Chapter Two: Sync or Shatter
Part One – The Lesson You Don't Cast
Location: Veilmark Chamber, Lower Resonance Grid
Yolti's light glyph had begun to shimmer even when she stood still.
Not when she was scared. Not when she was calm. Just… whenever someone else's voice drifted too close to truth.
She didn't know what to do with it.
And Kaelen didn't know how to stop burning when he was still.
Across the chamber, the fire on his halberd flared even though he hadn't pulled his pulse thread. The Veilmark on his shoulder twitched, almost like it was reacting to the argument he wasn't having.
"Stop forcing it," Buta said, voice calm, but loaded. "You're not casting. You're leaking."
Kaelen ground his teeth. "I'm trying."
"That's the problem."
Buta stepped down from the stone terrace that overlooked the chamber, his coat dragging faint dust lines across the pulse-etched floor.
"You think this is about rage. You think power comes from pain. That's not a Veilmark. That's Doctrine propaganda."
He turned.
"Cast from that and it'll kill you before it listens."
—
Zephryn and Selka watched from the far edge. They hadn't said a word since returning from the waterfall.
But their glyphs…
…weren't still.
They hovered near their skin. Slight. Faint. But alive.
Bubbalor perched in the rafters above, completely silent. Not even a flutter.
Even he knew something had changed.
Yolti raised her hand. "Then what does it come from?"
Buta's gaze softened—but not his stance.
"It comes from sync."
"Sync with what?"
"Yourself. Your hum. Your memory. The people next to you when the world forgets you."
He turned to Zephryn.
"You remember when the glyph flared before you cast?"
Zephryn nodded.
"That wasn't power. That was resonance remembering its echo."
He paced slowly across the glyph lines.
"Every Veilmark is a mirror. And most of you keep punching it, hoping it'll show you something different."
Kaelen looked down.
His flames dimmed.
Selka finally spoke.
"Then how do we align it?"
Buta stopped.
And smiled. Just barely.
"You listen."
—
The chamber went quiet.
And in that quiet, Yolti's hand began to glow again—not with fear, but with warmth. Not cast light. Reflective.
From Selka.
From Kaelen.
From Zephryn.
The Veilmark field began to hum—not loudly. Not violently.
But together.
Just once.
Just enough.