Kolvar found himself on an island, quiet, humid, the sound of water lapping gently at the shore. But this wasn't Relt. The light was different. The gravity, the scent of the wind, the weight of the ground beneath his feet. No, this was unmistakably Idilia.
He knew this place.
The vines creeping along the rocky edges, the flat stone slabs embedded in the soil, even the hollow tree at the edge of the clearing, all of it pointed to one thing. This island had once been his base, back when he was assigned to handle clandestine operations for the Testament in this region.
What had just happened back there… he didn't know. But the person now seated before him, calm, relaxed, almost indifferent, was on a completely different level.
"Lord Kailu…" Kolvar said, carefully kneeling. "Thank you for saving me."
"Don't bother, uncle," Vulas replied casually.
Uncle? The word stopped Kolvar's heart for a moment. But he didn't move from the kneel. Didn't question it.
Vulas stood, brushing some invisible dust off his sleeve. He glanced once at Kolvar, his armor torn, his arm still bleeding, then looked away. "Anyway. There's something important we need to take care of."
He turned toward the edge of the island, where the mists drifted low over the water like smoke. "Would you mind taking me to the one in charge of the Quiet Testament here?"
Kolvar's throat felt dry. He hesitated for only a moment, then answered carefully.
"I don't know exactly who that would be at this moment… but I know someone who might."
Vulas gave him a small smile. "That's fine, uncle. As long as you're truthful and we're in agreement."
There was something in that smile that sent a chill down Kolvar's spine.
Still, he bowed once more and turned. Vulas followed without a word, and together, they disappeared into the mist - heading eastward.
In the heart of the federal capital, Fylsneas, the main administrative district rose in sharp, elegant layers of dark stone and shimmering glass. The building that housed the Governor's office, a towering structure of blackened alloy veined with silver-blue channels of flowing energy, sat at the center like a crown. It was old, one of the earliest constructions from the first days of elven settlement on Idilia, but its interiors were lined with the most advanced systems, constantly updated, blending extraordinary and technology in seamless harmony.
Inside, at the highest level, Governor Sontar Callis sat behind a long wooden desk. The windows behind him overlooked the entire capital. His hair was a deep, dark red, bordering on black when it caught the light, cut short, but sharply styled. His robes were lined with deep gold trim, and he wore a chestplate woven with embedded crystal threads, marking his status.
He was silent, eyes narrowed as he scanned the latest reports floating above his desk. His aides stood nearby, tense and waiting.
"Level 4 security alert…" he muttered, leaning back in his seat.
Normally, that would've sent him into immediate motion, ordering full scans, calling in military advisors, digging into off-world contacts, invoking the Elven Civilization's name, even trying to open a line of negotiation with the perpetrator. That was what protocol demanded.
But now... Now was different.
His ancestor was here.
His back had been straightened. There was a big man standing behind him now.
He looked at his aides.
"Triple the monitoring over the eastern belt. Pull back the scout units from the outer fringe and set up passive relay beacons. I want cloaked watchers positioned on all main routes."
The aides moved at once, fingers tapping into the interface.
"Keep the media lines frozen. Nothing leaks until we have full internal confirmation."
He stood up, adjusted his coat, and glanced at the darkened display now flickering with security grid overlays.
"I'll handle this personally," he said. "Make sure the command center is ready."
He was going to show Laeroth that the Callis bloodline hadn't gone soft.
In the apartment…
Shoowh—
The stone hovering in the air gave off a final pulse and settled midair, a thin lattice of dark lines locking together across its surface. For a moment, it glowed gently, a complete and stable formation.
Myrra gasped and clapped her hands. "It's done!"
She turned to Ian, beaming, her eyes bright with excitement.
Ian leaned back slightly, impressed. "Yup. You're the best."
Without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a quick, excited hug, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.
Enira raised an eyebrow, her tone playful and mock-offended. "What about me, huh?"
Myrra let go of Ian and turned to Enira with a mischievous grin. "You too." She pulled her into a warm squeeze. "Thank you."
Then, not missing a beat, she caught Flori, who had been trying to quietly inch away, and wrapped both him and Enira into the hug.
Flori's tiny face scrunched like a crushed pillow. He didn't fight back. He had already accepted his fate.
Ian laughed softly at the sight. He stood up and began to step away.
Myrra glanced back, still cradling Flori against her. "Where are you going?"
Ian paused, grabbed his tablet off the shelf. "Back to work."
Myrra groaned, letting her head fall dramatically against Enira's shoulder. "Ugh… come on. Let's have some fun now…"
Enira gave Ian a sideways glance, cool, subtle, but unmistakably a warning: You better do what she says.
She set Flori down. He flopped onto the couch like a sack of potatoes and didn't move.
"Let's go out," she said, tugging at Ian's arm. "I recently came across this place not far from here. It's quiet, tucked away… and smells amazing. You'll like it."
Ian chuckled and let himself be pulled along. "Lead the way."
Enira scooped up Flori, while Myrra tugged her forward with the other arm.
The next day, Ian returned to the facility. Last night, after visiting that place with Myrra, he had come straight back and fallen asleep. In the morning, he'd gone directly to the academy, and after finishing some work with Master Malon, he was finally back.
He looked toward the side terminal. The simulation he had started earlier was still running.
