"We can do our first mission at the kingdom of Myrrhvalen," Keal explained. "It's not that difficult. We've been there before, and they're relaxed over there. But after what happened in Ignetharion, things might be a bit harder—not impossible, just… different."
Lior had already made up her mind. She wanted to finish the mission quickly. She still didn't know whether her powers—white and black magic—would merge or clash. Her friends agreed without hesitation.
"That would be nice, Keal," Lior said. "We've been going back and forth to that kingdom, and they haven't suspected anything. It's a good place to start."
"Then…" they all turned to Kira and smiled.
They wasted no time. It was night, and they knew the students and archmentors were already asleep. No one would notice their departure from the academy.
They dressed in their usual mission attire. As always, the five cloaked themselves in black magic.
Their travel didn't take long. Using their power to form a magical circle, they arrived swiftly in the land of Myrrhvalen.
Unlike their previous missions where they split up, this time they decided to move in two groups.
Kira, Keal, and Thorne headed to the west wing of the palace, while Lior and Jex took the east. They had snuck into the palace many times before—they knew exactly where to go.
It didn't take long before they reached a heavily guarded room. But tonight, strangely, there were no guards. Lior and Jex exchanged a wary glance.
Using the magic she had learned, Lior cast a spell.
"Sálin'ta Veyrra, lunen na'kai,
Let silence be the sentinel's eye.
Guard the breath that cannot be seen,
Bind the door to what has been."
A thin white line shimmered into existence, tracing the edges of a door that wasn't visible. It pulsed once—soft, like breath held in warning—then settled into stillness. Lior smiled, not out of cruelty, but certainty. She knew exactly what that line was for.
"This isn't just a barrier," she whispered. "It's hunger."
The spell was called Kálin'ta Sánar, the Thread of Devouring Silence. Born from the forgotten rites of Veyrra'thel, it didn't guard with force—it guarded with hunger. Woven from ancestral bone ash and moonlight, it was sensitive to scent and soul. It could not be tricked. It could not be reasoned with.
Once it sensed an unfamiliar presence—an intruder without the mark of memory—it would awaken. The thread would unravel, wrap around the body like a lover's embrace, and consume it from the inside out. No scream would escape. No trace would remain.
Jex stepped back, eyes wide. "Lior… that's not just a ward. That's a curse."
She didn't deny it. "This door hides more than secrets. It hides what we're looking for."
The line pulsed again, as if listening.
"Let the forgotten feed," she whispered, "and let silence be the only witness."
Lior turned to Jex, who looked uneasy. "You wait here. I'll go inside. You'll be my lookout this time," she said with a teasing smile.
Jex gave her a sharp look but nodded.
Lior walked toward the door guarded by Kálin'ta Sánar, ready to attack—but something unexpected happened.
The white thread pulsed sharply, sensing movement. Its hunger stirred. It was woven to devour, to protect through obliteration. Any unfamiliar scent would trigger its wrath.
But as Lior stepped closer, the thread did not strike.
Instead, it trembled.
A soft ripple passed through its length, like a shiver of recognition. It did not recoil. It did not lash. It began to hum—a low, mournful tone, like a lullaby remembered by bone.
The spell remembered her.
Not as its master, but as the one who once spared one of its kind—a thread-creature born of silence and ash, left to die in the ruins of Veyrra'thel.
She didn't know why it acted this way, but she was grateful it didn't kill her.
As far as Lior knew, Kálin'ta Sánar was one of the most dangerous spell-guards in existence. No one dared approach what it protected.
She held her breath as the thread lifted from the stone, curling gently around her wrist—not to bind, but to greet. It glowed faintly, then etched a symbol into the air: a spiral of memory, a mark of trust.
"Welcome back," it whispered in a language unfamiliar to Lior—but she understood it. And that confused her.
The thread pulsed once more, then faded into the stone. The door revealed itself. It was no longer a threat.
Jex stepped forward from the shadows. "What was that?"
Lior shrugged slightly, her voice quiet. "It's strange… I never use that spell, but I felt I'd met them before. But I don't remember."
Jex nodded and opened the door.
Inside was a vast chamber. Statues lined the walls—figures unknown to them, cloaked in shadow and silence.
As they walked through the dim hallway, Lior felt eyes watching them. She turned carefully, searching—but saw nothing.
Still, the gaze lingered.
"We need to be fast, Jex. Something's here. Something we can't see," she whispered as she drew closer to him.
They moved quickly, half-walking, half-running, until they reached a table with a treasure box resting atop it.
Jex stepped forward, but Lior stopped him.
"I'll do it," she said, and summoned the wind to lift her gently.
The stone around the table was a trap. If someone stepped on it, they would fall into an ocean no one could survive.
It was a trick. The floor looked solid—but it was an illusion. Beneath it was a dark ocean, home to dangerous nymphs.
Lior retrieved the treasure box. Nothing happened. She smiled and floated back to Jex, who looked puzzled.
He understood what she had done, but not why it had to be her.
"That's a vast ocean. An illusion. If you step on it, you'll fall into the depths. And you'll be pulled down. We don't know what happens after that—but I know nymphs live there," she explained.
Later, the group reunited in the forest clearing where they had agreed to meet. They spent the night there, resting under the stars.
Keal opened the treasure box. Inside was a blue gem—radiant, pulsing with quiet power.
But within that gem was a fragment of someone's life.
Someone dangerous.
Lior stared at the gem as her friends admired it. She felt something stir inside her—a strange mix of happiness and longing.
It confused her.
Why would she feel that way?
Or maybe… it was because they had finally retrieved their first gem.
That night, while the others slept, Lior sat alone beneath the trees. The gem glowed faintly in her palm, and she couldn't shake the feeling that it was watching her.
Not with malice.
But with memory.
She didn't know what part of her had awakened the spell. She didn't know why the gem felt familiar.
But she knew this was only the beginning.
Somewhere in the silence, something was waiting to be remembered.
And Lior—whether she was ready or not—was the one chosen to remember it.