The moment Erin stepped through the threshold, the world folded inward.
Heat pressed against his skin—not the dry warmth of sunlight, but something damp and smothering, as if the air itself had weight. The Ember Veil revealed itself slowly, like a thought forming behind closed eyes.
A forest.
No, a basin of trees, ancient and colossal. Trunks as wide as buildings rose from blackened mud, their bark split and scarred as though something had once tried to burn them from the inside. The canopy sealed the sky entirely, layers upon layers of leaves glowing faintly with embers trapped in their veins. Red-orange motes drifted through the air like dying sparks, sinking into the mire below.
Each step Erin took drew a wet, sucking sound from the ground. He exhaled and steadied himself. The mark on his hand pulsed. Not painfully but recognizable.
A blade answered his call. It did not appear with sound or spectacle. One moment his hand was empty, then weight settled into his grip, familiar and precise. A sword of condensed force extended from his palm, its form clean and narrow, the edge humming with restrained pressure. The color was earthen gray, streaked faintly with molten red lines that flowed and receded like veins.
A star-forged blade.
For a swordmage, the blade was not steel—it was self. The sharper the star, the sharper the edge.
Erin moved.
The first creature rose from the mud without warning, something lupine in shape but wrong in execution. Its limbs bent at improper angles, hide crusted with hardened ash. Its mouth opened too wide, revealing heat instead of teeth.
Erin pivoted, instinct guiding him. Elemental Earth answered first. It was his basic, his first.
The ground hardened beneath his feet, stabilizing him as he struck. The sword cleaved through the creature's neck in a single, efficient arc. The body collapsed, dissolving into embers before it hit the mud.
Erin didn't pause. A couple more followed. Then four.
He wove between them, steps lighter than they should have been, blade precise. Earth reinforced his movements, traction, balance, force distribution, while fire threaded subtly along the sword's edge, cauterizing and burning as it cut. Not wild nor reckless.
It was controlled.
He realized it halfway through the engagement.
I'm faster.
Not just physically, mentally. His decisions came cleaner, sharper. There was no hesitation between thought and motion. The second star burned steadily now, no longer flickering.
Most swordmages specialized in one attribute. Earth, fire, wind, lightning, water, ice, spirit, force, light, dark, and gravity—pick one and spend a lifetime mastering it.
A rare few could manage two. Three marked a prodigy. Four… four were legends.
Erin had always been earth-aligned. Fire had come later, clumsy and reluctant. Now it flowed.
The forest shuddered. That was when he felt it. A seep.
Not a tear as those were violent, obvious. This was subtler. A pressure mismatch. A wrongness in the mana flow, like heat bleeding through a sealed wall.
He followed it deeper into the rift.
The trees grew closer together, their roots forming twisted arches above the mud. The air thickened, vibrating faintly. At the center of a clearing, the veil thinned. Not open but compromised.
A fissure of warped light pulsed weakly, colors bleeding wrong, deep crimson threaded with something darker. The Red Rock anomaly.
Erin's chest tightened. Training rifts were not supposed to have this.
The seep reacted to him. The moment he stepped closer, it flared, hungry, reaching. The Mark on his hand burned sharply now, heat flooding his veins. He gritted his teeth.
"Dammit! Not today."
He planted his feet and drove his blade into the ground.
Earth surged upward, forming a stabilizing lattice around the fissure. Fire followed; not explosive, but refining, burning impurities away. Sweat poured down his spine as he poured everything he had into containment.
The seep fought back.
Pressure slammed into him, forcing him to one knee. His vision blurred. Something pulled at his stars from the inside, testing, probing.
The second star flared and then locked, it stabilizes. Pain lanced through his arm as the mark deepened, lines engraving themselves permanently. Beneath it, something else stirred.
A third point of light.
Faint. Unstable. But there.
Erin screamed through clenched teeth as he forced the containment closed, sealing the breach with brute will and refined control. The forest convulsed—then stilled.
Silence fell.
He collapsed backward into the mud, gasping, chest heaving. The sword dissolved into light, returning to his core.
