The sky over the Bastion dimmed by the time the Initiates entered the Hall of Forms.
The room was round and tiered like a shallow dome, with chalkboard walls and strips of golden-white metal tracing the floor in careful spirals. A basin of still water lay at the center, flanked by stone benches and three softly pulsing lanterns. Tavian stood near Nyx as others filed in. Jun had already claimed a seat at the front.
This time, their instructor was not armored.
Eles Verin wore scholar's robes laced with pale green thread and storm-patterned cuffs. Her eyes, the sharp grey of wind about to shift, scanned the room as she entered. Two beasts followed in silence. One was a regal, silver-antlered stag with dark eyes and veins of blue light threading through its coat. The other, a small winged fox, hovered without flapping its limbs, Pulse humming gently in its wake.
The air changed when the stag stepped inside.
Tavian flinched.
Raijara stirred inside him.
"She's here," Tavian whispered.
Nyx raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"No. Raijara. She woke up."
The Highborn did not speak aloud. But her presence flooded him with sudden clarity, like someone turning the page to a book mid-sentence. There was approval. Wariness. And faint amusement.
"Observe, but do not mimic," she murmured. "This is ink-bound power. Temporary. A form built on fear of forgetting."
Eles clapped her hands once.
"This is Glyphwork," she said. "The written arm of the Pulse."
No introduction. No warmth.
She pointed toward the chalkboard where three symbols had already been inscribed. One was a clean spiral broken by a wedge. One, a sharp, jagged curve like a flame caught sideways. The last looked simple, dot within a square, but the Pulse around it warped slightly, like breath bending glass.
"These are not decorations. They are commands," Eles said. "Commands shaped in the tongue that came before speech. Glyphs are not letters. They are the bones of Ith, the language of beasts and gods."
She walked to the flame-shaped glyph.
"When you write one, you give the world a rule to follow. A glyph only works if it matches your Pulse. If your emotion and alignment don't match the symbol's meaning, it fails. If you lie while writing it, it resists."
She tapped the chalkboard.
"If you force it? It breaks."
Jun smirked from his bench. "And if it breaks, it hurts."
"You'll feel it in your bones," Eles replied. "If you're lucky."
She turned toward the basin.
"You'll each attempt a basic glyph today. Just one. No projection. No casting. Simply trace it. Feel your Pulse align."
Nyx leaned toward Tavian. "This is the part where half the room thinks they're geniuses. The other half ends up on the floor."
Eles beckoned a student forward.
One by one, they stepped up and tried to trace the glyph of their Pulse, most choosing symbols aligned with either Verdant or Ember. The basin's water would ripple if they succeeded. If not, the water remained still or boiled unexpectedly.
Jun approached when called. His hands were practiced, steady. His glyph flowed like a ribbon through fog. The basin shivered, and a small echo drifted up like mist.
"Echo-Hollow. Good control," Eles said without compliment. "Sit."
Tavian's name came last.
He rose slowly. Jun made no effort to hide his grin.
"Let's see if the storm can draw."
Tavian walked to the basin. His bondmark itched.
"I don't know my glyphs," he said.
"You know your Pulse," Eles replied. "Draw what it feels like."
Raijara's voice touched his mind. "Storm is not a line. It is a turning. Veil is not a form. It is a fold."
He placed his fingers on the surface. The chalk shimmered beside him.
He drew.
A spiral. Then a line through it. Then something else. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't finished.
But it was honest.
The basin responded.
Not with a ripple, but with a sudden, sharp stillness. Then a snap, like ice fracturing underwater.
Tavian jerked his hand back. Pain laced up his arm.
"Storm-Veil is unstable," Eles said evenly. "Your glyph was half-shaped. Still, it held longer than I expected."
Jun snorted. "Barely."
Eles turned to him. "And yet, it did."
She nodded at Tavian.
"Sit. Next time, it may answer more kindly."
As Tavian walked back to his seat, he heard whispers begin. Some awed. Some skeptical.
Nyx whispered, "You didn't break it. That matters."
"Why didn't it react the same way?" he asked. "The water froze."
"Because you're touching two Pules that don't get along," she said. "Storm wants to change. Veil wants to stay hidden. You're the storm. And she's the secret."
Eles spoke again.
"You'll learn your full glyph set over the year. Each of you will also build a personal glyph language, unique combinations that stabilize your own Pulse. But remember, those of you who rely too heavily on written power will always be slower than those who can speak Ith directly."
That silence again.
Someone asked, "Can anyone speak it?"
"Only Speakers are known for their fluency," Eles said. "But many learn to speak a few simple phrases or words. Speaking the language is a lot more different."
Her stag looked toward Tavian.
And for the first time, it spoke.
"There are other exceptions."