Leaves rustled in the cooling wind, and the last breath of sunlight bled across the horizon—molten orange melting into deep blue. Shadows stretched long and thin as the forest darkened, each step quieter than the last.
Helion wiped a hand across his brow. "We've been walking for hours now. When do we plan on taking a break?"
Zeyr didn't slow his stride. "Come on now… You're more than half my age and already complaining?"
He cast a sideways glance, smirking. "What's with these youngsters nowadays? Back in my day—"
Helion groaned, "Please don't finish that sentence."
Zeyr chuckled under his breath. "Anyway…" he muttered, brushing a branch aside. "We should be approaching a cabin shortly."
Helion raised a brow. "A cabin?"
Zeyr nodded. "Yeah. My cabin, to be exact."
Helion blinked. "Wait, you own a cabin out here? In the middle of nowhere?"
Zeyr shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "You never know when you'll need a place away from everything. Privacy has its perks."
Helion paused, then muttered to himself, "Not weird or anything".
The path dipped gently beneath their feet, stone giving way to moss-covered earth. The light was almost gone now—just enough to see the shapes of trees, just enough to feel the hush of night approaching.
Zeyr slowed his pace.
Ahead, through the mist, something began to form—vague at first, like a trick of the eyes. But as they moved forward, the silhouette of a cabin emerged out of thin air, its dark wooden frame steady and clean, almost unnaturally so.
Helion squinted at it.
"Uhhh… that definitely wasn't there before."
Zeyr let out a laugh, rare and full. "Of course not."
He reached into his coat and held up a crystal—cut like a diamond, its surface etched with an old rune that shimmered faintly in the dusk.
"This place is cloaked," Zeyr explained, holding the crystal higher. "Tied to this catalyst. You need the other half of the rune for the home to appear. Otherwise—" he waved a hand toward the structure, "—it's completely invisible."
As he raised the crystal, a second rune pulsed to life above the door of the cabin—matching the one in his hand. A brief glow, and then the cabin stood fully revealed, nestled in its clearing like it had always been there.
Helion's jaw dropped slightly. "That's… so cool. Like, really cool. How did you even do that?"
Zeyr walked forward without missing a step. "Not all flashy things are done with elemental spirits."
He glanced back, his voice calm but laced with something almost instructional. "There are mages in this kingdom. Gifted ones. Old magic. Runes, cloaks, enchantments—they've trained their minds the same way swordsmen train their bodies."
"One of them," he added, pushing the door open, "is even a Captain."
Helion blinked, baffled. "Wait—what? But I thought magic like that… I mean, if it's not tied to a spirit or a soulform, it can't really compete, right?"
Zeyr looked over his shoulder, stepping through the threshold. His expression had shifted—slightly more serious now.
"You're right… to a degree. Most mages can't keep up with soulbound users in battle."
"But," he continued, "there are exceptions. Some wield magic so refined, so ancient, they don't need a soulform. Their craft is their strength."
Helion followed, still thinking about the invisible home, the catalyst rune, the ancient magic…
"So, wait," he said, processing, "those mages—what do you call them again?"
Zeyr's voice came casually. "Arcane Mages."
Helion narrowed his eyes. "Arcane? I've heard the term tossed around in old books, but I thought that was just theory."
"Most people do," Zeyr said, stepping toward the front porch. "But it's real. Rare… and powerful. Only one Arcane Mage has ever reached the rank of Captain."
He paused, eyes glinting slightly.
"Axel Nova. The Third Arch Captain."
Helion's brows lifted. "A mage… who outranked most warriors?"
Zeyr smirked. "His magic wasn't flashy. It was fearsome."
But before Zeyr could say more, a crack of air burst through the silence.
From the cabin window—a blazing silhouette launched skyward. Wings of fire, trailing embers. A majestic, phoenix-like creature streaked through the darkening sky.
Helion gasped. "What the—?!"
The creature soared in a wide arc, then dove straight for Zeyr like a fireball falling from heaven.
"Zeyr!" Helion shouted.
BOOM!
An explosion of light and heat erupted around the Arch Captain, shaking the trees and scattering glowing ash across the clearing.
Smoke rolled from the blast zone—then laughter rang through it.
Zeyr's voice, unshaken… joyful.
Helion blinked, watching through the haze.
And there stood Zeyr—arm outstretched, flames licking harmlessly across his coat—grinning like a lunatic.
Perched proudly on his arm, its wings still flickering with golden-red fire… was the phoenix.
"You got big," Zeyr chuckled, voice warm with familiarity. "Linx."
The creature let out a low, melodic cry, its body glowing with pulsing hues of red, gold, and amethyst. Its feathers shimmered like forged crystal, and the heat rolling off it was intense—but not painful.
