The letter arrived by crow.
No magic, no seal, just a black envelope marked in ink that shimmered faintly under moonlight. Professor Elan opened it during breakfast. Her expression changed only once—when she read the signature.
Then she stood up, summoned the council, and called for a visitor ward.
"Someone's coming," she told the staff. "Someone old."
---
By noon, the sky had gone gray.
Thunder rolled in the distance, though no storm had been forecast.
And through the front gates of the Academy strode a figure cloaked in deep emerald—tall, ageless, with eyes the color of forgotten spells and a ring of gold ink around his throat like a brand.
His name was Corin Valcera.
And he was not supposed to be alive.
Kael knew the name. Everyone did. Corin had vanished sixty years ago after reportedly ascending beyond the threshold of magic's mortal limits. Most assumed he'd gone mad. Others whispered he had joined the Weftless—a cult of magic-weavers who believed the world was just a tapestry to pull apart.
He smiled as he entered the hall. It was a sharp smile.
"I felt a pulse," Corin said, removing his hood. "I came to see what dared to wake."
---
Elias was kept hidden, for now.
Kael and Japer watched from the upper balcony as Corin spoke with the professors below—smooth, pleasant, utterly predatory.
"He knows," Japer muttered. "He felt Elias awaken."
Kael's grip on the railing tightened. "Why hasn't he demanded to see him?"
"Because he's not here to demand," Japer replied. "He's here to hunt."
---
That night, Elias couldn't sleep.
The power inside him felt quieter—but not gone. Like a fire buried under ash. He didn't need Kael or Japer to tell him someone dangerous had arrived.
The wards around his room had been doubled. He wasn't allowed to walk alone. His magic flared at odd moments, flickering when he was anxious or tired.
"Everything's changed," he whispered to the mirror. "And I don't know what to do with any of it."
He reached for the amulet again—still in his drawer, still warm to the touch. But this time, it didn't flare.
Instead, it whispered:
"He sees you."
Elias jerked back, heart pounding.
---
Meanwhile, Corin stood at the edge of the southern tower, staring up at the stars.
"Spellwoven," he said aloud to no one. "I thought the line was dead."
Behind him, Kael stepped out of the shadows.
"You won't find what you're looking for," Kael said coldly.
Corin turned, amused. "Won't I?"
Kael's voice was flat. "He's not ready."
"Neither was I," Corin replied. "But magic doesn't wait for readiness. It chooses. And when it does, the world bends or breaks."
Kael didn't flinch. "If you go near him—"
"You'll what?" Corin interrupted, soft but cutting. "You're not a protector. You're a distraction."
Kael's jaw tensed.
And Corin's smile widened.
"Let him come to me," he said, turning back to the stars. "He will. Power always seeks itself."
---
Later, Kael returned to Elias's room, found him awake and pale, sitting by the window.
"He's here for me," Elias said before Kael could speak.
Kael nodded. "You heard him?"
"Not with ears."
Elias turned, his voice a whisper:
"Part of me wants to go."
Kael didn't answer right away.
Then: "And the other part?"
"…is afraid of what I'll become."
Kael sat beside him.
"No matter what part wins," he said quietly, "you won't face it alone."
Still no promises. Still no confessions.
Just proximity, and a war approaching.