The second dawn in the Rift came with no sun—only a pale shimmer behind the torn sky. The group had settled in the shallow basin near the lakeshore, a natural shelter surrounded by jagged stone and strange, silent trees. For the first time since their descent, there was a moment of pause.
Training began.
"Again."
Veyr collapsed on one knee, drenched in sweat, his arms trembling. The stone beneath him cracked faintly with the force of the impact—but Syra's face remained unmoved.
"Bastion Core training isn't about brute strength. You can't force it open, Veyr. You have to endure it—like an anchor holding back the tide."
He grit his teeth. "I'm trying."
"I know. That's the problem."
Her tone wasn't cruel, just clipped. Focused. She stood with arms crossed, watching his posture, his breathing, his hesitation. The Bastion Core wasn't just about durability—it was about will under weight.
And Veyr had plenty of will. But also too much fire. Too much movement.
"You have to become the wall, not the sword. Again."
Across the basin, Colwyn crouched near Ellie, his voice low and calm as always.
"Astral Core work isn't flashy," he explained, "and most people mess it up by rushing. It's not about flinging your mind outward. It's about holding it steady, stretching your perception until the Rift speaks back."
Ellie frowned. "It speaks?"
"In a way. It remembers you—if you leave an imprint deep enough."
She closed her eyes again, sitting cross-legged. The lake's edge pulsed softly nearby, its surface still as glass.
"Feel for threads. Tensions. Like something is waiting to snap into place."
She focused, her breathing slow. The Astral Core flickered inside her—not strong yet, but present. A single tendril of perception uncoiled, brushing something far beyond—
A shiver ran down her spine.
Not danger. Not power.
Memory.
Rhen sat on the outer edge of the training circle, watching.
He hated doing nothing. Hated watching them progress, while he—
He clenched his fists.
His Bastion Core was strong. One of the best. He could feel it hum like a drum beneath his skin. But it was only that. No Astral reach. No Dominion spark. Just the solid, unyielding core and a single glyph that had betrayed him the moment he needed it most.
He'd carved it properly. Drawn it in blood, once. Focused everything he had into it.
Nothing.
Like slamming his fist against a locked door that refused to open.
He wasn't weak. He knew that.
But what was strength if it led nowhere?
His eyes drifted back to the others. Veyr collapsing and rising again. Ellie diving deeper into unseen space.
Rhen remained.
Unmoving.
Unchanged.
Not for long.
Later, by the Fire
"I don't get it," Ellie said, staring into the flames. "Why is your strongest core Dominion? No one ever—"
"I don't know," Veyr cut her off. "I didn't even know I had more than one."
Colwyn frowned. "A Dominion Core is… rare. Beyond rare. I've only ever heard stories."
"What makes it so special?" Rhen asked, chewing on a strip of dried meat.
"A Bastion Core reinforces you. Makes you harder. Stronger. An Astral Core expands you—lets you sense, feel, connect. But a Dominion Core…" Colwyn's gaze turned distant. "It imposes."
Veyr raised an eyebrow.
"You don't fight with muscle. Or thought. You fight with your will. And the strongest will… can change things."
Ellie and Veyr exchanged a look.
"Maybe that's why…" she began, hesitating. "With the Blood Monarch. Your glyph barely scratched it. Maybe—"
"Because it has a Dominion Core too," Veyr finished grimly. "Shit."
Syra
She had heard everything.
And said nothing.
The boy had something none of them could understand. But what he did with it… that was his alone to decide.
She stepped out of the shadows, her voice sharp as steel.
"Then start fighting like someone who actually wants something."