Chapter Three: What Yolti Carries (Part Two)
Date: May 22, Year 204 PCR (Maelis 22)
Location: Trial Arena – Harmonic Lyceum
Time: Early Afternoon
Kallien stumbled backward.
The pulse in his arms twitched—then dulled. His glyph wrap, once bright along his biceps and forearms, flickered like a candle nearing its last breath. Not broken. Not overloaded.
Redirected.
Yolti's palm remained raised, steady against the echo of the strike. The white lattice on her skin had dimmed slightly—but it still shimmered at the fingertips, like the remnants of a spell not cast, but kept.
"You blocked my glyph," Kallien hissed. "That's not possible."
Yolti stepped forward.
"I didn't block it."
Another step.
"I listened to it. And I reminded it what it was."
Kallien launched another blow—faster, sharper, powered by sheer disbelief.
Yolti didn't flinch.
Her body turned half a breath to the left, shoulder rolling with the impact. The force collided with the edge of his glyphwork, and the shock didn't echo back—it dissolved.
The ring beneath them responded now. The arena floor rippled with white glyphlight at each step Yolti took. His movement wasn't aggressive. It was corrective. Like a stone dropped into rippling water—each adjustment swallowed violence and returned quiet.
"You're trying to tear things down," Yolti said, still soft.
"But I was marked to hold things together."
Kallien backed up—eyes sharper now, jaw clenching. "Then hold this."
He twisted his wrist—glyphspark flaring back into motion.
"VEILMARK ART — TIDE RECOIL: Ripplecast Spire!"
A wave of compressed air curved along the floor, spiraling upward into a pillar that whipped toward Yolti's midsection.
This time, Yolti stepped into it.
And raised both arms.
"VEILMARK ART — AETHERFORM: Stilling Vein."
The spire bent mid-surge.
It wrapped itself around his arms, not striking—but pulsing like a heartbeat trapped in open air. The energy tried to find release—
But the glyph refused.
The pulse in Yolti's hands deepened. The white lattice curled inward—not just resisting, but rewriting the motion of Kallien's Veilmark art. The arena floor flickered white-gold under her heels.
He exhaled.
"You fight for impact."
"I fight for consequence."
Yolti shifted his weight and twisted one hand downward.
The entire rippleline of Kallien's glyph collapsed into a singular thread—then blinked out.
No detonation. No flash.
Just gone.
Kallien shouted and charged, fists swinging wild now—more fury than form. His movements lost the elegance of earlier strikes. He wanted to crack something. Anything. This wasn't training anymore. It was defiance.
Yolti didn't answer it with power.
He ducked one hook, turned under a follow-through, and pressed two fingers to the back of Kallien's glyphwrapping.
A single note rang out—subtle and somber, like a flute in an empty hall.
Kallien froze mid-motion.
His glyphs stopped glowing.
His arms stopped shaking.
His mouth opened, but he didn't speak.
Because the glyph at his back had gone completely silent.
Yolti looked at him, calm but firm.
"Stop swinging."
"Start listening."
Kallien breathed, hard, body still tense—but something changed behind his eyes.
"What did you do?"
"Nothing," Yolti said. "I didn't break your Veilmark."
"I reminded it what it's meant to protect."
The glyph beneath their feet pulsed once more, calling the round forward.
The fight was far from over.
But something in Kallien had already shifted.