The embers of rebellion still glowed in the aftermath of Zera's advance, flickering in the hearts of those pressing deeper into western Laginaple. The land itself, charred and ruptured by Falzath control, now trembled with the tremors of defiance. Smoke lingered over the twisted ruins of strongholds once thought unbreakable, and the scorched earth groaned beneath the weight of newly forged dreams. Not far from the fractured fortress Zera and Lyssa had torn through, another gate pulsed with dark energy: a barrier reinforced by runes corrupted by the Elder Council. Its obsidian shimmer stained the sky, shielding the final route to the western spires like a cursed wound in reality.
Tessara stood before it, her silver hair catching moonlight like threads of starlight. Her pale blue robes, lined with the silver runes of the Crescent Order, rippled in the wind like the banners of a forgotten age. At her side, Tove nocked an arrow, her gaze sharp and steady, her expression unreadable beneath the war paint streaked across her cheeks. The ruins around them whispered of old pain, of songs unsung, of fires quenched too soon. But Tessara's eyes held no fear—only purpose. Her fingers curled around the hilt of her wandblade, moonlight shimmering along its edge, a reflection of her Crest's subtle glow beneath her robes.
"Third gate," Tove murmured, her voice hushed but taut. "This one's different. Smells... older. Cursed."
Tessara nodded. "It's warded by an echo. A Falzath echo spell. It feeds on doubt. On hesitation."
"Then we silence it."
With that, Tove let loose her first arrow. It shimmered mid-flight, splitting into three phantom trails that struck the barrier's edge. The impact flared, shaking the air, but the ward held. The sky rumbled as if in protest, a deep groan from a wounded world. Tessara raised her hand. The moon above responded, casting a pale beam down upon her palm, from which she drew strength. Her Crest—once dormant—began to flare, igniting not only her magic but her memory.
Arcane threads spiraled around her wrist, coiling like serpents of light. She whispered a prayer to the moon, not out of superstition, but memory. Volume 4's lessons—the rituals her mother taught her as a child, in the cold libraries of Soma's outer ring—guided her now. Beneath that glowing moon, her lineage surged to the surface.
"By the moon's watch, by the fox's flame, by the dream he dares to bear."
She thrust her wandblade forward. The moonlight sharpened, condensing into a blade of force that cut through the ward's first layer. Tove fired again, arrows infused with starlight from Tessara's spellcraft. The barrier cracked. Shards of corrupted magic peeled away like broken glass, revealing the cursed runes beneath. A scream echoed from the gate, a soundless shriek embedded in spellwork meant to twist the soul.
"I need one more opening," Tessara said through clenched teeth.
Tove nodded. "Then take it. I'll cover you."
Tessara lifted both hands. Lunar sigils flared behind her in a circle, casting down pure light. The night was momentarily day. She closed her eyes, letting her body become a conduit. Her voice rose—not just in chant, but in belief. Her words were not spell components. They were declarations.
"Shin, I have not forgotten. The Soma dream still lives. I will protect it. I will protect you."
Her Crest blazed over her chest, the warmth spreading through her limbs. She could feel his presence again—not his body, but the fire of his resolve. The way his voice hardened before battle. The way his eyes softened when speaking of hope. The strength in his silence. The burden he carried alone. Her voice cracked, and still she stood firm.
A final surge of moonlight fired from her sigils, piercing the gate's heart. The corrupted core shattered with a wail, and the barrier imploded inward with a scream of failing magic. The cursed gate fell, its remnants curling away like blackened parchment.
Tessara fell to one knee, panting, her body spent. Her limbs shook with exhaustion. Her breathing came in ragged gasps, but her eyes still burned with lunar fire.
Tove reached down, pulling her to her feet. "You did it."
Tessara gave a faint smile. "We did."
The gates of Laginaple's west had opened.
Rebels emerged from hiding among the woods and crags, pouring into the exposed path. Men and women, once broken, now surged like a tide, armed with salvaged weapons and fearless cries. Tessara raised her wandblade high. The moon shone behind her, casting her in silver fire.
"To the spires! Free this land from shadow! For the Master and the Fox!"
Their cheers echoed across the canyon. Cries of defiance, of faith, of long-buried dreams stirred awake. In their faces, she saw Shin's vision reborn. In their eyes, she saw a world he would never abandon.
In that moment, her necklace pulsed. The same pulse that beat in Shin's orb. Resonant. Alive.
And then—her vision blurred.
A flash. A whisper. Cold wind without source. Tessara stumbled, and the world tilted. Her body tensed, her breath hitched. She was no longer in the canyon.
She stood in a black void, staring into a circle of thrones.
They loomed like statues hewn from obsidian, faceless and ancient. Seven seats. Seven voices. They radiated cold intellect, far beyond human emotion. Each figure cloaked in shadow deeper than night, each presence pressing down like gravity.
"The Soma dream lives, even now."
"The Dragon bears her flame."
"The Moonflower sees."
"The Fox remains incomplete."
At the center, Voryn stood. No longer cloaked. His armor gleamed with symbols Tessara didn't recognize—neither Crests nor spells, but something... older. Forbidden. Origin markings. Echoes of a time predating language.
He turned to her. His eyes were hollow stars.
"You should not have seen this."
She felt herself pulled backward, her body screaming with pain. Threads of magic wrapped around her spine, dragging her mind from the council's reach.
Then, silence.
Tessara awoke in Tove's arms, her pulse racing.
"What happened?" Tove asked, fear briefly cracking her composure.
Tessara grasped her friend's wrist. "I saw them. The Elder Council. They are not just men. They are remnants of something before Crests. Before even the first fox mask. They wield a story older than ours."
Tove's eyes narrowed. "Then we need to strike before they awaken further."
Tessara stood, bracing herself against the canyon wall. Her Crest still glowed, though faint now. Her breath steadied. Her vow had only grown stronger.
"No matter what they were... they won't stop me. Shin still believes. So will I."
She turned to the rebels as they surged forward. And in the light of the moon, with Tove at her side, Tessara led them forward. Toward fire. Toward fate.
Toward freedom.