The moment they stepped out of the portal and back into the serene courtyard of Kamar-Taj, the calm was shattered. Standing in the center of the training grounds with the Ancient One was the Crystal Exarch, and the air around him was thick with a suffocating, anxious energy.
"Exarch?" Leo and Ashem said in unison, surprise overriding their post-battle adrenaline.
"You're back. Thank the stars, you're back." The Exarch rushed forward to meet them, his usual composed demeanor gone, replaced by a raw, frayed urgency.
"What happened?" Leo asked immediately, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "According to the time difference, you've only been back on the First for about sixteen hours. What could have happened so quickly?" Had a Lightwarden attacked? Had the Ascians made their move?
The Exarch let out a long, weary sigh. "Eulmore," he said, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. "Somehow, they learned that I have found a means to fight the Lightwardens. They have sent an envoy. They are putting pressure on the Crystarium."
"Eulmore?" Leo thought back, recalling the merchant's words. "That's the other safe city, right?" He and Ashem exchanged a look, both remembering the same details.
"When we first arrived," Ashem added, her voice sharp, "Lyna, the guard commander, told us that anyone who fights Sin Eaters is definitely not from Eulmore."
Leo connected the dots, a grim suspicion forming in his mind. "Exarch… are you saying Eulmore is on the side of the Sin Eaters?"
The Exarch gave a grave, solemn nod. "Once, they were our greatest hope. After the Flood of Light, Eulmore was a bastion, possessing the most wealth, the strongest army, the finest minds. With the aid of the Oracle of Light, they fought back against the Lightwardens time and again." His voice turned bitter. "But that was before their current leader, Vauthry, came to power. He has turned his back on the fight. Now, Eulmore is a city of endless, hedonistic pleasure, a paradise built on apathy while the world dies around them."
Hearing this, the Ancient One's brow furrowed in disapproval, and Mordo, standing nearby, clenched his fists, a dark look on his face.
Ashem, however, latched onto one detail. "Oracle of Light? Who is that?"
"A hundred years ago, after the Flood, a young girl appeared. Golden hair, sky-blue eyes. She called herself Minfilia, the Oracle of Light," the Exarch explained. "Ever since, whenever one Oracle passes, another girl with the same name and features appears to take her place."
The name hit Ashem like a physical blow. She froze. Minfilia Warde was the founder of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, the very organization she belonged to. She had been their leader, their friend. And she had sacrificed herself years ago.
"Yes," the Exarch said, sensing her shock. "Every generation of the Oracle is named Minfilia. Like you, she possesses the Blessing of Light, a crucial defense against the Flood." He paused, his expression pained. "Unfortunately, the current Minfilia has been taken prisoner by Vauthry. It is why the situation on the First has deteriorated so rapidly in recent years." He sighed. "Vauthry himself is a prodigy, born with the innate ability to control Sin Eaters. A power that could have saved us, that could have bought us precious time. Instead… he uses it to build his pleasure palace."
"You need not feel sorry for him, sir," Mordo said, his voice tight with contempt. "Such a degenerate is not worthy of pity."
"It's not that simple," the Exarch countered, shaking his head. "The people have been fighting for a hundred years. Most have lost all hope. Vauthry offers them an escape, a final party at the end of the world. It is why he has so many followers." He looked at Leo and Ashem, a desperate plea in his eyes. "And it is why I came for you so urgently. Eulmore can be dealt with, but not without hope. If we can bring back the darkness, bring back the night, even for a single hour… it will show the people that this fight is not lost. It will give them a reason to believe again."
A predatory grin spread across Ashem's face. "Then what are we waiting for? Fray was completely unimpressed with those terrorists. A Lightwarden should prove a bit more of a challenge, don't you think?"
Leo rolled his eyes. "Is that really what you're focused on right now?" But even as he said it, he was raising his hand, the familiar orange sparks already coalescing around his fingers. The portal to the First tore open with an effortless ease that still thrilled him. "Thanks for the lessons, Master," he said with a grin. "Lightwarden… I have to admit, I'm a little impatient to meet one myself."
"Wait—"
Mordo stepped forward, his expression a mask of intense, internal conflict. He had made a decision. "I wish to go with you," he said, the words sounding strange even to his own ears. "To the First."
The Ancient One looked at him, a flicker of genuine surprise followed by a wave of profound, quiet pride. "To travel to other worlds," she said with a knowing smile, "is to broaden one's own."
The Exarch nodded. "You are welcome, sir." He turned to the group. "I will meet you all in the Crystarium market. There is a friend I would like you to meet." With that, his projection grew faint and dissolved into the air.
Leo, Ashem, and a newly resolute Mordo stepped through the portal.
They emerged in their apartment at the Pendants. It was exactly as they had left it—quiet, dim, and peaceful.
Except it wasn't.
Leo and Ashem both froze, their bodies going rigid, their senses screaming at a presence in the room that shouldn't be there. A knot of pure, dark aether was coalescing in the center of the living room.
"You… have returned," a familiar, weary voice echoed in their minds. A voice they had only ever heard as a disembodied narrator.
Mordo, seeing their sudden, tense reaction, drew a weapon of pure energy into his hand. "What is it?" he hissed, his eyes scanning the empty room.
Leo frowned. "You can't see it? Or hear it?"
"I sense nothing unusual," Mordo replied, his own senses on high alert.
"Don't tell me you can't see—" Leo started, but before he could finish, the dark aether exploded outward, solidifying into the form of a man. He carried a massive, blood-stained great axe over his shoulder, and his entire body began to emanate a white light so blindingly intense it was like staring into an overexposed photograph.
As the light finally dimmed enough for them to see his features, Ashem gasped, her ruby eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock.
She knew who he was.