The Storm-Worn Plains
The rain had slowed, but the world still trembled.
Nova stood over the fallen Forge-Wrought, lightning crackling faintly across his sword. The creature's body was shattered — its chest caved inward, runes flickering like dying embers. Yet even as it fell still, something pulsed within the fragments of its core.
A heartbeat.
Not human.
Not alive.
But familiar.
Nova knelt, placing a hand against the broken rune pattern.
"Who made you?"
His voice was a whisper, but the storm carried it like thunder.
For a moment, nothing.
Then — a faint glow, weak but insistent, pulsed once more.
"Grey…" the thing rasped.
"…called… again."
And then it shattered completely — breaking into shards of light that scattered like sparks on the wind.
Nova staggered back, watching them drift upward, vanishing into the clouds.
Called again…
His mind spun.
Was someone — something — awakening the forges again?
Were there others like this one?
Like him?
He looked down at his own hand. Lightning still danced across his skin. His veins burned with too much energy — unstable, wild. He could feel the weight of everything he'd created pressing back against him.
"Too much power…"
He exhaled, steadying himself.
"Too little time."
Then the air shifted.
A ripple — not of sound, not of wind — but of connection.
A faint warmth spread through his chest, bright and soft. It wasn't his magic.
It was hers.
"Sorra…?"
The sword hummed faintly in answer, as if recognizing the name.
And then, faintly —
as though whispered through a wall of storm —
he heard her voice.
"Nova…? Help me…"
Silvercrest Academy
The courtyard was a storm of flame and fear.
Sorra's knees hit the ground again as her magic surged beyond her control. The white fire pulsing from her skin had begun to sing — not in words, but in something deeper. A sound like a heartbeat made of light.
Students fled. Nico stood his ground, shielding her with trembling arms even as the heat seared through his sleeves.
"Sorra! Stop! You're burning yourself out!"
She could barely hear him.
Her vision blurred white-gold.
Every breath was pain.
Every thought drowned beneath a roar.
And then — she heard it.
A voice, cutting through the chaos.
"Sorra."
It wasn't the envoy.
It wasn't Nico.
It was Nova.
Her eyes widened.
"Nova…?"
The flame around her pulsed once — then bent, as though listening.
The envoy froze, watching the impossible unfold. Two different mana signatures — one at the Academy, one miles away — began to resonate.
"Impossible," they muttered. "That range—"
Sorra pressed her hand to her chest. "I can feel him… he's—"
"Still alive," Nova's voice echoed faintly in her mind,
calm despite the thunder around him.
"But I need you to focus, Sorra. Don't let the fire choose for you."
Tears burned her eyes.
"I can't— It's too strong—"
"Then make it yours."
The Storm-Worn Plains
Nova stood still in the open rain, his eyes glowing faintly crimson beneath his hood. He closed his hand, focusing through the resonance. The wind around him shifted — the faint whisper of flame brushing against his skin, even in the storm.
He could feel her panic.
Her pain.
Her strength.
"Silent Step."
He vanished, reappearing at the edge of a ravine. He didn't know how far away she was — but the connection pointed him east, toward Silvercrest.
The pulse of flame in his chest beat in rhythm with hers.
"Hold on, Sorra. I'm coming."
Lightning crackled along his blade again —
and something new burned in his eyes.
Resolve.
Silvercrest Academy
Sorra raised her hand, gripping the air as though clutching her brother's. The flame that had raged wildly now began to twist inward — folding around her in spirals of white and silver. The roar softened into a hum, like a forge cooling after long work.
The envoy watched, momentarily disarmed by the sheer control emerging from chaos.
"Impossible…" they whispered again. "No untrained mage could—"
Sorra's voice cut through the haze, low but steady.
"I'm not untrained."
Her eyes gleamed crimson in the firelight.
"My brother taught me to shape the flame — not to be consumed by it."
The envoy raised their guard again, summoning another wave of gold fire.
But this time, Sorra didn't flinch.
The air shimmered.
The ground cracked.
And behind her, for just a moment —
a shadow took shape in the fire.
Tall.
Armored.
Carrying a blade of light.
Nova's silhouette.
Their bond had crossed the impossible distance.
The Storm-Worn Plains
Nova gasped — stumbling to his knees as the feedback hit him. His hand burned with white light, the same hue as Sorra's flame.
They were linked now.
Bound.
"Guess there's no turning back anymore," he murmured.
He stood again, sword still crackling with lightning, rain turning to steam around him.
"The world wanted to erase us."
"Then we'll burn our names back into it."
He took one last breath, eyes fixed on the horizon.
And the storm moved with him.