Date: Early September X786 (Pre-Dawn)
Location: Vault Region Outskirts & Crocus Citadel
The eastern sky trembled with its first pale breath, soft orange bleeding into the cold ridges below. Task Force Nine assembled atop the jagged ridge in a hush that felt almost sacred.
Below them, vault-adjacent valleys sprawled: ancient watchtowers, half-buried ruins clawing at the sky, and fields scored by old magic's scars. Once Council-kept secrets — now opened under Teresa's command.
The air smelled of raw stone and distant frost. A land long asleep, listening.
Teresa stepped forward, cloak drifting like a quiet vow. Her sword remained sheathed, but the Yoki Magic pulsed beneath her skin — a heartbeat echoing beyond her chest. She looked across her gathered force: Rune Knights, Blue Pegasus healers, Sabertooth brutes, Crime Sorcière menders, Phantom Lotus shadows.
"Today," she began, voice low but steady as a tide, "we reclaim what was turned into a weapon. We walk into silence — and make it safe."
Krag of Sabertooth cracked his knuckles, breath blooming white. Alto of Blue Pegasus answered with a sharp, almost reverent nod. Zalena knelt, pressing her fingers into the frozen dirt, eyes closed, as if asking permission from the earth. Korval stood back, his aura dark and heavy, but his gaze unwavering — unspoken trust binding them all.
Around them, other mages shuffled, uncertainty threading through their resolve. The Council's long shadow still clung to their shoulders like a wet cloth.
Descent
Teresa led them down the ancient stone path, each step measured, as though she felt every hairline fracture beneath.
"Walking the Razor Edge," she murmured under her breath, the words more prayer than technique.
Behind her, Rune Knights called on Yoki Reinforced Defense, muffling each rumble. Mage-lights bobbed behind, fragile lanterns against the dark.
A low tremor answered from the depths.
The Suppression Node
Teresa paused, crouched. Her fingers brushed cold runes buried beneath the dust — a suppression matrix, alive and humming.
"This node... it was being recharged," she whispered, voice almost tender.
She drew her blade.
"Void Sever."
A single, careful slice. The node convulsed once, then unraveled into a fine gray hush.
Council's Trap
Alto stepped closer, his breath short. "A Council failsafe," he realized aloud. "They meant to retake the ground."
Krag snarled, hand on his hilt. "Trap us here. Bury us."
Teresa's eyes flickered like a distant star. "The Trial was never about judgment. It was groundwork."
Korval's voice came low, as if spoken to the shadows themselves. "And now?"
She rose. "Now we claim the first strike."
The First Crossfire
A ripple—distorted shapes lunging from a side corridor, glyphs flickering across cloaks.
Teresa's fingers twitched. "Panel left," she ordered.
Krag smashed it open, revealing a nexus block crackling with charge.
Alto threw a radiant ward, and Zalena began weaving a cleansing circle. Korval slipped between enemies, slashing distorted illusions.
Teresa inhaled once. Folded her fingers. One. Two. Three.
A pulse.
The nexus folded inward, collapsing into silent ash.
Tunnel Collapse
A Rune Knight screamed — glyph burn flaring up his arm. Another blast licked the tunnel's ribs, ready to tear it down.
"Phantom Step."
She vanished forward, her blade arcing like moonlight. Silken Nerve Control wrapped her spin — a single flick severed the rune's heart.
The collapse shivered — then stilled.
Her torch swung up, revealing dozens more glyph clusters, now inert.
"They didn't want us dead," she murmured. "They wanted us forgotten."
Councilor's Call
She pressed a rune-lacuna. Ethne's voice crackled through, brittle but resolute.
"Hold. Don't yield."
Then Warrod's voice, steady iron. "We're broadcasting your feed. All of Crocus watches."
She exhaled, closing her eyes. "Then let them witness."
Clearing the Core
They reached the vault's heart — an enormous chamber lined with cracked pillars, each pulse like a dying breath.
"Manual realignment," Teresa called.
Krag set his shoulders against a fractured column. Alto's beams stitched across stone veins. Zalena crawled along broken glyph lines, fingers weaving careful magic. Korval hunted stray curses like shadows hunting moonlight.
Teresa drifted among them, blade dancing, her presence more felt than seen. She unwound corrupted runes with the care of a surgeon, sealing leaks as if stitching skin.
Light followed in their wake, corridors warming, shivering into fragile life.
The Final Trap
The floor beneath them shivered — glyphs igniting like veins of salt and blood.
"Back!"
Korval and Zalena lunged, curses sparking against their hands, deflected into swirling nothing.
Teresa placed her foot on the center glyph, her eyes half-closed, her breath silent.
"Walking the Razor Edge."
A whisper. A single cut.
The glyph moaned — then sealed itself, quiet as an ending breath.
Broadcast to All
Above, screens across Crocus flared alive. Citizens stared, faces half in shadow. A single truth unfolded: She protects. They betray.
Whispers turned to cries. Cries turned to roars. Guild gates flooded with voices — hope and rage fused.
Dawn Return
Under the rising sun, Teresa led Task Force Nine up the ridge toward the Citadel. The sky burned pink and gold — a horizon remade.
Bran waited at the gate, pale, small.
At the threshold, Teresa turned, her voice soft yet sharper than any blade.
"We rebuild. Not because they demand it — but because we choose."
She raised her sword — Living Weave now shimmering with each line they had saved.
Beside her, Krag, Alto, Zalena, and Korval stepped forward — unified.
Inside, the Council erupted. But this time, it wasn't condemnation.
It was a single, shivering possibility.