Minutes passed.
Then he laughed. Breathless, incredulous.
He checked his sigil with trembling fingers. Two stars burned steadily. A third lingered like an afterimage, dim but undeniable.
When he finally exited the Ember Veil, the system chimed softly.
Training Rift: Cleared.
Time: 47% of expected duration for Three-Star Operative.
The technicians stared.
Erin just adjusted his jacket, heart still pounding, unaware that something far beyond the training center had felt his stars answer, and remembered his name.
~~~
Erin stepped out of the rift chamber as the seal closed behind him with a low, resonant hum.
Forty-eight hours. That was how long he'd been inside.
His boots touched polished stone, and for a moment the stillness of the training center felt unreal; too clean, too quiet after the murk and heat of the Ember Veil. His body registered fatigue only distantly, like a memory rather than a sensation. Sweat dried quickly against his skin. His breathing was steady. Too steady.
He rolled his shoulder once. No pain. No stiffness. That alone unsettled him.
"Finishing already?" Kaela's voice slid in from his left, light and teasing as ever. The branch manager leaned casually against a console, arms folded beneath her chest. She wore her usual fitted Bureau jacket, the collar unzipped just enough to be distracting, intentionally so.
She pushed herself upright and walked closer, eyes roaming over him with open interest.
"You shaved time off the projected clear again," she said. "Ember Veil usually takes a solid three-star at least four days. You walked out in half that."
Her gaze lingered, sharper now. Not just flirting.
Erin shrugged lightly. "Got lucky."
Kaela snorted. "That's not luck and you know it."
She reached out, fingers brushing his chest in a way that would've made most Marked stiffen or lean in to her charm. Erin didn't react. He'd learned long ago that Kaela's personal space didn't mean much to her.
"Hm," she hummed. "You've changed, much more so than two days ago."
It wasn't a question.
Up close, she could see it now. His frame was leaner, but denser, muscle resting differently beneath the skin. His posture had straightened without becoming rigid. Even his eyes, once habitually lowered, now met hers without hesitation, calm and unreadable.
Whatever had happened inside the rift had settled into him.
"Well," Kaela said at last, withdrawing her hand, "since you're apparently on a roll…"
She tapped her tablet, flicking a file open.
"How do you feel about a rerun?"
Erin paused, interest flickering on his eyes. "Rerun? What kind?"
"Big one." Her smile widened. "Six-star. Blue classification."
That made him still.
"A mission?" he asked.
Kaela shook her head. "Not officially. It's a rerun—post-clear sweep. Loot collection, residual suppression, anomaly mapping. Things like that. Anyway, being it as lower risk, the pay is not that what will you expect from the rift quality."
She tilted the tablet so he could see the file header.
RIFT RERUN AUTHORIZATION
CLASS: 6★ Blue
STATUS: Stabilized
LEAD UNIT: VANGUARD TIER – King's Crown
Erin's brow rose slightly.
King's Crown.
High-Star Tiered. Veterans. The kind of group whose members were walking deterrents—five stars and above, most with decades of field time, counting the rift that count times ten times faster than reality. When they led reruns, it meant the Bureau expected something or looking for something.
"It's a big operation," Kaela continued. "Multiple teams. Mixed stars. Support units, scouts, collectors. King's Crown will handle primary containment."
She looked at him sideways. "Compensation's lower than a frontline mission, but the rift quality is high. Blue-grade drops. Good materials."
Erin didn't hesitate. "I'll join."
Kaela blinked, then laughed softly. "Straight answer. I like that."
She studied him for another second, longer than necessary, before nodding and finalizing the authorization.
"Seventy-two hours from now," she said. "Briefing packet will be sent to your device. So make sure to rest up."
She paused, then added lightly, "Try not to surprise the evaluation board again, hm? They're already twitchy about you. Remember you're under monitoring for a month."
Erin inclined his head. "I'll be careful."
Kaela watched him go, eyes thoughtful now instead of playful.
He didn't notice.
