The connection to Pantax was reestablished. The wait was over.
Then the events unfolded swiftly.
Just when they gathered at the gate's stone platform Master Lira emerged.
She stepped off the gates with the rigid poise of a warrior, but she looked worn. The usually sharp intensity in her gaze was dulled with the exhaustion of someone who had seen too much in too little time.
Master Lira's gaze swept over them and stopped on Mokai.
"Pantax suffered losses and a lot of damage, but it survived. It is safe," she said.
A collective breath was released, tension melting from their shoulders as if they had been holding it all this time without realizing.
Fengyu hadn't noticed just how tightly wound he had been until now. Seline closed her eyes briefly, Kaelyn let out a slow exhale. Even Master Gun, gave the slightest nod, his stance easing just a fraction.
Mokai, however, did not let the relief linger. He took a single step forward, gaze locked onto Master Lira.
"Then I want to return. Immediately."
The statement cut through the momentary reprieve.
Seline turned to him, brows knitting together. "Mokai-"
"My family is there," he interrupted. "My people. I want to return home."
Master Lira regarded him carefully. "The gates are stable. If you wish to go back, you can."
Master Gun gave a small nod. "You can go, if you wish."
Mokai nodded, already stepping toward the platform.
Fengyu exchanged a glance with Kaelyn, who sighed.
"Is he really going right now? Just like that?"
Fengyu shrugged.
"Wouldn't you, if it were your home?"
Kaelyn didn't answer, but her expression softened.
Seline reached out, touching Mokai's arm lightly before he could step into the gate platform. She simply said, "We'll see each other again. Stay safe."
He hesitated, just for a moment, and gave her a smile with a node. Then he gazed at Fengyu and Kaelyn, before turning away.
Master Lira watched him, the weariness never quite leaving her gaze. Something still lingered behind her eyes - something unspoken.
Just like that, Mokai was gone.
Master Lira, without further delay, departed to report to the high monk, while Master Gun gave them a simple directive - return to their quarters or the library, as they wished.
They had lost a companion, but in truth, they were glad for it. He was where he needed to be - home. As they watched the gate ripple and solidify once more, sealing the path he had taken, silence settled between them, no longer burdened with the weight of waiting.
Soon, detailed reports on the events in Pantax arrived. They outlined the extent of the destruction, the toll of casualties, and the struggle to unseal the mountain gates. Alongside the grim details came a formal request - resources Pantax needed to rebuild, accompanied by the promise of generous compensation.
Renyi and Lian, Seline's and Kaelyn's servants, were also sent back to Mytharok.
In the following days, the dust began to settle. Pantax had survived. Mokai had returned home. Kaelyn and Seline had also requested and were granted their leave.
It all looked like a proper happy end. Did it not? Unexpected, swift, happy…
Surely, the matter of Mytharok was not closed. Surely, all of them would return on some point. Surely, they still had a lot of questions and a lot to learn. Also wanted to visit their homes.
Fengyu could not settle. Something gnawed at the edges of his mind, a whisper of unease. Something was wrong. Not with Pantax. Not with the aftermath of the collision. This was something else, something distant yet pressing, as if an unseen presence loomed just beyond his awareness.
Was it that little beast again? Wait,... not so little…
He had almost forgotten.
Renyi. And with her, the dictionary of mythical beasts - the one that should still be in her possession.
Fengyu had been considering how to approach them with the question -how to raise the topic without sounding too interested - but before he could make any plans, the solution presented itself of its own.
Just before her departure, Seline had approached him with a gift. It was a weathered book wrapped in leather - the dictionary.
There was something in her eyes when she handed it to him. A quiet, knowing look. She had hopes for him, some expectation that he couldn't yet place. The silent weight of that gaze made him wonder what was that secret she was guarding all along.
"Take it," she had said softly. "It can be useful for you. Return it to the library, if you wish. Or not… We have already copied it."
