The journey to Vaelthorne had been long and arduous, the sun now dipping low on the horizon, casting stretched shadows across the dirt path. Kane walked alongside Since, his feet dragging slightly with each step. It had been nearly a full day since they left Wisthaven, and fatigue gnawed at his limbs. The journey was slow, tedious—each mile stretching endlessly before them.

Magic, as tempting as it was, remained strictly off-limits. The Magic Council’s laws were absolute—no aspiring mage master, no sorcerer-in-training, no magical aspirant of any kind was permitted to use magic for travel between cities. It was a test, they said. A test of endurance, resilience, discipline. Kane understood the purpose, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. A single teleportation spell could cut this journey down to mere minutes, yet here he was, trudging forward like a mere commoner.

His mind wandered, longing for the convenience of magic, when suddenly, an unsettling sensation began creeping into his skull. It was subtle at first—a tingling pressure behind his eyes. But within seconds, it sharpened into something far worse. A cold, unnatural sensation clawed its way into his brain, sending waves of dizziness crashing through him.

Kane stumbled, his breath hitching. His fingers shot to his temples, trying in vain to dispel the growing ache. Then, the world around him shifted.

The colors of the landscape swirled unnaturally, distorting and twisting into chaotic patterns. The sky darkened, a thick fog creeping at the edges of his vision, clouding everything in sight. His knees wobbled. His breath turned ragged. The sensation grew unbearable, an invisible weight pressing against his skull.

"Oh no..." Kane groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. His stomach twisted in nausea. "What... is happening?"

Ahead of him, Aldine halted mid-step, glancing back with sharp concern. She was at his side in seconds, her green eyes searching his face. "Kane? What’s wrong?"

Loer and Sylphira, noticing the sudden shift in his demeanor, rushed to him as well. Loer grabbed one of his shoulders, steadying him, while Sylphira crouched before him, gripping his other arm. Their movements were swift but controlled, urgent but careful.

Kaelith, however, remained where he was, a few paces behind. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. But his violet eyes gleamed with something almost... amused. He could feel it—the reason behind Kane’s suffering. His own aura, powerful and suffocating, was colliding with Kane’s, intertwining in an unseen battle.

But this was different. People feared him, yes. But they had never reacted like this before. Kane wasn’t just afraid. His mana was rejecting Kaelith’s presence entirely, recoiling as though trying to fight it off.

Kane gasped, gripping onto Sylphira for support. "You guys... this hurts," he choked out, his fingers tightening over his skull.

Sylphira wasted no time. With a swift motion, she guided him down until he was sitting on the ground. Loer let go of his shoulder, concern flickering across his usually impassive face.

Sylphira placed her hands over Kane’s shoulders, her fingers glowing with a faint, ethereal light. Her lips moved swiftly, chanting an incantation—an ancient spell woven with holy magic.

A gentle warmth spread through Kane’s body, soothing, comforting. His breath came easier. The pressure in his skull began to fade, the pain ebbing away like retreating waves.

Loer and Aldine exhaled—relief clear on their faces. They hadn’t even realized they were holding their breath.

Kane took a shaky inhale, his body finally relaxing.

Sylphira studied him closely, her brows furrowed. "What do you think caused this?" she asked, her voice calm but firm. "This wasn’t normal pain."

Kane opened his mouth, but before he could answer, the pain slammed back into him like a tidal wave. His body jerked violently, and he collapsed forward, catching himself on his palms.

The world spun. His vision blurred.

"It’s painful..." Kane muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His breathing turned ragged, desperate. "Really painful..."

Sylphira’s spell had only lasted a moment before failing entirely. She reeled back, her hands trembling slightly. Aldine’s face paled, her mind racing. That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Loer cursed under his breath, his gaze flickering to Kaelith. And still, Kaelith simply watched. No urgency, no concern—just quiet observation. His lips curled ever so slightly.

Then—

A sudden, sharp whistle split through the air.

In the next instant, a streak of ice shot forward, cutting through the dusk like a dagger.

