The fissure represented more than just a physical tear; it was a deliberate violation of the boundaries that separated Inhevaen from the chaotic realms beyond. The entity controlling it had found a way to bypass the Dome's protective barriers by exploiting the concentrated magical energies of the Awakening ceremony, using the Children of Silence as both weapons and anchors for its influence.
Finally. Whatever was on the other side gave up. A hissing, sibilant howl of rage echoed—the last sound before silence. The fissure closed. However, a scar remained in the air.
Though the immediate threat had been neutralized, the encounter left a permanent mark on both the physical location and the magical landscape of Mount Ilhyr. Where the fissure had been, a thin, barely visible line remained—a scar in reality itself that would never fully heal. More concerning to those with magical sensitivity was the lingering corruption that had seeped into the surrounding area, creating a miniature Dead Zone that would require constant monitoring and containment.
Karel gasped. Now awake. Whatever had taken his body was gone. The heat still crackling around him was just an echo of what he had felt moments before. The energy of the Dome, alive, pulsing like a heart had pierced his body like a caged thunder. Now, the silence was almost unnatural, except for the noise of the returning winds.
As the entity's presence receded from his consciousness, Karel experienced a profound sense of loss and disorientation. The vast knowledge and power that had flowed through him moments before became fragmented memories, like pieces of a dream rapidly fading upon waking. He retained impressions rather than details—a sense of ancient purpose, of cycles completing and beginning anew, and most persistently, a warning about threats gathering beyond the Dome's protection.
At his feet, the bodies of the other initiates lay inert, unconscious—but alive. Their pale faces, closed eyes, as if sleeping a sleep too deep to be disturbed. Some murmured disconnected words, touched by the same power that had knocked them down. Karel observed them, astonished, with his chest heaving, feeling both guilty... and terrified.
The other initiates had been fundamentally changed by their exposure to the Dome's direct intervention. Though unconscious, their bodies continued to adjust to the multiple gifts that had been awakened within them—gifts that would have remained dormant under normal circumstances. Their murmured words were not random but fragments of the same ancient language Karel had spoken while channeling the Dome's consciousness, their minds processing information never meant for mortal understanding.
Around him, the ground still trembled slightly. As if the soil had acquired consciousness.
The magical aftershocks of the confrontation would continue for days, affecting the entire mountain and potentially beyond. The concentrated release of Dome energy had temporarily thinned the barriers between different types of magic, creating unpredictable interactions between elemental forces. Plants might grow with unnatural speed, stones might float momentarily defying gravity, and weather patterns would shift erratically until the natural balance reasserted itself.
Karel tried to move, but his exhausted body did not respond. He felt each cell scream.
The last image he saw before fainting were the crystal obelisks, still vibrating softly.
The obelisks had been permanently altered by the events of the ceremony. Where before they had been tools for focusing and directing the energies of the Awakening ritual, they had now become something more—conduits directly linked to the Dome itself. Their vibrations were no longer the result of elder manipulation but an autonomous response to the Dome's ongoing attention to this location. They had become, in essence, monitoring devices through which the Dome could maintain awareness of Karel and the other transformed initiates.
And then, darkness embraced him.
As Karel lost consciousness, his mind was flooded with fragmented visions—not dreams but direct transmissions from the Dome's vast awareness. He saw glimpses of previous cycles, of other Bearers who had come before him, their faces blurred but their purpose clear. He saw the pattern of Dead Zones spreading across Inhevaen, not random but deliberate, forming a complex sigil that threatened the Dome's integrity. And most disturbingly, he caught a fleeting impression of a silver-haired woman with eyes like bottomless pits, directing the forces arrayed against the Dome with calculated precision.
The elders who had survived the attack approached cautiously, their expressions a mixture of awe and terror. What they had witnessed defied all historical precedent—a direct intervention by the Dome in mortal affairs, channeled through a single initiate who had manifested not just five or six, but seven distinct gifts. The implications were staggering, both politically and metaphysically.
"The Bearer," whispered Tharolis, kneeling beside Karel's unconscious form. "After all these generations... the Bearer has awakened."
The other elders exchanged troubled glances. The prophecies surrounding the Bearer were ancient and often contradictory. Some texts portrayed the Bearer as a savior who would restore the Olkhar to their former glory and strengthen the Dome against external threats. Others warned of catastrophic change, suggesting that the Bearer's awakening heralded the end of one cycle and the painful birth of another.
"We must inform the Regent immediately," said one elder, her voice trembling. "And secure the mountain. No word of this can reach the other races until we understand what has happened here."
"It's too late for secrecy," Tharolis replied, gesturing toward the sky where the Dome's vibrations were still visible as rippling waves of light. "That display was seen across half of Inhevaen. The Verithil seers will already be interpreting it, and the Sylarei word-mages will have felt the linguistic disruption when he spoke."
"Then we must control the narrative," insisted another elder. "Present this as a triumph rather than a potential threat. The other races must see the Bearer's awakening as a stabilizing force, not a disruption to the current balance of power."
As they debated, none noticed the small, dark shape that detached itself from the shadows of a fallen obelisk—a construct of void energy that had survived the purge, now slipping away to report what it had witnessed to its distant master.
The attack on the Awakening ceremony had failed in its primary objective—to eliminate the potential Bearer before his gifts could fully manifest. But it had succeeded in a secondary goal: confirmation. Now the Lady of Shadows knew with certainty that the prophecy was in motion, that the Bearer had awakened, and that the next phase of her millennia-spanning plan must begin in earnest.
Somewhere, beyond the borders of Olkaris...