On the other hand, Kaelyn's departure was a far simpler affair. She waved at him cheerfully from the gates, her smile bright.
"We will meet again, Fengyu!" she called out, her voice carrying with the warmth of a promise.
And then, with a final wave, she stepped into the liquid surface of the gates and disappeared.
So this was the end. The team dissolved.
It wasn't that Fengyu had particularly liked the arrangement, but he couldn't deny the sense of attachment that had quietly built over time. It felt like something had slipped away - something unfinished. A pity, really, that it had to end.
Wasn't there supposed to be more to this?
His natural gift as a seer had faded into the background in the wake of recent events. And he was relieved. Nobody mentioned it any more.
Fengyu spent hours poring over the beasts' dictionary, flipping through pages filled with detailed descriptions of mythical creatures. He scanned the entries for anything that could resemble his "little beast" - or, rather, the not-so-little… But every entry seemed to pass by without the answer he was looking for. The creature was as elusive as ever.
Why had he been so sure it should be there? Maybe the form he had seen wasn't its true form?
In the days that followed, Fengyu was left alone, uncertain of what to do with himself. The time of his return to Solirae was drawing near - only a few days remained - but for now, he lingered in a strange limbo.
He tried to make sense of everything that had happened: the Temple, the Guild, the seers, the revelations of the 16 higher dimensions. It all felt both astonishingly open and maddeningly obscure - knowledge within reach, yet wrapped in layers of secrecy.
What was he supposed to do with it all?
Return to his old, carefree ways - living off his brother's graces and drifting through life with no greater purpose? Or should he act on what he had learned? Take responsibility for what exactly?
And why?
Because the temple demanded it?
Or was it… the little beast?
One day, without quite knowing why, he found himself wandering the gardens of the temple. His feet took him all the way to the forgotten, half-collapsed cellar and the mysterious mural, he had seen so many and not so many days ago. He stood before it in silence, the setting sun casting long shadows across the worn stone. It was exactly as he remembered this.
The moment frozen in time - the dagger striking down another, piercing their chest where the heart had been. The surrounding figures recoiling in horror. A betrayal. A murder. A moment of devastation etched forever into stone.
He had tried to find anything in the annals of the Temple history that would match this depiction, but failed. Nothing matched. It was as if the moment had been erased - not just forgotten, but deliberately buried. And yet… someone had carved it. Someone had remembered.
And then - he found something.
Buried in the cover of an ancient annal, used as a spare piece of paper or deliberately concealed, was a single obscure note. It mentioned a murder of a founder of a sect. No context, no explanation. Just a flat statement of fact, scribbled in a different hand, as if whoever wrote it didn't dare to elaborate.
It made no sense.
The official story passed down through generations was polished and whole. A tale of divine vision. The Great Seer, Elarion, illuminated by the Nyx Void, glimpsed into the higher dimensions and received a calling. With the blessing of heavens, the Seer founded the Temple to safeguard cosmic wisdom and protect the harmony of the charted worlds.
According to that version, the temple's history from the early years on had been a smooth rise - quiet, steady, enlightened. No wars, no schisms. A clean lineage of knowledge passed from seer to seer, like flame from candle to candle. Elarion died of the old age, after passing all his knowledge to his successors.
But standing before the hidden mural, with that strange note in mind, Fengyu began to wonder. That story was too clean. Nothing in the known worlds was ever that simple. There must be dirt buried beneath. But how could he even ascertain that the mural referred to the founder? Because of that obscure note? It could be some totally different story.
Fengyu felt tired. And used.
Why was he even entangled in this story? He hadn't chosen this. Someone was using him. He was certain of that much. He just didn't know who. Or why.
And he hated it.
He had always hated that feeling - of being a pawn on someone else's board. He had lived his life avoiding it, deflecting duty with charm, sidestepping ambition with pragmatism. Even on the cost of his own reputation or wealth. He valued his principles. In his delusion he believed that there existed absolute justice in the matter of things.
