The wind in Valenreach was colder now.
Not because of the snow, but because of what came after it — silence that felt too heavy, too aware.
The First Flame beneath the academy no longer slept quietly.
Every night, faint whispers rose through the vents — soft, fractured voices carried by resonance. Sometimes they sounded like words. Sometimes like warnings.
And every night, Xander heard them.
He stood in the underground chamber alone, the golden sphere flickering faintly in front of him.
The air pulsed with energy that pressed against his chest like a heartbeat.
He closed his eyes and focused, trying to control the surge of resonance inside him. But every time he drew in power, both of his elements responded — lightning and water, colliding and blending in unpredictable patterns.
The chamber lights flickered, and his reflection appeared in the glass — eyes glowing faintly blue and silver.
"Harmony… not dominance," he whispered, repeating the old inscription.
But the energy didn't listen. It pushed back — alive, willful, and vast.
The floor cracked beneath him, resonance spiraling upward before he finally cut the connection, falling to one knee.
Steam hissed from the ground.
Mira's voice echoed from the door.
"You're losing control again."
"Just… testing limits."
She crossed her arms. "Limits aren't meant to be flirted with, Xander. The mutations—"
"I know."
She hesitated, then said softly,
"You're carrying too much. The academy, the recruits, Selra's situation… and now this."
He looked at the flickering flame.
"If I can't control it, how can I lead them?"
Far to the south, in Eryndra's capital, Selra Kaelith stood before the Council again — this time as a suspect.
"You defended a traitor," Dren said coldly. "Explain yourself."
Her expression was unreadable. "I defended civilians caught in an unstable resonance incident."
"Civilians rebuilding a forbidden academy?"
"Valenreach wasn't forbidden," she countered. "You just forgot why it was built."
The room went silent.
Dren leaned forward. "You're letting sentiment cloud judgment. You taught him once — now you're betraying your post."
Selra's hand brushed the hilt of her sword. For a moment, the runes along it glowed faintly, responding to her heartbeat.
"Maybe judgment isn't the problem," she said. "Maybe obedience is."
The Council murmured. Dren slammed his hand on the table.
"You're relieved of command, Captain Kaelith. Hand over your weapon."
Selra's eyes didn't waver.
"This sword was given to me by the old heroes. It doesn't belong to the Council."
And without another word, she turned and walked out — calm, but burning inside.
That night, in Valenreach, Xander sat near the First Flame again, meditating.
The whispers grew louder — clearer.
"Unity… broken…"
"Balance lost…"
"The bearer of two… must restore the one…"
He opened his eyes. "Who are you?"
The flame pulsed once, then formed a faint figure — a ghostly silhouette of armor and flowing robes.
An ancient hero.
"We built this flame to guide, not to rule," the voice said. "But mankind used it to dominate. Now the balance is gone. Restore it… or it will consume you."
"Consume me?"
"Two elements cannot coexist forever. One must learn harmony… or extinction."
The vision faded, leaving him in darkness.
He stared at his hands, trembling.
Lightning and water flickered again — chaotic, unstable.
"Harmony… or extinction," he whispered.
Selra found herself at the edge of Eryndra's southern gate, her crimson cloak torn and burned.
She'd fought her way out — not against enemies, but against hesitation.
Her transport glided through the snow toward the mountains. The wind howled around her, but her mind was clearer than ever.
"They called you a traitor, Xander," she murmured. "Maybe they were right about both of us."
She looked at her sword. The runes had changed — no longer blue, but faintly gold. Resonating.
"Then let's make traitors mean something."
Back at Valenreach, tensions ran high.
The recruits whispered rumors of an impending attack; others questioned whether the Council's silence meant peace or punishment.
Renn confronted Xander during training.
"You're not sleeping, not eating, and every time you touch that flame, it nearly kills you. What's going on?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
"You're starting to sound like them," Renn shot back. "The same people you're trying to replace."
The words stung.
Xander turned away, fists clenched.
Rina stepped between them. "Enough. He's doing what he can."
"And what happens when he burns out?" Renn snapped. "Who leads us then?"
The silence that followed was heavier than any shout.
Finally, Xander said quietly,
"Then you will."
Renn froze, the anger in his eyes fading into guilt.
"We're not soldiers anymore," Xander continued. "We're all just trying to learn what being human means again."
As night fell, a storm rolled over the mountains — thunder rumbling through the valley.
Mira's sensors picked up movement along the southern pass.
She rushed to Xander's quarters.
"Someone's coming. Alone."
They ran to the gates, lightning illuminating the snow in flashes of blue-white light.
And there she was — Selra Kaelith, cloak shredded, eyes determined, sword glowing gold.
Rina raised her weapon. "Wait— that's—"
"I know," Xander said softly.
Selra stopped a few meters away, meeting his gaze through the storm.
"The Council knows everything now. They'll come with armies next time."
"You shouldn't have come back," he said.
"I didn't come to hide," she replied. "I came to stand."
The storm cracked above them, lightning striking the cliffs in the distance.
Their resonance pulsed — hers gold and azure, his blue and silver — and for the first time, they didn't clash.
They harmonized.
The flame beneath the academy flared, brighter than ever.