"Because, in the future, you might turn into Blighted," Bertran said evenly,
Neither spoke. Alain only stared, mouth open.
Bertran continued, voice calm but sure.
"Whether you like it or not, you both got off easy with your Revelations. If you both stay untrained, in the case of another one happening, you might not get off so lucky."
Lia hesitated, "Wh...what was supposed to happen then?"
Ceres sighed and adjusted his glasses. "Right, you barely know how this world works."
"So I'll explain slowly, before the Duke interrupts with metaphors."
Bertran smiled faintly, "I'll try my best not to."
Ceres pinched his nose bridge, "Ha.... Where do I even start?"
Ceres reached into his pocket and pulled out a wand. Using the tip, he drew a mark in the familiar shape of < - Kenaz.
"Runes," he began, "are not spells. They're not even magic, just words."
Alain frowned. "Words?"
"Concepts," Ceres corrected. "They define the world. Every Rune is a fragment of the language used to shape reality, what we call the Language of Creation. When the first mages carved them, they weren't casting; they were describing existence."
Ceres turned back to them, "Now that you understand what Runes are, let's talk about how they differ."
"Runes are divided into Concept Grades. Ranked not by power, but by complexity. It's not about how strong they are. It's about how hard they are to understand."
"Grade One Rune, or what we call an Elemental. Tangible, measurable forces. They describe what exists."
"Grade Two Runes, the Abstracts. These are rarer—they don't describe things, they describe intangibles. That's harder to grasp and comprehend.
Lia's eyes brightened slightly. "That's what ours are?"
Ceres nodded. "Exactly. Yours are Abstracts. Eihwaz, the concept of Endurance, and Gebo, the concept of Exchange."
"Then," he said, "come the Grade Three Runes—the Primordials."
"They are simply supernatural forces, the truths the first Runes were built on."
Lia tilted her head. "Forces? Like what?"
Ceres listed them quietly. "Time. Space. Death. Life, et cetera. The Primordials don't obey anyone. They're barely contained even by the people who hold them."
Alain frowned. "People actually use those?"
Ceres shook his head slowly. "Not anymore. No one alive carries them, at least. They existed in the past, legends from centuries ago."
Alain frowned. "So they were all destroyed?"
"Or transcended," Ceres said quietly. "When you reach too deep into understanding, you stop being something the world recognizes. You dissolve into the meaning you tried to master."
"Which brings me nicely into Insight Levels. How much you understand your Rune."
Lia leaned forward slightly. "Insight?"
Ceres nodded. "Every Rune is alive in its own way. It responds to how deeply you grasp its meaning. How much of its truth you've made your own."
"Nine stages, from the first whisper to complete unity."
"To reach each stage, a caster undergoes what's called a Revelation," Ceres said, his voice dipping slightly lower.
"For Elemental Runes, the process is predictable—controlled even. Most people already know what to expect: a test of endurance, focus, or harmony with the element itself. Entire manuals have been written about what fire, water, or earth demand from their wielders."
He adjusted his sleeve, the faint hum of his rune pen flickering in his fingers.
"But Abstract Runes are different. No one knows what form they'll take. Each Revelation is personal, shaped by the owner's emotions, flaws, and fears. For Abstract Revelations, no two people ever see the same thing."
Lia's brow furrowed slightly. "So ours…?"
"—Were unique," Ceres said. "That's what makes Abstract bearers dangerous, and irreplaceable."
"Which brings me all the way to the main topic of our conversation, Blighted."
He paused, the pen still in his hand, "Revelations aren't merciful. When someone fails theirs, the Rune doesn't let go. It forces them to try again."
Alain frowned, "Again?"
"And again," Ceres said quietly. "Each attempt strips a little more of who they are. Most don't survive it. The ones who do… aren't really people anymore."
The room went still. Even Lia, who had been leaning forward with curiosity, drew back slightly.
"So that's how..." Alain muttered.