Erin left the training center and stepped into the open air, the city unfolding around him in familiar layers, traffic humming, people moving, the distant silhouette of floating landmasses and the ever-present red anomaly hanging in the sky like a wound that had never healed.
He jogged home at an easy pace, letting the rhythm of his steps steady his thoughts.
Six-star blue.
Rerun or not, that meant proximity to something dangerous enough that the Bureau didn't trust it to stay quiet.
And somewhere beneath the calm surface of his awareness, his Mark pulsed, three stars now, one faint but unmistakable, warm, alert.
As if it already knew.
Whatever waited inside that rift, it wasn't finished with him yet.
~~~
On his way home, Erin made a detour.
Elira's residence lay within one of the most heavily secured districts in the city, a place reserved for political elites, military magnates, and those whose existence quietly shaped the nation. As a Marked, Erin had clearance to enter without issue, though he never quite felt like he belonged among the manicured streets and silent vigilance.
The house, no, the mansion, rose behind towering walls layered with both modern surveillance systems and ancient magical sigils woven seamlessly into the stone. The protection wasn't merely decorative. The estate spanned nearly two city blocks, its presence imposing yet strangely tranquil.
Erin landed lightly on the pavement before the gates and reached out to ring the video security doorbell.
The screen flickered to life, revealing an elderly man with a neatly groomed white beard and equally full white hair. His sharp eyes leaned closer to the camera before softening with recognition.
"Is that you, Master Erin?"
Erin winced inwardly. After all these years, he still hadn't grown used to that title.
"Ah—yes. It's me," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
The majordomo—
Albrecht, Elira had once introduced him as, tilted his head slightly, no doubt registering the subtle changes in Erin's appearance.
"Is Elira home?" Erin asked.
There was a brief hesitation. Just a flicker.
"Yes, young lady Elira is present," Albrecht said carefully. "However, we were instructed not to disturb her for the time being."
That made sense. Elira was still continuing her studies, and her schedule was often relentless. Erin felt a quiet sense of relief anyway, knowing she was home, that she was safe.
"I understand," he said. "Please tell her I—"
"Is that Erin?"
The voice came from behind the screen.
Albrecht straightened. "Yes, young lady."
"Let him in."
The gates responded instantly, unlocking with a muted hum as sigils briefly shimmered before fading. Erin stepped inside.
Sebastian greeted him properly in the foyer and led him toward the eastern wing of the mansion. There, sunlight spilled across a vast flower garden in full bloom—soft colors layered against trimmed hedges and stone paths. The air carried the faint scent of tea and jasmine.
Elira sat at a small outdoor table, porcelain cups already prepared. Her long dark-blue hair was braided loosely to one side. She wore a thick, flowing light blue gown, a white shawl draped over her shoulders. There was a faint heaviness beneath her eyes, the unmistakable look of someone who had only just woken.
"Hey," she greeted simply.
If she noticed the changes in him, the sharper posture, the subtle weight in his presence, she didn't comment on them.
"Come," she added lightly. "Have some afternoon tea with me."
Erin hesitated, suddenly aware of himself. Two days in a training rift didn't exactly leave one presentable. He probably smelled like ash and sweat.
As if reading his thoughts, Elira's lips curved into a small, knowing smile.
"I've seen you worse," she said. "Remember when you had that accident when we were seven?"
Erin froze.
"…On your pants," she finished.
His face burned instantly.
Elira laughed softly, the sound light and melodic, drifting through the garden like a breeze.
For a moment, the world felt normal again.
Her laughter lingered in the garden, light and soft, as if it belonged somewhere untouched by rifts and stars.
Erin rubbed the back of his neck again, averting his eyes. "That was one time," he muttered. "And you promised never to bring it up again."
"I promised not to tell anyone else," Elira corrected mildly, lifting her teacup. Steam curled around her fingers. "You're exempt."
He sighed and finally stepped closer, taking the seat across from her. The garden was immaculate; rows of pale lilies and dusk-blue blossoms arranged with almost military precision. Even here, he could feel the layers of protection humming faintly beneath the ground, sigils overlapping like a quiet heartbeat.
