She held the smooth white stone in her palm while Colwyn spoke. Even when she didn't squeeze it, it hummed faintly — as if reacting to the air itself. She didn't want to admit that the sound comforted her.
Colwyn stood before them under the blindingly false-blue sky, hands clasped behind his back, skin cracked with pulsing light. "Before you begin your desperation for strength," he said in a tone too calm to be gentle, "you should understand how this place decides what you become."
He lifted a thick finger."Bastion Cores — they harden the body. Armor your bones, quicken your strikes, sharpen your instincts."
Second finger."Astral Cores — rarer. They extend awareness. Let your mind reach further than your limbs or eyes ever could."
Third finger."Dominion Cores — the rarest. Those who develop them can impose their will on the world. They don't fight with strength or perception — they bend reality itself."
Veyr's jaw flexed tightly. Something in his chest responded to that word — Dominion.
"We fought something strong," Ellie said gently. "It called itself a Monarch. It changed the ground around it. Like it owned everything it touched."
Colwyn's expression darkened. "Some creatures born of the Rift develop their own cores. You survived that? Then you're lucky. We, too, have faced its raids from time to time, when it fed on our people to gain strength."
Rhen rubbed his arm. "That explains why my glyph barely worked… I was trying to block force, not will."
Colwyn did not answer. His eyes were on Ellie and Veyr. "You both already carry multiple cores, though none are fully formed yet. That is rare."
Veyr frowned. "Multiple?"
"You," Colwyn said to Veyr, "have Bastion hardened already, with faint traces of Astral running along it." He paused. "And something else beneath that — but I cannot name it. Too deep."
Syra's stormy eyes flicked to Veyr — curious, almost hungry.
Then Colwyn turned to Ellie. "Yours, girl, pulse between Bastion and Astral. No Dominion spark — which is fortunate. Those tear most people apart."
Ellie swore she felt her stone twitch in her hand.
"As such," Colwyn continued, "I will train you, Ellie — to shape your Astral perception first, or it will swallow your senses alive."
Syra stepped forward. "And I… will handle him." She looked Veyr up and down like a puzzle she intended to break. "Your Bastion is too rigid. We need to temper it to accept change — before you snap under pressure."
"I don't need—" Veyr began, then stopped himself. That split-second of denial had almost killed them during the fall. Slowly, he unclipped his single remaining blade and let it fall to the dirt.
Syra smiled faintly. "Good. First lesson: let go of what will not serve you here."
They turned toward the courtyard — weapons racks filled with strange crystal-forged blades and staffs humming with unseen power. Mutated villagers sparred in the distance, their cores glowing faintly at neck, spine, hands.
Colwyn nodded for Ellie to follow him. "You will start by listening past your ears. An Astral Core only grows when one abandons their body's limits."
Ellie's pulse quickened. She tucked her stone into her pocket and followed.
Veyr looked at Syra, a question in his eyes. "And what about… leaving? Getting out of here?"
Syra's expression shifted into something unreadable. "If you truly want to leave… you'll need strength worthy not of a survivor," she said quietly, so only he could hear, "but of a slayer."
Rhen trailed behind the two groups, muttering about his leg and his pride. But there was a fire under his skin too — the realization he might be the least deadly person in the group.
Resolved, they stepped forward — into the training ground where the Rift watched and waited, eager to reshape them or crush them one breath at a time.