The morning after the barrier's collapse carried a silence that didn't belong to peace. It was the kind that came after screams—heavy, brittle, waiting to shatter at the slightest breath.
The Academy's outer rings were sealed off, instructors patrolling the mana fractures like guards at a tomb. Rumors spread faster than containment sigils could be redrawn: whispers of forbidden spirits, shadow beasts, and a tamer whose crest had resonated during the breach.
Lyn kept his hood low as he entered the west training grounds. The fields were scarred—burn marks across the soil where energy had ruptured. His own body still ached from the backlash; mana veins along his arm pulsed faintly beneath his skin, glowing in sync with Umbra's slumbering mark.
They know something, he thought. The Council will move soon.
Umbra's voice did not answer. Since the incident, the spirit had gone silent, coiled deep within the bond like a shadow holding its breath.
"Lyn!"
Arden's voice broke the quiet. He jogged across the field, carrying a stack of sealed notes. His expression was grim, the usual spark of sarcasm absent. "Orders from the Council. They're calling every ranked tamer for assessment. Blood test, mana verification, crest inspection—the works."
Lyn frowned. "Blood test? Since when does the Council need that to identify tamers?"
"Since last night, apparently." Arden dropped his voice. "They say someone's crest pattern shifted during the barrier rupture. That's impossible… unless a bond was rewritten."
The words struck like a blade. Lyn's hand instinctively went to his arm. A rewritten bond—an impossible act, one that defied the foundation of Tamer law. A bond could only be broken or formed, never altered. Unless…
"Umbra," Lyn whispered under his breath.
Arden caught the name but said nothing. He simply nodded toward the dueling arena. "They're using the tests as cover. Rumor is, the Council suspects infiltration. Copy tamers."
"Copy tamers?"
"Tamers whose mana signatures have been mimicked—perfectly. Someone out there can imitate a tamer's bond and spirit resonance. They could walk among us and no one would know."
Lyn's pulse quickened. A cold dread coiled through him. If someone had learned to copy bonds, then Umbra's whisper wasn't the only thing that had breached the veil last night. Something else had come through—something with intent.
The horns of the dueling arena sounded, summoning participants for "verification trials." The gathered students filed into formation, each stepping forward as their crests were scanned by the Council's adjudicators.
Lyn followed Arden into the ring. Mana orbs floated overhead, projecting faint illusions of each student's crest pattern. Blue, gold, silver—colors flared one by one.
Then Lyn stepped forward.
The adjudicator, a stern woman in dark robes, held a crystalline sigil between her palms. "Lyn of Crest Division 7. Step into the circle."
He obeyed, the mana lines glowing beneath his boots. The sigil hovered, drawing threads of light from his crest.
At first, the reading was normal. Then the orb flickered—blue to black, black to silver, then red.
Gasps rippled through the arena.
"Error," the adjudicator muttered. "Repeat."
She tried again. The same flicker, the same distortion. Only this time, a faint echo appeared beside Lyn's crest—an identical pattern hovering just a heartbeat behind.
Two crests.
The audience murmured. "What—? How can there be two?"
The adjudicator's eyes widened. "There's a second mana signature overlapping yours. Someone else carries your crest pattern."
Lyn froze. His mind raced. Someone has my bond?
The air thickened as the Council's enforcers stepped closer, hands ready over their seals.
Arden whispered, "Lyn, say something. Deny it!"
But Lyn couldn't. Because he could feel it—through the ether, faint but undeniable—a presence that matched his own. The rhythm of Umbra's energy, mirrored and twisted.
A sharp pain cut through his arm. His crest flared red, bleeding light. And for a split second, he saw through another's eyes: a figure cloaked in gray, standing in another arena, another place—summoning a shadow beast identical to Umbra.
Then the vision snapped.
The adjudicator stumbled back. "His crest is resonating with an external source! Seal him—"
"Wait!" Lyn shouted, but the guards were already chanting. Mana chains erupted, forming a lattice of blue light around him. He could barely breathe as the seal constricted.
Arden's voice cut through the chaos. "Stop! He's not the imposter!"
"Silence!" an enforcer barked. "The Council will decide that."
The sigil above Lyn's head pulsed violently before shattering, scattering motes of crimson light. His vision dimmed, knees buckling as Umbra's suppressed voice screamed through his mind.
—They have taken my name.
And with those words, Lyn understood: someone had not merely copied his bond—they had stolen it.