Loer barely had time to react before the jagged shard struck his right arm with brutal force. His breath hitched—then turned into a sharp cry of pain as crimson bloomed against his sleeve.

Blood seeped through the fabric, dark and glistening. His fingers instinctively clutched at the wound, his face twisting in agony.

Aldine’s eyes widened in horror.

Kane’s heart slammed against his ribs. His head snapped up, breath still uneven.

Sylphira was already on her feet, her magic flaring to life again, her expression fierce.

And Kaelith?

Kaelith finally moved, stepping forward, his lips parting into a slow, eerie grin.

"Ah..." he mused, tilting his head slightly. "Now, things are getting interesting."

Aldine was at Loer’s side in an instant, her breath catching in her throat. Panic flashed through her green eyes as she grabbed his wounded arm, her fingers trembling slightly. Blood seeped through his sleeve, dark against the fabric, dripping onto the frozen earth beneath them.

"Loer!" she gasped, her voice tight with concern.

Loer clenched his jaw, forcing a pained smirk despite the agony burning through his limb. "I’m fine," he lied, though his voice came out strained, betraying him.

Kane and Sylphira stood tense, their bodies coiled, eyes scanning the shadowed treeline. The warm hues of dusk had all but faded, replaced by an eerie stillness. The once lively air had turned frigid, sharp like a blade against their skin.

Kane’s pulse pounded in his ears, his muscles stiff with adrenaline. His voice came out low, uncertain. "What the hell...?"

Before anyone could react, another attack ripped through the air—a shard of ice whistling past Aldine’s head, missing her by mere inches. It embedded itself into a nearby tree with a sickening crack, and immediately, frost spread like veins along the bark, consuming it. The vibrant greens of the leaves curled inwards, dying within seconds, turning brittle and white. The ground beneath them froze, the blades of grass snapping under the weight of their boots.

Aldine shuddered, stepping back, her breath visible now in the unnatural chill. "What the—" Her voice was barely above a whisper, shaken.

Then, cutting through the thickening fog, a voice emerged—cold, sharp, and devoid of warmth.

"Where is he?"

The four turned sharply, their breath catching in their throats as a figure emerged from the swirling mist.

A boy, young—too young to wield such power—stood before them. His presence was unnatural, otherworldly. His hair was the color of fresh ice, crystalline white, blending seamlessly into the frost swirling around him. A spellbook rested in his gloved hand, its pages glowing faintly, pulsing with an ominous energy. But it was his eyes—those fogged white eyes—that sent a chill through Kane’s spine.

Sylphira’s fingers curled instinctively, her breath measured but ready.

Kane’s gaze sharpened, his mind racing. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady despite the unease curling in his gut. "Are you the one who attacked Loer?"

The boy remained silent, his face void of emotion, his focus unshaken.

"Where is the Hateborn mage?" His voice was as cold as the ice encasing the trees, empty of all feeling.

Kane exchanged a sharp glance with Aldine before turning back to the boy, irritation flickering through his confusion. "I don’t know who the hell the Hateborn mage is," he snapped. "Why attack us?"

The boy didn’t respond. He simply lifted his hand.

A sudden, powerful surge of ice shot toward Kane, the very air cracking under its force. Kane barely had time to move before the attack slammed toward him. He dove to the side, hitting the frozen ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Ice shards exploded where he had just stood, jagged remnants embedding themselves into the ground like spears.

"Hey! What’s your problem?" Kane growled, pushing himself up, his hands scraped and trembling.

But the boy’s expression remained unchanged, his focus locked onto him. There was something terrifying in his gaze—something relentless.

"The mage," the boy repeated, his tone unyielding.

Sylphira stepped forward, her holy magic thrumming beneath her fingertips, light crackling at her palms. "We don’t know any Hateborn mage," she said firmly, trying to mask the growing tension in her voice. "If you have a quarrel, it isn’t with us."

