The sun crested just above the jagged spires of Valdros Academy, casting long, golden rays through the ancient archways. A gentle breeze danced across the courtyard, rustling the academy's crimson banners like whispered secrets. But inside the eastern training grounds, chaos of a different kind unfolded.
"You oversized horn rack! If your antlers were any heavier, they'd drag your wisdom down with them!"
…Raiven barked, pacing in front of a very unimpressed Thalorean.
The legendary stag didn't even blink. "And yet I still see better than you do, muttwolf."
Raiven's hackles rose. "I'm a Veilwolf, you antlered mountain goat. Say it right or say nothing."
"Then I'll say this: you've gotten slow. Or is Karl hiding your leash again?" Thalorean said, flicking his tail.
Karl pinched the bridge of his nose as Nyra snorted behind him. Kael leaned against a training post, arms folded, smirking.
"They've been at it for thirty minutes," Kael muttered. "Do they ever stop?"
"Only if someone dies," Aeris said flatly.
Raiven turned sharply. "I heard that!"
Thalorean huffed. "Good. It means your ears still work."
Despite the roasting session happening between creatures that could individually reduce most of the continent to ash or dust, the scene was oddly comforting. They weren't just Soulbinds. They were living memories of an age long past. And even they didn't have all the answers.
Raiven finally turned to Karl. "You sure about inviting him to this ceremony? The way his hooves click, he might be mistaken for entertainment."
"Better than being mistaken for a shaggy carpet," Thalorean retorted.
Karl sighed. "Both of you—please. We've got bigger things to worry about."
Like the invitation that had arrived that morning.
The Celestian Solstice — Valdros Academy's most sacred event, held once every ten years, shrouded in secrecy and tradition.
But this year… it would be public.
And for the first time, guests from outside the academy — even commoners — had been invited.
Even Karl's family.
The idea that his mother, his little sister, and…
him… might show up?
That thought unsettled Karl more than all the glyphs combined.
Later That Evening
Karl sat alone under the glow of the mana lanterns strung along the rooftop garden, elbows resting on the edge of the parapet.
The breeze carried whispers from below — preparations already underway for the Solstice. Students chattered excitedly about the performances, the duels, and the showcase of affinities.
His fingers traced the edge of a sealed envelope again.
It bore no seal. No emblem. Just his name in clean ink.
Karl Valen.
Inside, the handwriting was unmistakable.
It was his father's.
After years of silence, he had written one thing:
"If you are reading this, then I am on my way."
No signature. No explanations.
Karl clenched the letter, his heart twisting.
He wasn't even sure if his father was alive.
The man who had once taught him how to grip a sword, then disappeared without a trace.
They said he was a simple merchant, a quiet man.
But the way instructors flinched when Karl spoke his father's name — the way Headmaster Elaris's gaze lingered on him when discussing family bloodlines — something didn't add up.
Elsewhere…
Headmaster Elaris Caelestis stood on a floating rune platform, watching the moonrise over the ceremonial plaza.
She spoke softly to the cloaked figure behind her.
"He's coming."
The man remained silent.
Elaris's expression was unreadable. "Do you remember the last Solstice?"
"I remember what he sacrificed to protect them," the man said, voice like gravel.
"Then you also remember what he refused to become."
The man stepped forward. In the moonlight, his face finally showed. Sharp, clean features — but haunted eyes.
Karl's father.
Back in the Training Grounds
Karl met up with Nyra and Kael.
"Tomorrow," Kael said, tossing a scroll into the air, "the schedule for the Celestian Solstice begins. And guess what?"
Karl raised an eyebrow.
"We're performing in the Opening Duel," Nyra said with an almost evil grin.
Karl blinked. "We are?"
"Three-on-three," Kael confirmed. "Against the top disciples from the third division."
Karl let out a breath. "Perfect."
"Don't worry," Nyra said, patting his shoulder. "We'll be fine. Especially with your mysterious aura and brooding good looks to distract half the audience."
Karl blinked again. "What?"
Kael laughed. "She's right. You've got the 'tragic protagonist with hidden powers and a soft spot for family' vibe down to an art."
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
Later That Night
Raiven lay curled at Karl's bedside. Thalorean stood watch near the window, antlers glowing faintly.
"You're quieter than usual," Thalorean said.
Raiven didn't open his eyes. "Too much talking today. My throat's sore."
The stag chuckled. "You're worried."
Raiven sighed. "He's not ready. Not yet."
"He will be."
"You always say that."
"And I'm always right."
Raiven opened one eye. "The Veiled Core… it's stirring again."
Thalorean's tone grew serious. "Then we must move before it awakens fully."
Next Morning — Ceremonial Plaza
The plaza had transformed into a wonder of glowing glyphs, ethereal banners, and elevated crystal rings that floated like platforms. Students in formal dueling attire stood in groups, buzzing with excitement and anxiety.
Karl walked toward the stage with Nyra on his left, Kael on his right.
"We've got this," Kael said, cracking his knuckles. "We'll keep a low profile."
"Kael," Karl said. "We're on a floating platform in front of thousands."
Kael grinned. "Exactly. Can't get any lower."
Nyra laughed. "At least let us win dramatically."
Opening Duel Begins
Three opponents floated into view — cloaked students from the third division, known for their aggressive combat style and elemental precision.
The crowd hushed.
Instructor Lannins stepped up. A tall man with a sharp voice and a disapproving scowl.
"Let the Solstice begin."
With a flash, the arena flared to life.
Karl's sword gleamed as glyphs lined his arms — his core pulsing with Green and Blue hues. Verdant and Flow — Nature and Water.
Kael summoned a twin pair of arcanic bracers — Violet Core pulsing through them.
Nyra spun her staff, flames dancing across her shoulders — her Red Core blazing with fire affinity.
The battle began.
And it was chaos.
Lightning bolts crashed, vines coiled, flames erupted. Karl moved like a phantom, parrying spells with the elegance of someone born in another era. Nyra unleashed a blazing phoenix spiral, Kael blinked mid-air and cracked the ground with a force burst.
Together, the trio moved in perfect rhythm — something the audience didn't expect.
Karl ducked under a blast, whispered, "Now," and Kael launched him with a mana-enhanced throw.
Karl flipped, blade gleaming, and slammed into the final opponent with a burst of light.
It was over in moments.
The crowd exploded into cheers.
But in the shadows above, his father watched… unreadable.
After the Duel
Karl walked offstage with his friends when he heard a voice.
A deep, quiet voice.
"You've grown."
He turned.
And froze.
"…Dad?"
His father stood there, not in a noble's robe, not in a warrior's armor, but a simple travel cloak. Gray touched the edges of his beard. But the eyes — they were the same.
Karl's breath caught. "You're alive."
"I never stopped watching," the man said softly.
"You left."
"I had to."
"…Why?"
His father didn't answer. He looked down at Raiven. "Still guarding him, wolf?"
Raiven stepped forward. "Always."
"I'm sorry," his father said. "For everything. But the time's coming, Karl. When you'll have to choose not just who you are — but what you stand for."
And then he was gone.