a low voice, almost as a reminder to himself:

"Lilith may be a demon, but she's not stupid. She thrives on chaos, not destruction. What happened in Skald is… too systematic to be her work."

"I agree," said Altharion, nodding. "Lilith is volatile, but predictable. The Origin, on the other hand, is the absence of purpose. It corrupts by existing. Someone—or something—must have awakened it."

"So we have two questions," said Kael, straightening up. "Who freed it… and where is it now?"