They moved before dawn.
Now, hours later, they were making better time than Nova had thought possible. The hover-trucks pushed their engines to the limit, skimming above the rough terrain at speeds that would have been suicidal at night. But dawn had broken, painting the Ferrowood in shades of gold and green, and with light came relative safety.
Most Abyss creatures hated the sun.
Most, Nova thought. Not all.
He sat in the lead truck's cabin, Vex beside him and Riya in the back. The letter was spread across his knees, its words burned into his memory.
"They're being directed," he said quietly. "Controlled. Someone's herding the creatures toward specific targets."
Vex's jaw tightened. "You don't know that. One dying man's ravings—"
"The myriad demon didn't attack randomly." Nova's voice was flat. "It positioned itself where it could see the whole battle. It directed the other creatures with precision. That's not natural behavior. That's command."
"Could be a higher demon. A mind flayer, like you said."
"Mind flayers direct for feeding. They herd prey toward ambush points, then consume. But that attack wasn't about feeding—it was about killing. Every creature that broke through our lines went for the guards' throats, not their flesh."
Vex was silent for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral.
"You know a lot about demon behavior for a village kid."
Nova didn't answer.
Vex, to her credit, seemed to understand. She nodded once, sharply, and turned her attention back to the road.
"Two more days," she said. "If we maintain this speed, we'll reach the capital before nightfall on the second day. The Ferrowood ends at the Great Eastern Plain—open ground, patrols from the military, actual civilization. We'll be safe there."
Safe, Nova thought. Now there's a word I don't believe in anymore.
They stopped at midday to refuel and stretch.
The trucks needed charging—their anti-grav systems drained power continuously, and the run through the Ferrowood had pushed them to their limits. Vex had planned for this, bringing portable mana converters that could draw ambient energy from the air and convert it to usable power. But the process was slow, and every minute they sat still was a minute something could find them.
Nova used the time to practice.
He found a clearing a short distance from the caravan, close enough to hear if trouble came, far enough to avoid curious eyes. His teleportation had improved since the battle—necessity was a brutal teacher—but he needed to understand its limits.
Fifty-two feet, he thought. That's my maximum range. But is it my only range?
He focused on a tree thirty feet away. Visualized the space around it, the way it existed in relation to him. Then he reached out with his power and pulled.
Nothing happened.
He tried again, this time pushing himself toward the tree rather than pulling it toward him. The world blurred, and suddenly he was standing where the tree's shadow had been, thirty feet from his starting point.
So I can move myself or I can move objects. But I can't move both at once unless they're touching me. And the further I go, the more it costs.
He checked his mana: 148 units. The teleport had cost ten—baseline for self-movement at this range.
Ten for thirty feet. Fifty-two feet costs the same ten. So range doesn't affect cost—distance is irrelevant. But moving others...
He found a rock, about fifty pounds, and tried to teleport it to his hand. The rock vanished from its position and reappeared floating a foot above his palm—then dropped, narrowly missing his foot.
Fifteen units. And I can't control orientation. Good to know.
He spent the next hour experimenting. By the end, he had mapped his limits with reasonable precision:
Self-teleport: 10 units, up to 52 feet
Object teleport: 15 units per 50 pounds, same range
Person teleport: 15 units per person (willing or unwilling), same range
Simultaneous: Can teleport self plus one person or 50 pounds of cargo for 20 units
Precision: Can land within approximately six inches of target location
Cooldown: Approximately three seconds between teleports (limited by mental processing, not mana)
Not bad for a week of practice, he thought. By the time I reach 2nd Order, I should be able to—
"Kid."
He turned. Riya stood at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Vex says we're moving in five. Also—" She hesitated. "That thing you did in the battle. Finding the real myriad. How did you do that?"
Nova considered lying. Considered deflecting. But Riya had fought beside him, had nearly died beside him. She deserved something approaching honesty.
"I used to study them," he said. "In books. Old texts. Their behavior patterns, their weaknesses. When I saw the copies, I remembered that the real one always watches from somewhere it can see everything."
Riya studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
"Damn" She turned away. "Men I'm glad you're on our side."
She walked back toward the caravan.
Nova watched her go, then followed.
The second night, they made camp at the edge of the Ferrowood.
The trees thinned here, giving way to rolling grassland that stretched toward the distant glow of the capital's lights. Another day of travel, maybe less, and they would be within the city's defensive perimeter. Within safety.
Nova didn't trust it.
He sat apart from the others, Nora's journal open on his knee, reading by the light of his interface. The entries near the end were different—less technical, more personal. More desperate.