Zeyr turned toward Helion, still laughing, eyes gleaming.
"This is Linx. My partner—and full-time resident of this cabin."
Helion, still catching his breath, scratched his head and stared. "Resident?"
He stepped back slightly, watching the mythical creature tilt its head.
"That thing is mystical. What do you mean, partner? You live with a legendary firebird like it's your cat or something?!"
Zeyr only grinned wider. "He's more than fire. More than magic. He's… complicated."
Linx let out another low cry—this time softer, calmer—and nudged Zeyr's cheek with its beak before settling on a perch that seemingly hadn't been there a moment ago.
Helion was still wide-eyed. "Okay… yeah. This journey keeps getting weirder."
Zeyr pushed open the door, and the warm glow of lanternlight spilled into the clearing. As they stepped in, Helion blinked in surprise.
The interior was… immaculate.
Polished wood floors. Shelves neatly lined with scrolls, old books, and odd metallic instruments. Strange glass tubes filled with glowing liquid hummed softly from a table near the wall. Everything was clean, organized—even peaceful.
Helion blinked. How the hell is this place cleaner than his actual house?
Zeyr dropped his satchel onto a padded bench and cracked his back with a groan. "That's because this place practically runs itself."
He gestured around. "The cabin's enchanted. Cleans, restores, even regulates the temperature. A gift… from an old friend in another kingdom. Arcane stuff."
Helion wandered toward the tubes, peering into the glowing liquid. "This looks like alchemy."
Zeyr shrugged. "Some of it is. Some of it… not even I understand."
Above them, Linx flared his wings once before gliding up to the rafters. With a quiet trill, he perched on a curved iron ring near the ceiling—clearly his usual spot.
Zeyr yawned and stretched. "Alright, enough gawking. Get some rest. We leave early."
Helion turned. "Where exactly are we headed again?"
Zeyr's voice came from behind a half-opened door. "North. Few hours through the ridge path. That dragon cave won't wait forever."
Helion exhaled, glancing back at the still-glowing runes by the window.
He didn't know what tomorrow held.
Helion sat on the edge of the small cot in the cabin's guest room, rustling through his pack. His gloves, a few wraps, the cracked training sword—none of it needed organizing, but his hands needed something to do.
It's been a while, he thought. Since I had those… visions.
He paused, staring at the floor.
The last one—the warrior surrounded by fire and shadow. That strange place… That pressure. I still don't know what it meant. And I never brought it up to Zeyr.
He leaned back against the wall, arms behind his head.
Maybe I should ask him tomorrow.
I've been so focused—spirit training, sword forms, the Royal Draft… I almost forgot they ever happened. But it's strange. They stopped completely after that last one.
His brow furrowed.
What even were they? Glimpses? Dreams? Echoes of something else?
And those other versions of me—the ones I saw in the flame, the mirror—are they gone now?
The room was still, lit only by the faint flicker of runes woven into the corners of the ceiling. Linx's quiet breathing echoed from the rafters outside.
Helion let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair.
"Whatever it was," he whispered to himself, "it changed something."
He yawned, the weight of the day catching up to him.
"I should get some rest… If I want to keep up with Zeyr tomorrow."
He chuckled softly, pulling the thin blanket over his chest.
Guy's twice my age and still walks like he's chasing a battlefield.
The lantern dimmed with a pulse of rune-light.
And sleep came slowly, carrying him into silence.
Helion squirmed beneath the covers, twisting side to side with a groggy groan.
"Aghhh…"
He blinked against the light—bright, blinding light.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What the—?"
Then he froze.
His jaw dropped.
The ceiling was… gone.
Or so it seemed.
Above him stretched nothing but pure, radiant sky. No rafters, no beams—just open blue, streaked with soft morning clouds.
"Okaaaay… what's going on here—?"
Just then, the door creaked open.
Zeyr leaned casually against the frame, rubbing the back of his head and squinting into the light. "Could you be any louder?"
Helion pointed upward, incredulous. "The roof is gone!"
Zeyr blinked, then gave a sheepish shrug. "Oh. Right. That."
He stepped further in, grinning. "Must've slipped my mind."
Helion stared. "You forgot to mention your house is missing a roof?!"
Zeyr held up a hand. "Relax. It's still there—just not how you're thinking."
He tapped the wall with a knuckle. A faint ripple shimmered through the air above, like a mirage made of glass.
"The ceiling's enchanted. Every morning, it turns fully transparent to let in natural light. Nothing can get through—rain, bugs, magic, whatever. Just the sun."
He smirked. "Natural alarm clock. And bonus: free vitamin D."