421,347,886 iterations.
It had crossed 400 million iterations, each step extending the structure further into theoretical dimensional constructs.
Ian sat down, eyes locked on the data feed. He began examining the results in detail, parsing through logs, simulation layers, and projection outputs. He tried various ways to visualize the structure, dimensional projections, spatial-flux mappings, tensor overlays.
And then something caught his eye.
A vague memory stirred. The structure… or more specifically, the pattern of symbols within it, reminded him of something. The Lunqra he had brought back from the power plant. Not the standard ones, but those corrupted or infected variants. He remembered that when light from the crystal had shone through them, strange patterns would briefly appear, faint symbols flickering in and out.
It was a long shot, but if there was even a small chance it was connected, he had to check.
The Lunqra was preserved in a cryogenic chamber, it was intact. But the crystal... that was with Flori. And Flori was with Myrra.
So, for now, he would have to wait.
Evening fell, and Myrra had already returned. Ian quietly retrieved the crystal from Flori, who gave it up with a grumble, and returned to the lab. The greenish Lunqra specimens sat inside a sealed chamber, faintly shifting. He'd already activated them with a light Kyrrite infusion, and they responded with a slow, irregular twitching, as though stirring from sleep.
He began the procedure, exposing them one by one to the light from the crystal.
As before, the greenish surface faded away, peeling into a soft gray-blue. Symbols began flickering across their bodies. Ian had already set up a full array of high-sensitivity spectral cameras.
This time, he was ready to catch everything.
Or so he thought.
After the procedure, he went straight to the control terminal, pulling up the camera feeds, frame by frame, layer by layer.
Nothing. Just a faint glow and the bare shell of the Lunqra.
Ian frowned, scrubbing through the footage again. Still nothing. He checked the filters, adjusted parameters, rewound and scanned every log frame.
Still blank.
Confused, he repeated the entire sequence again. Then again. The symbols were there, he had seen them. But nothing showed up on the recordings.
Eventually, he tried something else. Sitting down cross-legged, he activated the Mindbloom channel, letting his consciousness reach out and attempt a direct sensory sync with the objects.
For a brief moment, the symbol patterns rushed through his head like a current.
Then came the strain.
It was overwhelming. The structures twisted in ways his brain wasn't wired to interpret, and the pressure mounted, tight and sharp behind his eyes. A spike of pain throbbed down his spine, forcing him to break the connection and slump forward.
Breathing hard, he sat still, rubbing his temple.
He leaned back into the chair, staring at the monitor, mind circling around possible ways to capture the symbols. A soft hand came to rest on his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" Myrra's voice came gently from behind.
Ian turned, and there she stood, dressed in a smooth white nightdress that ended just above her knees, its edges trimmed with subtle silver threadwork. The neckline was soft and loose, slipping slightly off one shoulder. Her hair was still a little damp from a quick shower, tied loosely behind her head. The quiet light of the lab reflected faintly on her skin.
He didn't say anything. He just reached for her and pulled her gently into his lap, one arm wrapping around her waist. Myrra settled without resistance, folding easily into him, her legs curled over the side. She smelled faintly of lavender and something warmer, clean, familiar.
Ian closed his eyes for a moment, resting his face near her neck, drawing in the quiet comfort. Myrra brushed his hair back slowly and patted his head once.
He opened his eyes. "Yeah… just lost in something."
Myrra tilted her head, her hair sliding softly along her cheek. "What are you looking at?" she asked, her voice light as her gaze moved toward the setup across the room
Ian explained everything, walking her through the inconsistencies he'd found, the strange patterns that showed up only under certain conditions, and the symbols that never recorded no matter how many times he ran the experiment. Myrra listened quietly, her eyes moving between him and the setup.
Drawn by curiosity, she stepped forward and leaned over the chamber. The light from the crystal refracted through the Lunqra, casting rippling patterns against the glass. She narrowed her eyes, watching intently.
"I see something flicker," she said softly. "But it's hazy. I can't catch it properly. It's like it disappears the moment I focus."
Ian nodded from behind her. "That's expected. You haven't broken into the First Order yet."
He didn't mention the another reason he could perceive it so clearly, his Mindbloom-enhanced cognition. Without it, even he wouldn't be able to truly grasp the structure.
Myrra gave a small hum of understanding and returned without speaking. She settled into his lap again, arms resting around his neck, her warmth folding into his as if it were the most natural place to be.
"Have you tried making a capturing system based on the crystal itself?" she asked.
Ian sighed lightly. "Yeah… but that crystal's Flori's favorite. I haven't been able to find another like it. Unless it's a last resort, I'd rather not mess with it."
Myrra nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe we could check the mage instrument section in the arcane engineering wing. They have some recording devices tuned for various purposes. Might be something useful."
Ian considered that. It wasn't a bad idea. Their class tracks mostly overlapped, but she leaned more toward the mage path, focused on tools and constructs rather than core mechanics.
"Alright," he said. "Let's take a look tomorrow."
Myrra turned his face gently, pressed her lips to his, slow and unhurried. A quiet kiss, close, unspoken, and lingering just enough.
She pulled back, smiling softly. "Would you like to sleep now?"
"I'll join you in a bit," Ian replied.
She gave a small nod and stood, her fingers trailing off his shoulder as she walked away.