Snow fell in silent waves over Valenreach.
The rebuilt towers gleamed faintly under the pale morning sun, smoke rising from the training yards where dozens of recruits clashed, sparred, and bled into the frozen soil.
It was no longer just a school.
It was becoming an army.
And every heartbeat in the valley carried the same unspoken question:
When will the Council come?
Selra Kaelith stood in the courtyard, watching the recruits train. Her sharp eyes followed every movement — the clash of swords, the rhythm of breathing, the unstable bursts of elemental resonance sparking across the field.
"Too rigid," she called out. "Flow with the strike, don't fight against it!"
A young recruit stumbled, his fire aura flaring too strong. Selra moved faster than the eye could follow — intercepting the outburst with a flick of her blade, redirecting the flame harmlessly into the snow.
The boy stared, wide-eyed.
"I… I thought I lost control."
"You did," she said calmly, "but control isn't perfection. It's recovery."
Across the yard, Xander watched silently. He'd been training since dawn, but his dual resonance had made even breathing dangerous — lightning and water competing under his skin like rival storms.
Renn approached, a towel slung around his neck.
"You're going to explode if you keep that up."
"Better me than the others," Xander said, smirking faintly.
"You're impossible," Renn muttered. "You know that?"
"And you're predictable," Xander replied. "That's why we make a good team."
Renn groaned. "Don't get poetic on me now."
In the war room, Mira projected reports from her holo-table. Blue light bathed the walls — maps, troop movements, and intercepted signals flickering midair.
"Eryndra's deploying scout drones north of the mountains. Three fleets stationed near the border of the Ember Nation. If they coordinate, they can reach us in less than a week."
Selra folded her arms. "So they're tightening the circle."
"Not yet attacking," Mira added. "Maybe they're waiting for proof."
Xander leaned against the wall, thoughtful.
"Or for the right reason."
Rina frowned. "They don't need a reason. They'll invent one."
Selra nodded slowly. "Then we'll give them something they can't ignore — unity."
That afternoon, Selra and Xander led advanced resonance drills — pushing recruits to their limits, but safely.
Each session focused on threshold training — the dangerous technique of balancing on the edge of exhaustion to awaken an elemental mutation.
A recruit with wind affinity gasped for air, her aura flickering erratically. Xander crouched beside her.
"Don't fight it. Let the element guide you."
Her breathing steadied, and for a moment, the air around her crystallized into diamond-like patterns — her mutation spark had ignited.
Mira watched in awe. "That's… wind crystallization. I thought it was theoretical."
Selra smiled faintly. "In theory, everything is impossible — until someone breaks."
Her words echoed deeper than she intended.
Later that night, Xander sat outside the training hall, staring at his hands. The lightning and water shimmered faintly beneath his skin — still unstable, still resisting harmony.
"I can't even find balance in myself," he whispered. "How am I supposed to lead them into war?"
Selra's voice came from behind.
"By remembering why you fight."
The call went out at dusk.
Every recruit, every instructor, every soul in Valenreach gathered in the grand courtyard.
At the center, the Oathfire blazed — a manifestation of the First Flame, pure and golden, flickering with the resonance of every element combined.
The air hummed with power.
Selra stepped forward first, her sword planted in the snow.
"When the world calls us traitors, we answer with truth."
Rina followed.
"When they strike us down, we rise stronger."
Mira placed a hand over her chest.
"When fear divides us, resonance unites."
Finally, Xander stepped to the front. His voice was steady, but his aura trembled with restrained energy.
"We are not heroes born from approval," he said.
"We are the voices that rise when silence is demanded."
He turned toward the flame.
"The system built us. Then it broke us. Now we'll rebuild the world it destroyed."
He extended his hand toward the fire. It flared — gold, blue, and silver intertwining in perfect resonance.
One by one, every recruit followed, stepping forward and pressing their palms to the ground, channeling their elements into the flame.
The courtyard glowed — a thousand colors merging, a symphony of power.
Selra smiled faintly. "The world won't forget this night."
"Good," Xander replied softly. "That's the point."
When the ritual ended, the recruits lingered — silent, united, trembling from the energy that still thrummed in their bodies.
Renn approached Xander, his usual grin returning.
"So… when do we start calling ourselves something cooler than 'recruits'?"
Rina smirked. "Like what?"
Mira smiled. "The world's already chosen the name."
Selra looked at Xander. "The Reclaimers."
Xander nodded slowly.
"Then that's what we'll be."
Above them, the Oathfire dimmed into a single steady glow — calm, alive, eternal.
And in the distance, thunder echoed across the mountains.