2024-08-08 22:59:44
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Chapter 317
The vault did not calm after the surge. It only pretended to. Caster stood in the center of the ruined archive, breathing slow, his fingers still wrapped around the vial of purified Skell Essence. The glass felt warm, like skin. A faint pulse throbbed against his palm, steady and alive, as if the essence knew him and was waiting for permission to speak.Miri backed toward the wall, her face pale. Broken shelves lay around them like fallen ribs. Loose pages drifted in the air, caught in weak mana currents that refused to settle. “What was that,” she whispered.Caster did not answer at once. He was listening. The vault whispered too. Not in words, but in pressure and memory. The stones remembered every spell cast here, every fear, every hope. His hopes. His fears. “That,” he said finally, “was my past trying to kill my present.”He stepped toward the nearest desk. Half of it was burned black, but the drawers remained intact. He pulled one open. Inside were stacks of notes bound with
Chapter 316
Caster stood at the foot of the Spectral Lime complex and watched the building breathe.That was the first thing he noticed. The walls did not stay still. They pulsed, very slowly, like lungs drawing air. Pale green light ran through the stone veins, then faded, then returned again. Most people passed without seeing it. They had learned to overlook minor mistakes in Glassview.Caster did not ignore it. He pulled his coat tighter and adjusted the thin illusion sigil resting against his throat. The mana shape settled, smoothing his presence, dulling the sharp edges of his rewritten aura. To the world, he was no longer Caster Spellbound. He was Dr. Alven Cray, a minor theoretician from a forgotten outer college. Still, the building seemed to know him. “You remember me,” he whispered.The doors opened with a long sigh. Inside, the lower levels of the Lime division smelled of dust, ink, and old metal. Rows of desks stretched across the hall. Scholars bent over tablets and scrolls. Cryst
CHAPTER 315
The Twin Moons Consortium headquarters rose like a fortress carved from polished iron and cold glass. Its towers gleamed under the morning sun, but the gleam felt wrong, as if the light reflected from surfaces that were never meant to touch daylight. The entire structure seemed to hum with an artificial heartbeat, steady and relentless, echoing through the sprawling industrial district.Inside the main tower, the air smelled of metal, ozone, and pressed parchment. Everything was precise. Everything was efficient. Everything was controlled.Director Vorren stood at the center of the oval conference chamber, his hands folded behind his back. His posture was perfect, his gray uniform crisp, his expression carved from stone. He watched the holographic projections floating above the polished table, maps of ley-line routes, manifests of harvested relics, diagrams of absorbed research branches.His eyes were sharp but tired. Vorren was a man who believed in order, and the Consortium prom
CHAPTER 314
Caster moved through Glassview’s old merchant alleys with steady, controlled breaths. The night was cold, and lanterns flickered weakly along the narrow passages, throwing long shadows on the moss-covered walls. He followed the trail left by the mysterious masked woman, replaying her whisper in his mind. “Not now, Spellbound.”She had known who he was. She had intervened at the perfect moment. She had predicted the Twin Moons agent’s move before it happened. That meant she had been watching him longer than he realized. Caster adjusted his hood and stepped around a corner where the air smelled of ink, metal, and old parchment. This part of the city was quiet, almost forgotten by the main districts. Here, relic dealers kept their doors half open, their lamps dim, and their voices low.He stopped when he saw a stall glowing with soft blue light. A trader stood behind the counter, wearing a simple gray robe and a bone-white mask with indigo markings.Caster recognized her instantly. S
Chapter 313
Cold air clung to the stone arches of the underground hall as the second auction of the night began. The room was darker now, the lamps dimmed as if to hide the sins about to be traded. Caster moved among the crowd like smoke, unseen when he chose, silent when he needed. He kept the Skell Dust fragment tucked safely under his cloak. Its pulse was faint but steady, like a small heartbeat following his every step.The auctioneer, a thin man with too-bright eyes, raised his voice above the murmurs. “Tonight’s special collection,” he announced, “is dedicated to relics recovered from what the Council has officially named the Rift Incident.”Everyone leaned forward. Caster felt a jolt run through his chest. Rift Incident. So they had already given Skell a polished name to bury the truth.The auctioneer snapped his fingers, and assistants pulled black cloths from the tables one by one, revealing objects that made Caster’s breath catch.A fractured temporal gauge, still humming in broken c
Chapter 312
Rain slid down the stone steps of Glassview’s lower academic district, turning the narrow streets into glistening rivers of reflected lantern light. Caster moved quietly among the shadows, hood pulled low, illusion sigil humming faintly against his collarbone. His steps were soft, almost soundless, as he blended into the crowd of scholars, students, and night wanderers. None of them noticed him, but he noticed all of them.He listened. He had spent three nights doing only that, listening to what the world believed about him.Tonight, the whispers were especially loud. “The Spellbound heir is gone,” a young researcher murmured to her companion as they passed. “The Council confirmed it. Skell ate him.”Caster fought the urge to look at them. He kept his face pointed toward the wet ground.Her friend replied in a low voice, “I heard he came back twisted. Something less than human. Something that crawled out of the rift.”Caster’s hand trembled beneath his cloak.Eidric’s faint echo sti
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