Bertran's voice came low from where he stood by the window. "That's partly why Aesir Academy exists. To guide those like you from suffering such a tragedy."
"On the contrary, you survived the Echo, the first stage. Most Abstract owners never even reach that far. It means you're compatible," Bertran smiled faintly.
Ceres closed his notebook with a soft thump. "The rest, you'll learn at the Academy."
Alain's eyes narrowed. "Right, and how are you related to the Academy?"
"I study everything related to Runes there, and occasionally teach it." Ceres continued, slipping his notebook back into his coat. "Which reminds me. You two still have to register yours."
Lia blinked. "You mean…through the Authority?"
Ceres shook his head. "No. You're not registered with them, and I intend to keep it that way. The Authority's too nosy and too stupid to trust with your kind of Runes."
Alain frowned. "Then who handles it?"
"The Guild," Ceres said simply. "You've heard of them, surely?"
Lia tilted her head. "So they do registration too?"
"Of course," Ceres replied. "Every ether-capable adventurer, scholar, and mercenary who's not a noble gets their license from the Guild."
"Aren't they an independent organization? How is that possible?" Alain asked.
"Mmm, normally you'd need more. However, for the purposes of your enrollment, it's enough." Bertran said, standing up.
Bertran straightened, his tone firm. "Here's the plan. You'll travel with Ceres to Elliot, the capital of Finn. You'll register your marks there through the Guild's Rune Bureau."
"Then proceed directly to the Aesir Academy. House Finn will sponsor you both."
Lia nodded quietly. Alain only crossed his arms.
"Three steps," Bertran continued. "Register. Test. Enroll. Don't make me regret the paperwork."
Ceres gave a half-smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Bertran looked between them one last time. "Three days."
With that, he turned and left, the echo of his boots fading down the corridor.
Silence lingered a moment before Ceres sighed and followed.
When the door closed, the room finally went quiet.
...
Alain sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floorboards. "Three days," he muttered. "That's… soon."
Lia turned toward him. "You sound worried."
"I am," he said. "Everything's moving so fast. Yesterday, I was patching a gutter, and today I learned that we both might turn into horrific monsters."
"It's better than staying in Brann forever," Lia joked, giving a small smile.
"Maybe," Alain said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It just doesn't feel real yet. I keep thinking I'll wake up back home."
Lia sat beside him. "Then I'll remind you it's real when we get there."
He looked at her, a small, uncertain grin forming. "You promise?"
"Yeah," she said softly. "I promise."
...
She hesitated, studying him. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you? The Hearth."
He exhaled through his nose, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Sometimes I just feel like it would've been better to go back and fix gutters again."
Lia laughed under her breath. "You say that now, but I remember you cursing every time the ladder slipped."
"Yeah," he said, smiling faintly. "Guess it was easier to know what needed fixing."
Lia nodded, letting the silence stretch for a while
Then her voice softened. "...Do you? You know… want to go back?"
Alain hesitated. "It was small, but it made sense."
"And now?" she asked.
He looked down at his hands, then back at her. "Now we've got a chance to move forward. To see more."
"To be honest, I've seen more in the last 2 days than I ever have in the last 2 years," he smiled wryly. "It's...great."
"Then what's bothering you?"
"That it's all changing too fast," he admitted. "I just don't want to lose my roots, that's all."
Lia smiled faintly. "Then don't. We'll take it with us."
He let out a small laugh. "What does that even mean?"
Lia smirked. "It means stop overthinking, just go with the flow!"
"That sounds dangerous."
"It'll be fine," she said, bumping his shoulder lightly. "You worry too much."
"You of all people can't be saying that."
"Okay then… we can just worry for each other. Makes it simple, right?"
"Right," Alain nodded, a faint smile on his face.
Lia grinned, leaning back against the wall. "Don't worry, I'll still be your friend even if you turn into a horrific monster."
"Hey!" Alain sat up immediately.
Outside, dusk was starting to touch the window frame, thin and gold. The world was changing fast, but at least they'll have each other to weather the storm.