Someone had already set a cup for him. He noticed that before anything else.
Elira watched him over the rim of her teacup. Her gaze lingered for half a second longer than usual, unreadable. If she noticed the changes in him, the straighter posture, the quieter weight in his presence, she gave no sign.
"You came back early," she said.
"Finished a training rift," Erin replied. "Ember Veil."
Her fingers paused, just barely, before she set the cup down.
"That one?" she asked, voice calm. Too calm.
"Yeah. Took longer than expected," he added quickly. "Nothing serious."
Elira studied him again, more carefully this time. Her eyes move, not searching, not worried, but assessing, the way she did when something didn't fit neatly into place.
"You smell like ash," she said.
"Forest mud too," he admitted.
A faint smile ghosted across her lips. "At least you didn't burn the place down."
"Only a little," Erin replied, then stiffened, realizing what he'd admitted. "Figuratively," he added quickly. "But… how did you know?"
That earned him a soft, amused huff. "About the fire?" She tilted her head slightly. "Or rather—your fire?"
Erin went still, then nodded once.
"I assumed as much," Elira said calmly. "Your second star felt… unusually hot back then. During the rift incident."
Erin's fingers drifted to the back of his hand without thinking.
If Elira noticed the faint, unstable shimmer of a third star beneath the skin, she gave no sign of it at all.
Silence settled between them, comfortable in the way only years could make it. Erin wrapped his hands around the warm cup, letting the heat sink into his palms. For a moment, the world felt… normal. As if he were just another guest in a quiet garden, not someone who had sealed a tear in reality with his bare will.
Elira broke the silence first.
"You shouldn't push yourself," she said lightly. "Especially now."
He looked up. "Now?"
She met his gaze, her expression gentle but firm. "After what happened. The Bureau may act like it's routine, but changes like that don't come without consequences."
So she did know. But then again, she always know things like this.
Erin nodded slowly. "They're watching me for a month. If nothing else happens, they'll adjust my status."
"And if something does happen?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Then I'll deal with it."
Her eyes narrowed just a fraction. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have," he replied honestly.
Elira leaned back in her chair, shawl slipping slightly from her shoulder. She reached up and adjusted it without thinking, a habit as old as their childhood. "You always say that."
"And you always worry too much," Erin said.
She smiled again, but this time it didn't reach her eyes.
A breeze passed through the garden, stirring petals and leaves. Erin felt it brush against his skin, and beneath that, something else. A faint pressure, distant but familiar, like a memory trying to surface.
Elira must have sensed it too. Her fingers tightened briefly around the porcelain cup.
"Are you joining another run?" she asked.
"I might be gone again soon," he answered with a nod. "I signed up for a rerun. A big one. Six-star blue."
Elira's expression didn't change.
"I know," she said simply.
Erin blinked. "You do?"
She nodded, eyes lowering briefly to her tea. "Lyrenne will be there."
That name alone explained everything.
"Oh," Erin said quietly.
"If she's leading," Elira continued, calm and assured, "then there's nothing to worry about. Even if I can't come along."
Her tone was steady, almost detached, but there was something beneath it. Not concern. Not fear.
Trust.
Erin nodded, accepting it. "It's in seventy-two hours."
"Then rest before then," Elira said. "You look like someone who's been pushing himself too hard."
They finished their tea in silence, the kind that didn't need words. When Erin finally stood to leave, Elira rose with him.
"Erin," she said.
He turned.
Her gaze held his, steady and searching, as if measuring something only she could see. "If anything feels… wrong," she said carefully, "promise me you won't handle it alone."
He hesitated.
Then nodded. "I promise."
She seemed satisfied with that, even if they both knew how fragile promises could be.
As he walked back toward the gates, Erin felt it again, that subtle pull beneath his skin, the quiet heat coiled deep in his stars.
And for the first time, he wondered…
Had it been there all along? Or had something, deep within the rift, finally begun to wake up?