The sun did not rise the next morning. Instead, a dull grey light bled across the sky like an old wound reopening. The Sanctuary stood hushed and brittle, its walls colder than stone. Glyphs that once hummed with soft light were now still, their magic sleeping or perhaps too afraid to wake. Velmorith's presence had left more than ruin—it had left a hole in the air, a shadow in the hearts of everyone.
Frank sat on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard, where the once-crystal water now reflected only bleak skies and uncertain futures. His hand hovered over his glyph mark, tracing the faint glow pulsing beneath the skin. His mind was full of fragments—of Velmorith's words, of Neolin's shocked realization, and of the legend that whispered through his blood. The heir of the Forgotten Guardian. It sounded heroic. It felt hollow.
Tom approached quietly, careful not to disturb the strange silence that wrapped around the courtyard like a shroud. He handed Frank a warm cup of rootbrew and sat beside him. They didn't speak immediately.
"I keep thinking it was a dream," Frank said, his voice rough. "That he wasn't real. That none of this is."
Tom gave a faint nod. "I think that's how real monsters work. They make you doubt even the truth."
Frank sipped the brew, stared at the water. "You ever feel like you're someone else? Not in a weird way. Just... like something is inside you that doesn't belong?"
Tom looked away for a moment. "Yeah. Since Palecto first spoke to me. It's not possession. It's... legacy. A part of something ancient, something forgotten. I guess you're feeling that too."
Frank gave a small, dry laugh. "Legacy. Sounds better than curse."
Elsewhere in the Sanctuary, the others went through the motions of routine. Marcus trained with Zane in the outer hall, though their movements lacked the fire they once had. Peter buried himself in Neolin's books, surrounded by pages that smelled of dust and age. Lucy and Kitty moved in silence, restoring wards in the eastern wing, their conversation quiet and filled with glances.
Neolin had vanished into the deeper chambers. No one dared disturb him.
By evening, he called them all to the war room. The chamber felt heavier than before. Burned scrolls and cracked maps were strewn across the table. The lingering smell of smoke from Velmorith's magic hung faintly in the air. Neolin stood before them, more solemn than ever.
"You survived a visit from a monster once sealed beyond the edges of our world," he began. "That is not a victory. That is a warning. He tested you. And he will return. Not alone."
He gestured to the wall, which shimmered with glyphlight, revealing three points of light arranged in a triangle. One of them was flickering erratically.
"Velmorith's seal has broken. The other two—Aestra Voxis and Obruhn Saren—remain sealed. But that will not last."
Kitty folded her arms. "So we find them first. We stop them from rising."
Neolin looked grim. "You won't be able to stop them. Not completely. But you can delay them. You can prepare."
Peter stood up from his seat. "Then give us something. Anything. Where do we begin?"
Neolin pointed at the flickering glyph. "Hollow Vale. There's a ruin beneath it—Shav'Alin. Obruhn's tomb lies there. I believe Velmorith will go there next. If we reach it first, we may have a chance to reinforce the seal."
Marcus leaned in. "We leave at dawn then."
Zane glanced at Frank. "Are you coming? Because I don't think any of us are ready to face this without you."
Frank looked up slowly. The doubt was still there in his eyes, but beneath it—something sharper. Something old.
"I'm coming. I want answers. And if they want war, we give them a fight they won't forget."
Neolin gave a faint nod. "Then you rest tonight. You'll need all your strength. The Hollow Vale is a cursed place. No light enters its heart. And in that dark... Obruhn is listening."
That night, as darkness fell like a curtain over the Sanctuary, the children lay awake in their rooms, restless. Their breaths were slow, their minds echoing with fears they couldn't speak aloud. None of them slept well.
And far away, beneath crumbled stone and roots older than time, deep within the forgotten ruins of Shav'Alin, the second seal cracked.
Obruhn stirred.