I dream about them sometimes. The ten thousand. They come to me in sleep, their faces frozen in the moment I took their souls. Some of them were soldiers. Some were criminals. Some were just... people. People who happened to be in the wrong place when I needed fuel for the fire.
I don't regret it. I can't afford to regret it. But I remember.
I remember a child. A girl, maybe eight years old, with her mother's eyes. She was running from something—I never learned what. And I took her because she was there, because I needed one more soul to complete the count, because my brother was dying and ten thousand was the number and nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine wasn't enough.
I remember the way she looked at me when she realized what was happening. Not afraid. Just... confused. Like she couldn't understand why someone would do this to her.
I couldn't either. But I did it anyway.
If you're reading this, Nova—my Nova, the one who carries my brother's soul—know that I am a monster. Know that I did monstrous things. Know that I would do them again, a thousand times over, if it meant you existed.
But also know that I carry them with me. Every one. Every face. Every confused, frightened, dying soul.
I am their weight. And I will carry them until the universe finally decides to let me rest.
Nova closed the journal.
His hands were shaking.
Ten thousand souls. A child of eight. Confused, not afraid.
He wanted to hate her for it. Wanted to feel the righteous anger that should come from learning that his existence was bought with innocent blood.
But all he felt was gratitude—and beneath that, a terrible, aching sorrow for the sister he had never met, who had sacrificed everything, including her humanity, to give him a second chance.
I'll find you, he promised silently. When I'm strong enough. When I'm whole. I'll find you, and I'll tell you that it wasn't for nothing. That I'm worth it. That I'll become someone worthy of the price you paid.
The wind carried no answer.
But somewhere in the darkness, the lights of the capital gleamed like distant stars, and Nova allowed himself to hope.
Dawn came cold and clear.
The caravan packed quickly, eager to leave the Ferrowood behind. Nova took his position in the lead truck, watching as the last trees fell away and the Great Eastern Plain opened before them.
Grasslands stretched to the horizon, broken only by the occasional farmstead or patrol tower. The sky was vast here, impossibly large after days beneath the forest canopy. And ahead, visible even in the morning light, the capital rose like a dream made steel and glass.
Sky Tower Academy dominated the skyline—a spire of crystal and metal that pierced the clouds, its upper reaches lost in the haze of altitude. Around it, the city sprawled in concentric rings, each one newer than the last, spreading outward as Earth's population had exploded after the Great Awakening.
"There it is," Vex said quietly. "The goal of every Awakened on the continent. They say only the best get in. Only the strongest. Only the ones destined for greatness."
Nova stared at the tower.
Somewhere in that building, his future waited.
"Vex," he said. "Thank you. For taking me on. For not asking too many questions."
Vex glanced at him, her expression unreadable. Then she reached over and ruffled his hair—a gesture so unexpectedly maternal that he froze.
"Just get there, kid. Get there and become whatever you're meant to become. That's thanks enough."
The caravan rolled on toward the capital, toward the tower, toward the future.
And Nova Almond, fourteen years old and carrying the weight of ten thousand souls, allowed himself to smile.
The gates of the capital rose before them as the sun reached its zenith.
Massive constructs of reinforced alloy, they stood open during daylight hours, flanked by guards in military uniforms who scanned each incoming traveler with practiced efficiency. The guards were Awakened—Nova could sense their mana, feel the weight of their cultivation. 3rd Order, most of them. Maybe higher for the officers.
This is what real power looks like, he thought. Not village elders with F-rank abilities. Actual cultivators, trained and equipped and ready for war.
The caravan slowed to a halt before the checkpoint. Vex jumped down from the truck, approaching the guards with the easy confidence of someone who had done this a hundred times.
"Vex Harrington, Silver Road Trading. Caravan from Northvale, cargo for the central markets, passengers for the academy and elsewhere. Manifests are uploaded to the city system."
The lead guard—a woman with cropped hair and eyes that missed nothing—scanned a data slate, then nodded.
"Clear. Standard inspection fee applies—two silver per vehicle, payable at the inner gate." Her eyes swept over the caravan, landing briefly on Nova. "New blood for the academy?"
"Maybe," Vex said carefully. "Kid's got potential."
The guard studied Nova for a long moment. Then she smiled—a thin, professional expression that didn't reach her eyes.
"Lot of potential comes through these gates. Most of it doesn't leave." She stepped aside. "Welcome to the capital. Try not to die before classes start."
The caravan rolled forward.
Nova looked back once at the guard, at her knowing smile, at the way she watched him with something that might have been recognition or might have been simple assessment.
Then the gates closed behind them, and he was inside.
The city swallowed him whole.