Let others play their games.
But now the game had come for him. And he didn't know yet whether to fight it - or play along.
Sudden anger arose in him. He would not be treated that way. He shook his head, backing away from the mural.
He wasn't some chosen one, the fated or whatever name they wished to put on it.
He was Fengyu. A man who had built a life - however flawed - on freedom. On staying unbound. He hadn't asked for visions or dragons from higher dimensions. He hadn't asked to walk the Nyx Void or to glimpse truths not meant for humans.
And if fate had chosen him? Then fate had made a mistake.
"I'm not playing your game," he muttered.
Just before his departure, Mokai had sent him a message - brief and to the point. Enclosed with it was a sealed return envelope marked of as confidential, the kind that bypassed all formal procedures.
He had asked Fengyu to check the Seers' Department archives for any signs of activity in a specific quadrant of the 16 dimensional space. No explanation. Just coordinates, a quiet request, and the envelope.
Intrigued, Fengyu combed through annals, notes and shifting energy maps, piecing together what there was to find. There were mentions of strong currents sweeping across multiple dimensions. Surges in life-force energy. Fluctuations that had drawn attention, even concern. But there was no context, no interpretation. The archives offered only data, no meaning.
He copied all the relevant records, sealing them in the envelope Mokai had provided.
When he brought it to the gate, the guardian simply took it from him with a nod - no questions asked, no names logged in the book of messages. The envelope passed through, seamlessly.
It was a clever move. Had he sent it in his own name, it would have been recorded and flagged. Whatever Mokai was digging into, he clearly didn't want it traced.
Fengyu watched the envelope vanish into the silver liquid of the portal.
Why had Mokai wanted this?
That was a question for another time. But he would ask. Eventually.
The journey home was swift - too swift, perhaps, for his mind still tangled in recent events and new questions.
The gate liquid surface, and in a breath of light, Fengyu was gone from Mytharok. He stepped out into the high, crystalline air of Solirae, where the sky always seemed a shade too perfect and the wind carried the scent of impossible things - jasmine, frost, and something like sunlight.
Soliraen capital was built into the cliffs above the cloud line, its alabaster towers rising toward the heavens. Marble courtyards hung suspended over deep blue chasms, connected by delicate, floating bridges. From above, the city looked like a dream balanced on the edge of the world. From within, it felt like a place holding its breath.
Fengyu descended the long causeway toward the main square. And as he walked, he realized how much the city mirrored himself.
Solirae always looked untouched, unsullied - but only because it worked so hard to stay that way. Its marble streets and floating terraces gave the illusion of effortless grace, but beneath it all was a quiet, constant resistance to the chaos beyond its borders.
He too had built a life of tranquil detachment, sidestepping the burden of purpose, deflecting the pull of greater tides with cultivated coolness. He had stayed just far enough from the edge to avoid slipping into the chaos of other people's entanglement, being swallowed by the violent and merciless power struggles. He knew his limits. He was, in fact, nobody. What could he possibly offer to powers that ruled the charted universe? What would become of him when whatever limited usefulness he possessed had reached its end?
Here, in the hushed serenity of his home, he was hidden and safe.
Yet now, like Solirae itself, he sensed that this illusion had always been more fragile than it appeared.
He glanced back once, toward the gate, already fading from view. Behind him, the world had shifted. And Solirae, for all its beauty, suddenly seemed far too still. Too far removed from the chaos he now carried within.
The gates of the palace stood open for him, as they always did. Fengyu passed through them with the easy grace of someone born into privilege, though he felt none of its comfort. He hadn't been gone long but already the silence here felt heavier.
A servant waited at the stairs.
"Master Fengyu, Lord Shengyu is in the terrasse garden. Shall I-"
"No need," Fengyu cut in with a small smile. "I'd hate to ruin his afternoon by making it official."
The halls were exactly as he remembered them: beautiful and sterile. He passed portraits of ancestors with eyes like judgment and stepped into the sun-drenched terrasse garden unannounced.