Helion flopped back onto the mattress with a groan. "This place is insane…"
Zeyr laughed. "Get dressed. We've got a long trek north."
He turned, then called over his shoulder, "And hey—be grateful. Most people wake up to screaming roosters."
Linx soared gracefully through the transparent ceiling, circling once above the cabin before settling into a warm drift on the rising morning breeze. The sun kissed his gleaming feathers, casting streaks of firelight across the room.
Zeyr pointed upward, grinning. "See? Linx appreciates the morning light."
Helion stood groggily by the doorway, eyes half-shut. "Well, good for him…" he muttered. "Alright—I'm ready."
Zeyr gave him a once-over and snorted. "You look like crap. Shouldn't have stayed up late talking to your ceiling."
Helion rolled his eyes. "I was thinking. There's a difference."
"Thinking doesn't make you snore like a dying wolf," Zeyr teased, strapping on his travel gear. "Let's move."
The sun climbed higher, casting long rays through the trees as noon crept over their journey. The trail narrowed, winding up a steep ridge blanketed in moss and roots. A cool wind drifted between the trees, carrying a quiet, ancient hush.
Zeyr inhaled deeply. "This place always had a certain charm…"
They climbed higher until the forest parted—and then they saw it.
A cave.
But not like any Helion had ever seen.
It hung from a stone outcrop above them—an inverted maw clinging to the underside of a cliff, like the world had flipped itself upside down.
"What the hell?" Helion blinked, shielding his eyes from the glare. "It's… upside down. How are we supposed to get up there?"
Zeyr didn't even pause.
"What do you mean?" he said casually. "We jump."
He crouched low, mana surging to his legs in glowing pulses.
Before Helion could protest, Zeyr shot upward with a booming launch, his figure vanishing in a blur of force and dust.
"Wait—WHAT?! You didn't teach me that yet!" Helion shouted after him.
Zeyr's voice echoed down from above, fading slightly as he rose, "Concentrate your mana in your legs—and release it when you jump!"
Helion groaned. "Easy for you to say… you can probably walk on clouds."
Still, he planted his feet firmly, shutting his eyes. He focused, imagining all the mana in his body pooling into his legs like molten energy.
He jumped.
Nothing.
A weak hop and a puff of dust.
"Wrong!" Zeyr called from above. "You're charging it—but not releasing it at the jump! Push off when the energies at its peak!"
Helion grit his teeth. "Alright… one more time."
He took a breath, visualized the mana coiling tight in his calves, and—
BOOM.
He launched.
Wind ripped past his face as the ground blurred beneath him. His heart soared—equal parts shock and thrill.
"There you go!" Zeyr called from the rocky ledge above, arms crossed, watching him rise.
Helion whooped, eyes wide. "No way… this is awesome!"
He caught the edge and hoisted himself up, landing beside Zeyr.
Catching his breath, he laughed to himself. "This must be the same technique Syrus used when he rushed to the castle… right after he saved me."
Zeyr nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "More or less."
Helion stood, gazing at the mouth of the inverted cave—its edges faintly glowing, as if it were waiting.
"Let's hope I don't need to jump any higher than that."
Zeyr smirked. "Don't make promises the mountain might want you to break."
As they stepped into the cave, the air shifted instantly.
Helion's breath caught in his throat.
The temperature dropped—not cold, but dense. Heavy. Like the very air was soaked in energy. The light from outside faded quickly behind them, swallowed by a pulsing blue hue that seemed to rise from the very stone.
A pressure pressed down on Helion's chest, not crushing, but constant—like he'd walked into the center of a storm made of mana.
He staggered a bit. "Zeyr… do you feel that?"
Zeyr stepped beside him, eyes narrowing as he scanned the glowing cave walls. "Yeah," he said, voice lower now. "I feel it."
He placed a hand against the stone. It vibrated slightly beneath his touch.
"That," he continued, "is the pressure of spirits. This cave is rich with them. Alive. Dormant. Watching. Most likely drawn here by the concentrated mana."
Helion stared deeper into the cave's twisting path—where soft lights shimmered in the air like floating embers.
Zeyr added, "Spend a few years here… and you'd become formidable. If you survived."
Helion edged a little closer to him.
"Yeah… let's not explore anything I'm not ready for," he muttered, eyes darting.
Zeyr cracked a grin, though his tone remained measured. "Smart choice."
The walls hummed gently, as if the cave itself were alive, listening.
As they moved deeper into the glowing cavern, the light dimmed, and the ambient hum of mana shifted—growing colder, sharper.
Unseen eyes watched from the corners where the cave narrowed into shadow.
Something… moved.