The abandoned monastery sat high in the cliffs, wrapped in ivy and shadow.
Once, monks had prayed here — now, only the wind whispered through the stone halls.
They arrived at dusk, exhausted and bleeding.
Elric sealed the entrance with a flick of his hand, runes burning faintly blue before fading into the wall.
Kale dropped onto the cold stone floor, clutching his head. His magic pulsed erratically — raw and unsteady, like it didn't belong entirely to him.
Lyra crouched beside him, a small cut running along her cheek. "Easy," she murmured, pressing a cool hand to his shoulder. "You almost burned yourself out back there."
Kale breathed out slowly. "I didn't even know what I was doing. It just… happened."
Elric sat across from them, his staff resting on his knees, face drawn tight. "That's because you're still fighting the current. You're using power that isn't wholly yours."
Kale's eyes flicked to him. "You mean Aurelion's."
Elric didn't answer.
Lyra stood, pacing. "We can't stay here long. That witch will come back — and next time she won't be alone."
"She won't find this place easily," Elric said quietly. "It's off the leyline paths."
Kale frowned. "Leylines?"
Elric looked up. "The streams of mana that connect every supernatural realm. The Coven controls them. That's how they track and bind magic users." He paused, voice thickening. "That's how they found your parents."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Kale stared at the floor. "You knew."
Elric closed his eyes. "Yes."
Lyra turned sharply. "What do you mean yes? You—"
"I was part of the Council when your father fled," Elric said, cutting her off. "I tried to warn him, but by the time I could, the order had already been signed. They wanted the child destroyed before his power could manifest."
Kale's pulse roared in his ears. "You were one of them."
"I was one of those who left," Elric said, his tone like gravel. "The day they burned the archives, I destroyed every record that linked your parents to the upper houses. I thought it would be enough." He looked up, guilt shadowing his eyes. "It wasn't."
Kale's hands trembled. "You could have told me."
"I thought hiding the truth would protect you."
"It didn't!" Kale's voice cracked. "They still found us. They still killed them."
The words hung heavy in the hollow air.
Lyra stepped forward, eyes burning. "And what now, old man? You gonna keep more secrets? Because if you do, he'll never trust you again."
Elric's face softened. "There are things you both aren't ready to know. About Aurelion. About what he left behind."
Kale's eyes narrowed. "Then make me ready."
For a long moment, Elric said nothing. Then, slowly, he drew from his cloak a small metal disk — old, tarnished, covered in runes.
"This was found near your father's body," he said. "It's a fragment of Aurelion's sigil — the key to unlocking his vault."
Kale's breath caught. "Vault?"
Elric nodded. "A place where Aurelion stored forbidden spells, relics… and memories. If we can find it before the Coven does, it may reveal how to destroy them."
Lyra tilted her head. "And where is it?"
Elric hesitated. "In the Ruined City of Vareth."
Kale frowned. "Never heard of it."
"You wouldn't have," Elric said. "It was erased from every human map centuries ago — buried beneath the world you know."
A low rumble echoed through the monastery walls. The wards flickered.
Lyra's expression sharpened. "Please tell me that's not what I think it is."
Elric rose to his feet, staff glowing again. "They found the trace faster than expected."
Kale stood beside him, determination replacing his fear. "Then we move."
Elric looked at him — this time with a strange respect. "You're starting to sound like your father."
Kale's throat tightened, but he didn't respond.
Lyra smirked faintly, fangs glinting. "Let's go then. Before they rewrite history again."
As they moved toward the back passage, Aurelion's voice whispered faintly in Kale's mind — softer than before, almost gentle.
"Vareth... the city where gods were made and monsters were born. If you enter, boy, you may never return."
Kale's reply was steady. "Then I'll make my own way back."