The underground chamber pulsed with cold, humming magic. Dust hung in the air like ghostly threads, stirred only by the faint crackle of power radiating from the glowing sigil on the floor. Luke stood motionless, every muscle tensed, eyes locked on the hooded figure before him.
The stranger's cloak rippled despite the still air, shadows curling around their limbs like living smoke. Beneath the hood, pale blue eyes glowed with eerie clarity—calm, unblinking, and utterly inhuman.
"You've come far," the figure said, voice a hollow echo, neither male nor female. "But this is where your path ends."
Luke raised a hand. Power surged to his fingertips in a bright halo of light. "We'll see about that."
He struck first—light lanced forward, a focused beam aimed straight at the figure's chest. It should have torn through flesh and bone.
Instead, the Harbinger caught it.
Caught it.
Their palm closed around the light, absorbing it like mist into a void. The glow vanished, snuffed out in an instant.
Luke's eyes narrowed.
"Well, that's new," Amara muttered beside him. Her stance was low, feral—fangs bared, claws extended, her red eyes glowing like twin embers. "Guess we're not dealing with some low-tier freak."
The Harbinger raised their hand, fingers curling into a symbol Luke didn't recognize—but Amara did. She leapt forward with a snarl, sending a blast of dark flame toward the sigil. The floor erupted with sparks, breaking the spell before it could form.
"I know what clan you belong to," she spat. "You don't scare me."
The figure tilted their head slightly, almost curious. "The fallen queen," they murmured.
She froze. "What did you call me?"
"You should not exist," the Harbinger said, stepping forward. "And yet, here you are—tamed, collared by a human boy. How quaint."
Luke stepped between them. "One more word and I'll erase your face."
The Harbinger didn't flinch. With a flick of their wrist, the chamber darkened—an unnatural eclipse swallowing the light. Dozens of shadowy tendrils erupted from the floor, writhing like snakes, aiming to trap them both.
Luke reacted instinctively. "Aether Shield!"
A translucent dome flared into existence around him and Amara, the tendrils slamming against it with shrieks like tearing metal.
Amara turned to him. "I'll break the sigil. You hold it off."
He nodded. "Don't die."
"No promises."
She darted around the edge of the fight, claws flashing. Luke dropped the shield and hurled a chain of rapid-fire incantations. Bolts of lightning, shards of ice, and cutting winds tore through the air. The Harbinger met them all with maddening ease—deflecting, dodging, absorbing.
But Luke wasn't trying to kill.
He was buying time.
Amara reached the sigil just as it began to glow again—faster now, unstable. She leapt forward and plunged her claws into the center, screaming a spell Luke had never heard before. The runes cracked, flared—and then exploded in a shockwave of dark energy that knocked them both back.
The Harbinger staggered slightly for the first time.
But instead of striking, they laughed. Low. Soft. Amused.
Behind them, a shimmer in the air formed a mirror-like portal. Within it stood seven cloaked figures, each veiled in shadow. Their eyes, however, burned with the same pale blue fire.
One of them stepped forward. "He's adapting. Quickly. Accelerated resonance confirmed."
"Shall we retrieve him?" another asked.
"No," a deeper voice said. "Let him struggle. He is not yet… ready."
The Harbinger bowed their head slightly. "As you command."
Then, with a flick of the hand, the portal vanished—and so did the Harbinger, swallowed by swirling smoke. The only thing left behind was a small, dark crystal at the center of the cracked sigil.
Luke stumbled to his feet, breathing heavily. Amara groaned, her knees scraped and bleeding, but she was still conscious.
"What the hell was that?" she rasped.
Luke knelt beside the crystal. It hovered slightly above the floor, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. When he reached for it, it glowed brighter—warm to his touch.
"I think," he said slowly, "they were expecting me."
Later That Night…
The dormitory was quiet. The moonlight pooled through the windows as Amara bandaged her arm, her usual sarcasm muted by fatigue. Luke sat at his desk, the dark crystal floating beside him in a containment field.
"So…" Amara said after a long silence. "They know who you are. They're watching you. And they want you alive."
Luke didn't look up. "Which means I'm useful to them."
Amara grimaced. "I hate being useful to bad people."
"Same," Luke muttered. Then, after a pause: "Thanks for backing me up."
She looked at him, surprised. "I'm not letting you die before you pay off my pastry tab."
He chuckled under his breath. "Fair."
But inside, Luke's mind raced. The council. The sigil. The crystal reacting to him. And that one word they used—resonance. Was this still a game?
Or was it something more?
Elsewhere…
In the upper tower of Crystal College, Principal Franklin stood before a glowing mirror, his face drawn with concern. The magical threads inside pulsed erratically, the symbols flickering.
He turned as Cosima entered.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked.
He nodded. "They've returned. The Shadow Serpant are in motion."
Her eyes widened. "What do we do?"
Franklin hesitated, then gestured toward the mirror. Luke's face shimmered into view.
"We watch him. Closely. If he falls into their hands, this world will burn."