The streets of the underground city were cloaked in darkness, with only the faint glow of the enchanted crystals illuminating the narrow alleyways. The city hummed with activity, the pulse of magic coursing beneath the surface. As Caelan walked through the twisting streets, the weight of the book in his satchel seemed to grow heavier with each step.
The text Thornwyn had given him was more valuable than any spell or incantation he had studied at the academy. It held fragments of knowledge long forgotten—pieces of a puzzle that, once complete, would reveal the true nature of Aether. Caelan's fingers twitched at the thought. The academy had tried to suppress this knowledge, to bury it along with the failures of their past. But now that knowledge was in his hands.
He pulled the hood of his cloak lower, hiding his face as he passed groups of cloaked figures in the street. The underground city was more alive at night, with mages of all kinds moving in and out of the shadows, conducting business in secret. Winstor may have been the center of magical education, but the true power of the city lay here—in the dark, where the academy's reach was weaker.
As Caelan turned down a side alley, he felt a familiar presence, a subtle shift in the air that told him he wasn't alone. He stopped, his hand instinctively moving toward the dagger at his side. The runes on his skin flickered beneath his cloak, reacting to the growing tension.
"You've been gone a long time, Varyn," a voice called from the shadows.
Caelan didn't move. He knew that voice. Cold, calculated, and laced with disdain.
From the darkness, a figure stepped into the dim blue light. Valkar Draith. The man was an enforcer—one of Aldric's most trusted agents. His face was sharp, angular, his eyes cold and unfeeling. His black cloak billowed slightly as he moved, the edge of a blade glinting at his side.
"You've been back less than a day, and already you're making waves," Valkar continued, his voice low. "Aldric won't be pleased to hear about your return."
Caelan's jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. "I didn't come back to please Aldric."
Valkar smirked, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "No, I imagine you didn't. But your little reunion with Thornwyn won't go unnoticed. You should know better than to think you can hide from him."
"I'm not hiding," Caelan replied, his voice cold. "And I'm not afraid of Aldric."
Valkar's smirk faded, and his eyes narrowed. "You should be."
The tension in the air thickened, and Caelan felt the runes on his skin pulse with energy. Valkar was dangerous—there was no doubt about that—but Caelan had faced worse. He had survived Aldric's experiment, escaped the academy, and spent years studying the darkest and most powerful forms of magic. Valkar Draith was nothing compared to what Caelan had already endured.
"I don't have time for this," Caelan said, his voice sharp. "If you're here to deliver a message from Aldric, do it. Otherwise, get out of my way."
Valkar's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, and for a moment, Caelan thought the man might draw it. But instead, Valkar took a slow step forward, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Aldric doesn't need to send a message," Valkar said softly. "He'll come for you himself soon enough. But first, he'll enjoy watching you squirm. He likes to play with his prey."
Caelan's lips curled into a faint smile. "Then he's in for a disappointment."
Valkar's eyes flashed with anger, and in one swift motion, he drew his sword, the blade catching the faint light of the crystals. Caelan didn't flinch. His fingers twitched at his side, and the runes along his arms flared to life.
Valkar lunged.
Caelan moved faster than most would have thought possible, his magic surging through him as he sidestepped the attack. His hand shot out, tracing a rune in the air. The symbol burned with energy, and before Valkar could react, the force of the spell slammed into him, knocking him back into the wall of the alley.
Valkar grunted, his sword clattering to the ground as he staggered to his feet. His eyes blazed with fury, and for a moment, Caelan thought he might strike again. But instead, Valkar straightened, brushing the dust from his cloak.
"You've gotten stronger," Valkar admitted, his voice filled with contempt. "But strength won't save you from what's coming."
"I'll take my chances," Caelan replied, his voice calm.
Valkar sheathed his sword, his gaze never leaving Caelan's. "You're making a mistake, Varyn. Aldric will crush you. Just like he crushed everyone who stood in his way before."
Caelan's eyes hardened. "I'm not like everyone else."
Valkar's smirk returned, but it was colder this time, more sinister. "No. You're something far worse."
With that, Valkar turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Caelan alone in the alley. The runes on his skin dimmed, the magic settling back into a dormant state. He took a slow breath, his heart still pounding from the brief confrontation.
He had known coming back would be dangerous, but Valkar's appearance confirmed that Aldric was already watching. Caelan wasn't just a rogue mage anymore—he was a threat, and Aldric wouldn't let him roam free for long.
Caelan adjusted his cloak, making sure the book Thornwyn had given him was secure in his satchel. He couldn't afford to stay in one place for too long, not with Aldric's enforcers prowling the city. But he wasn't going to run. Not this time.
He had come back for a reason, and he wouldn't leave until the academy's walls came crumbling down around Aldric Elros.
As Caelan continued through the city, he found his way to a dimly lit tavern nestled in one of the quieter corners of the underground. The sign above the door was faded, barely legible, but he recognized it well enough. The Broken Sigil. It was a place where the outcasts of the magical world gathered—those who operated outside the academy's influence, or who simply preferred the shadows to the light.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the murmur of hushed conversations. A few heads turned as he entered, but most of the patrons paid him no mind. This was a place where no one asked questions, and everyone kept their secrets.
Caelan moved to the bar, nodding to the bartender, a burly man with a scar running down the side of his face. The man grunted in acknowledgment but said nothing as Caelan took a seat.
As he waited, he felt a presence beside him. He didn't need to look to know who it was. The faint shimmer of magical tattoos was enough of a giveaway.
"Still making enemies, I see," Liora Greyflame said, her voice low and amused.
Caelan glanced at her, his expression neutral. "Valkar's not an enemy. He's just a nuisance."
Liora raised an eyebrow. "A nuisance with a very sharp sword."
Caelan shrugged. "He won't be a problem for long."
Liora studied him for a moment, then leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You need to be careful, Caelan. Aldric isn't playing around anymore. His reach is farther than you think."
"I know what I'm doing," Caelan replied, his voice steady.
"Do you?" Liora asked, her gaze piercing. "Because it looks to me like you're walking straight into a trap."
Caelan met her gaze, his eyes cold. "Maybe I am. But Aldric isn't the only one who knows how to set traps."
Liora smirked, leaning back in her chair. "You always were too clever for your own good."
Caelan didn't respond. He was already thinking ahead, planning his next move. The encounter with Valkar had been a warning, but it had also confirmed what he needed to do. The academy's power was built on fear—fear of the unknown, fear of Aether, fear of those who refused to be controlled. But Caelan wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
He would find the answers he sought, and when he did, Aldric Elros would fall.