His brother didn't look up right away. Seated at a stone table, Lord Shengyu was reading, as if the universe still required study to be ruled. When he finally did glance up, his eyes were unreadable.
"You returned."
"Surprised?"
"No, not surprised," he replied. "I thought... perhaps, you had found something else to occupy you. But it's good to know you're not causing more trouble than usual. Solirae prefers when its embarrassments come home quietly."
Fengyu let out a soft laugh, lounging into a chair opposite.
"And I do try to disappoint with style."
There it was again - that dance. Neither would name what truly passed between them: resentment, guilt, some sliver of affection buried too deep to matter now. Fengyu wore his defiance like silk; his brother wore his restraint like armour.
"I suppose you'll want your old rooms."
"Is that all you are going to say?" Fengyu's voice was laced with a touch of amusement.
As Fengyu leaned back in his chair, watching the light trace perfect lines across the marble floor, he couldn't help but feel it - something was changing. In himself.
"What is more to say? We received the announcement from the Temple. You had been accepted as an outer guardian and you would be sent home shortly. And here you are."
Fengyu's eyes flicked back to his brother.
"And what about Pantax?"
"What about Pantax? There was some turbulence in the Magic Guild, but we have already received the update of the maps."
"And that's all? No further details? What about the collision?"
Lord Shengyu had a way of downplaying significant events, wrapping them in layers of indifference to keep their impact minimal, but this was way too much.
"You're talking about the Mytharok interpretation."
Fengyu said nothing. He watched his brother's face carefully.
"The Temple's always had a fondness for poetic catastrophes," Lord Shengyu went on. "Tears in the veil, dimensional fraying, cosmic harmonics… sounds impressive. But not particularly useful. And certainly not real."
Fengyu leaned back slowly. Was that it? Did he truly believe the Temple's knowledge was myth-draped superstition? Or was he just choosing not to say more?
"You think it's just a fantasy?"
"I think it's a convenient way to justify panic," Shengyu replied smoothly. "The kind of panic that creates leverage."
Fengyu raised an eyebrow.
"The Temple's always been clever with timing. A few tremors in the currents, some conveniently obscure readings… and suddenly they're indispensable again." He gave a small, dry smile. "It's not a crisis - it's a power play."
Fengyu didn't respond right away. Was that really how Shengyu saw it? Or was this just a polished deflection? He spoke of the Temple like a foreign force, like something to be contained.
"And if they're right?" Fengyu asked quietly. "If the shifts are more than just noise?"
Lord Shengyu gave a faint exhale, barely a breath of laughter. "Then the Temple is lucky. Their predictions create fear. Fear breeds influence."
"I was there, brother. I saw it. The collision isn't theory - it was real. I saw the two worlds layer over one another. It's not a myth."
Shengyu finally looked at him - truly looked at him - for the first time since their conversation began. His calculating gaze lingered.
"So," he said slowly, "there's truth to the Temple's theories after all. Interesting." He leaned back pondering a new issue. "Then it's also probable it won't happen again anytime soon."
Fengyu stilled. His brother's mind worked like a knife, sharp and efficient. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either.
"Statistically, yes," Fengyu said. "But it's not enough to gamble on."
A silence fell between them, not comfortable, not hostile - measured. It stretched - neither of them eager to be the first to break it.
At last Lord Shengyu tapped a finger against the table.
"You speak differently now," he said.
Fengyu didn't reply. He wasn't sure how.
"You used to glide over things. Dance around what really matters. And now-" a slight narrowing of the eyes, "-now you speak like someone who believes in something. When did that happen?"
Fengyu gave a humourless smile.
"Maybe while I was trying not to die."
A flicker of acknowledgment passed over Lord Shengyu's features.
"I suppose that tends to rearrange one's priorities."
He shifted back to find a more comfortable position.
"Then tell me, then. What exactly did you see?"