The second day of training did not begin with combat.
Ellisar led them into a smaller chamber, its walls etched with mirrors of obsidian. At the center lay a circular stone table, upon which rested a worn tome—its binding cracked, its pages yellowed. The air smelled faintly of ash.
"You have touched your Pathways," Ellisar began, his tone unusually grave. "But to touch is not to understand. And to wield without understanding… is to invite ruin."
He opened the tome. The ink glowed faintly, as though alive.
"Each of your Paths," he said, eyes lingering on each of them, "offers not only strength, but temptation. The Ancient One fractured for this very reason. Power unchecked becomes hunger."
Nelly's chest tightened. As Ellisar's gaze rested on him, the whisper stirred again. A voice that wasn't his own. Take more. You deserve it. He clenched his fists under the table, forcing it silent.
"For the Path of Knowledge," Ellisar said, turning to Divine, "curiosity can become obsession. The world will bend before your wisdom, but so too will your mind fracture under truths not meant to be seen."
Divine did not flinch. His calm expression remained, though a shadow flickered in his eyes.
"To stand in Light," Ellisar continued, looking at Nathan, "is to burn. Your radiance can heal, can guide, but uncontrolled it will consume allies as surely as enemies. Light is merciless."
Nathan lowered his gaze, guilt creeping at the memory of his uncontrolled burst in the training hall.
"And for Courage—" Ellisar's tone softened as he turned to him, "—your strength lies not in fists alone, but in resolve. Yet resolve too rigid will shatter. If you refuse to bend, you will break. The Cult preys on those who believe themselves unbreakable."
Courage's grin faltered for the first time. He shifted, knuckles flexing, but said nothing.
Ellisar closed the tome.
"Remember this: Pathways are not mastered in days. They demand sacrifice. And the deeper you ascend, the greater the risk of losing who you are."
⸻
That night, the four walked together under the starlit sky. None spoke much. The weight of Ellisar's words clung to them like mist.
Nathan finally broke the silence. "Do you ever… wonder if we'll be strong enough?"
Nelly looked at him, shadows shifting faintly along his wrist. "I don't wonder. I fear it. Every day."
Courage laughed softly, though the edge in it betrayed unease. "Fear's part of it. But we'll take it head on, like always."
Divine remained silent, eyes fixed on the stars. He whispered, almost too softly for them to hear: "The stars already know where this path leads. The question is… will we?"
⸻
Far away, in the dim catacombs of the Cult, the air smelled of incense and decay.
The hooded acolytes knelt before their master—a figure veiled in crimson, his face hidden by bone-carved mask. Torches hissed as if afraid of him.
"They grow," the masked voice rasped. "Azure Dawn dares to cultivate seeds we thought extinguished."
Acolytes murmured, hissing like serpents in the dark.
The masked leader raised a skeletal hand, silencing them.
"Then we must test them. Send forth the Harbingers. Not to kill—yet. Let them taste despair. Let their fears ripen."
The chamber shook faintly as the acolytes repeated a single phrase, their voices rising into frenzy.
"For the Return of the One. For the Ancient's Will."
In the shadows, unseen, something stirred—an omen of battles yet to come.