The boy showed no sign of listening. Instead, he flipped open his spellbook, and at once, the air thickened. The ground beneath them groaned under an unseen weight as glowing runes pulsed across the pages.

Then, without warning, the air filled with an eerie, shimmering light.

Massive snowballs—glowing unnaturally, almost translucent—manifested above him, crackling with raw power. They hovered, ominous, before rocketing toward Kane at terrifying speed.

Kane barely had time to react. He scrambled to his feet, darting behind the nearest tree, but it did little to protect him.

The first snowball struck, and the tree split in half.

A deafening crack echoed through the frozen clearing as the splintered remains crashed to the ground. Shattered wood and ice scattered in all directions, leaving Kane completely exposed.

A sharp panic surged through him—he was defenseless. Vulnerable. No magic he could immediately use, no weapons, nothing.

No.

Not nothing.

Something deep inside him—something dark, something ancient—stirred. His fingers twitched. A pulse of energy curled through his veins, thick and suffocating.

Desperation overtook him. He didn’t think. He just moved.

His arm shot up, instinct guiding him, and before he could even process what he was doing, a black swirl of energy tore through the air.

The force was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

A violent wind ripped through the clearing as the dark magic spiraled toward the ice mage. The boy’s eyes widened, but his reaction was fast—too fast. He twisted his body, narrowly dodging the attack.

But the trees behind him weren’t so lucky.

The moment the black magic touched them, they withered.

Leaves curled inward and blackened. Bark cracked and peeled away, crumbling into lifeless dust. The vibrant snowy trees was erased within seconds, leaving only a graveyard of twisted, skeletal remains.

The air grew deathly still.

Kane stood frozen, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hands still tingling from the aftermath of the spell.

What the hell was that?

Sylphira and Aldine stared at him, their expressions unreadable, but Loer’s face twisted in something close to shock.

And then—

A slow, amused chuckle.

Kaelith, who had remained eerily silent this entire time, finally spoke.

"Oh," he mused, his golden eyes gleaming with something dark.

His lips curled into a grin.

"How interesting."

The ice mage’s glare darkened as his silver eyes locked onto Kane. Without hesitation, he raised his hand, and the air crackled with the sheer force of his magic. He didn’t need his spellbook—this power was embedded in his very being.

A barrage of icicles erupted from his palm, sharp as daggers, hurtling toward the four at an unforgiving speed. The sheer number of them made it impossible to dodge; they would be skewered if they didn’t act fast.

Loer felt his throat go dry, his pulse hammering against his ribs. He knew ice. He knew how it pierced. How it shredded. Sand wouldn’t be enough to stop something so lethal.

But it was all he had.

He gritted his teeth, raising his uninjured arm with effort. His body bent slightly as he slammed his palm against the frozen earth. At once, a wall of sand erupted from the ground, thick and towering, shielding them. But Loer wasn’t naive. Ice was sharp. Sand was loose. Dissolvable. Not completely solid. One wall wouldn’t be enough.

So he created many.

Like dominos, layer after layer of sand barriers formed, cascading forward just as the icicles struck. The walls shattered one by one, ice spearing through them, but the multiple layers dulled their force. The deadly shards lost trajectory, spinning wildly in different directions, embedding themselves harmlessly into the earth around them.

Loer exhaled sharply. His body gave out. His knees slammed against the cold ground.

Aldine was there before he collapsed completely, grabbing his shoulders. "Loer!" she hissed, struggling to keep him upright. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the trembling of his body from exertion. The walls of sand had done their job, but even they had their limits.

She watched, helpless, as they began to crumble.

One by one, the protective layers of sand sank back into the ground, vanishing as if they had never existed. The momentary shield was gone.

Aldine clenched her jaw. She had to do something. She had to protect them. But she couldn’t. Not like this. Not with her magic.

Not without breaking the promise.

Her fingers dug into Loer’s arms, frustration curling in her gut. Duty chained her. The weight of it crushed her. She couldn’t help, even as her friends bled, even as they struggled to breathe. She had sworn an oath, and that oath shackled her hands.

