The following morning, Lyle woke up before the sun.
The ring on his hand burned—not with heat, but with urgency.
He looked at it, still unsure whether he trusted it.
Still unsure whether he chose it.
But the pulse was undeniable.
And this time, the Codex responded:
> [Foreign Spatial Signature Detected]
Temporal anchor fluctuating. Dimensional passagepoint forming nearby.
Location: Subterranean Archive Chamber – Tier IV Access Required.
He wasn't supposed to be able to access that level.
But the Codex didn't seem to care about permissions anymore.
---
Juno was already awake when he slipped out.
She watched from the barracks rooftop, silent, arms crossed.
And let him go.
---
The Subterranean Archives were a relic beneath the Academy—sealed off after the Seal was first cast, long before Lyle's time. Most cadets didn't even know the lower levels existed.
He did.
Barely.
The Codex had once flickered about them in his early days.
But now, the ring guided his steps like a magnet drawn to metal.
The elevator refused his clearance code.
So the ring flickered once, and the lock disarmed itself.
"Okay…" he muttered, stepping into the dark.
---
The Archive was dust and shadow.
Walls lined with etched bone scripts.
No mana lights.
No movement.
No hum of active glyphs.
But still—Lyle felt the pull.
It led him past the old sigil tombs, deeper than he knew the chamber ran.
Until he reached a wall that wasn't a wall.
It was a door.
Hidden in plain sight.
A perfect circular seam with no handle.
Just a glyph burned into the center.
Not human.
Not Codex-based.
Not even magic as he understood it.
But when the ring touched the door—
> [Signature Confirmed: Q.T.G.]
Access Granted.
Welcome, Designated Traveler.
First Mark Activated – 5 days until gate opens.
The seam shuddered open, and the wall pulled inward to reveal—
A small chamber lit by bloodlight crystals, humming with energy that made his teeth itch.
And in the center…
A sigil carved into obsidian:
A crescent blade.
Two fangs.
A ring at the heart.
---
> [First Anchor to the Blood World Activated.]
Dimensional travel coordinates stabilized.
Gate progress: 19%.
Lyle stepped forward, hand brushing the obsidian.
And a voice not his own whispered in the back of his mind:
> "You are not one of mine… but you carry the mark."
> "When you arrive… you will answer."
---
He stumbled back, gasping.
The chamber dimmed. The door began to seal.
And the ring flared with heat once more.
Not pain.
Just expectation.