Loer’s breathing was uneven, sweat beading his forehead. Kane, too, was suffering. He had used his magic despite his mental wounds, despite his own pain. They were both fighting through agony, yet she—she was standing here, useless.

A slow chuckle broke the silence.

Kaelith smirked, tilting his head as he observed the ice mage through violet eyes gleaming with intrigue. His lips curled as the last grains of sand disappeared.

"So," Kaelith mused, stepping forward, his tone almost amused. "Terra’s chosen was with us all along."

The ice mage scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. His focus remained on Loer.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he clasped his hands together.

Above them, the sky trembled.

A massive crystal circle began forming overhead, its surface smooth, pristine, and blindingly beautiful. The light it cast was unnatural—too pure, too sharp, as though reality itself rejected it. The very air around them hummed with raw power.

Sylphira clicked her tongue in frustration, her grip tightening into fists. She recognized that spell. She knew what was coming.

This was not something they could simply shield themselves from.

She was a defense mage, her holy magic built to heal, to protect. But it could not counter this. It could not stop what was about to happen.

Kaelith frowned, his smirk slipping slightly as he watched the formation. His distaste was evident. Magic should not be this beautiful.

And then—

The crystal shattered.

Shards of ice and snow needles rained down, faster than the eye could see. There was no time to react. No time to run. The frozen daggers tore through the air, their sharp edges gleaming with the promise of death.

Kaelith didn’t hesitate.

In a single movement, he grabbed Kane and—vanished.

Dissolving into the earth like ink into water, he pulled them both away from the onslaught. The moment Kane felt the ground swallow him, his breath hitched. It was suffocating. Cold. Endless.

And then, just as quickly as they had disappeared, they re-emerged.

Right behind the ice mage.

Loer, still on his knees, forced himself to move. His uninjured hand trembled as he raised it once more, the pain screaming through his body. Grass blades burst from the ground, twisting, curling, layering over his and the two girls’ heads like a woven shield.

The snow needles struck, piercing through the leaves, slicing through the grass, but the thick weaving held—barely. The force of the attack drove Loer’s palms into the dirt, his nails digging into the soil as he fought to keep the barrier intact.

The needles were razor-sharp. A direct hit would not wound. It would kill.

Kaelith who had reappeared behind the ice mage, released Kane from his grasp. He moved quickly, his hands reaching out—gripping the boy’s shoulders in a firm hold.

The ice mage shuddered.

And in that moment, he made a mistake.

He turned. Instinct. Fear. He twisted away from Kaelith, stepping back in a desperate attempt to break free.

But Kaelith was already one step ahead.

A single snap of his fingers—

And his body changed.

His form melted and shifted, flesh contorting like liquid, until—

She stood there.

A woman. A woman from the ice mage’s mind.

Elies - the ice mage as the name etched across the cover of his grimoire read. The once cold, ruthless mage collapsed onto his knees, his breath leaving him in a sharp gasp.

His silver eyes, once so unyielding, widened in pure, unfiltered terror.

His hands trembled. His lips parted, but no words came.

He scrambled backward, away from Kaelith, away from her.

Sylphira watched, her expression darkening as realization dawned on her. Kaelith wasn’t just shifting his appearance—he had become her. The woman Elies feared most. The one who haunted him.

Kaelith smiled, stepping closer, his presence suffocating. "Oh, little mage," he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery. "You look pale."

Kane, still breathless, watched in awe. His heart pounded against his ribs, adrenaline surging through his veins. "Whoa..." he muttered, stunned. "That’s... powerful."

But even as he marveled at Kaelith’s magic, his own body betrayed him.

The strain was too much.

His knees buckled.

Pain flared in his chest.

With a sharp gasp, Kane collapsed, his vision swimming. His fingers curled weakly into the frozen earth as agony wracked through his limbs. He had already been internally wounded with pain. Already exhausted. Using his power had only made it worse.

And now, he was paying the price.