Kane and Linia stood outside the cold, authoritative lodge, the makeshift seat of Changing Star's power.
"Have you ever come to this area before?" Kane asked, his voice low, a protective drone.
Linia, her eyes fixed on the oppressive stone facade, replied, "Very few times. I mostly prefer loneliness." Her turquoise hair seemed unnaturally bright against the backdrop of the decaying city. She turned her focus to him, a flicker of raw, contained rage in her gaze. "So, you truly believe that Changing Star's healing flame can cure me? Even after everything she's done?"
"There is a possibility," Kane admitted, pragmatic even in this desperate moment. "It's a powerful, purifying Aspect. I know you hate her for her goals and what she represents—but control that rage. We need her Aspect."
Linia clenched her jaw, the effort of suppression visible. "Yeah. It still reminds me of her... the first time."
Kane gave her shoulder a mild, bracing tap. They were survivors in a world that demanded monstrous adaptation.
Sid, the nervous attendant, finally emerged, his eyes darting between the two. "Changing Star awaits you."
Kane nodded, a grim resolve settling on him, and both followed Sid inside. They were led through corridors that smelled faintly of sterile air and ancient dust, until they entered a large, surprisingly austere chamber where Nephis and Cassie were waiting.
The sight was immediate and unsettling. Nephis, cloaked in her elegant severity, and the blind Cassie, unnervingly still, scrutinized the woman who stood beside Kane. Linia was wearing a silver-colored dress, now obscured by a simple, grey traveling cloak, her vibrant turquoise hair drawing the eye like a lure.
Kane made the introductions, the act formal and brittle. "Changing Star, Cassie, meet Philanias. Linia, meet Nephis and Cassia."
The two women stared at each other—one with divine coldness, the other with visceral hatred.
Cassie, sensing the tension and the shift in the balance of power, spoke first, her voice strained. "What is it, Kane?"
"Well, it is time for one of my conditions to be fulfilled," Kane stated, his voice flat and demanding. "Nephis, try to heal her."
Nephis showed no reaction, her composure unbreakable. She merely extended a hand, the pale skin radiating a faint, internal heat. Linia reluctantly presented her arm, the site of the infection.
The sight was horrific. The dark blight was not just a stain on her skin; it was a necrotic shadow, a creeping, spiderweb-like corruption that spread from a single point on her forearm. It was a disease born from a Nightmare, a physical manifestation of decay that seemed to actively devour the light around it.
Nephis immediately summoned her Flame, the holy fire crackling around her palm. She pressed the cleansing heat against the infected area. The fire was brilliant, divine, and absolutely pure.
But it was rejected.
Instead of being burned away, the necrotic shadow seemed to absorb the purifying light, causing a momentary flare of deep, poisonous indigo. The fire did not cleanse; it merely illuminated the frightening extent of the corruption. Nephis pressed harder, summoning the flame to its fullest potential, pushing the limits of her Aspect. The room temperature spiked, yet the infected tissue remained unmoved, untouched. It was as if a god's touch had been negated by a demon's seal.
After a terrifying minute, Nephis withdrew her hand. Her face, for the first time, showed a tiny fissure of shock. The infected area had not reduced at all.
Kane, watching the failure with cold finality, spoke. "It seems your flames won't heal it."
Nephis looked down at Linia's hand, her gaze clinical and grim. "What is it exactly?."
Kane pulled Linia's sleeve down, shielding the horror. "It is quite complex. It will take time to explain." He turned to leave, his immediate objective failed but his ultimate plan reinforced. "I will depart. Let's meet after a week for the expedition."
As Kane and Linia left the lodge, Cassie, whose intuition was terrifyingly accurate, spoke to Nephis, her voice a barely audible whisper. "I couldn't see her runes either, Nephis. She is completely hidden from my Sight."
Nephis looked at her blind ally, the realization sinking in: Kane had returned not just stronger, but profoundly alien and unknowable. The threat he posed was now entirely unquantifiable.
Kane and Linia walked to the Bright Castle Academy, the training camp he and Shakti had co-founded. As they approached, Kane surveyed the place with an objective eye. It had improved vastly. It was no longer a haphazard survival camp but a genuine hub of activity—multiple dedicated training stations, a fighting arena, and a palpable sense of discipline and burgeoning order.
"It... improved a lot," Kane admitted, genuine respect in his voice. "You are truly its founder, Shakti. You gave it the stability it needed."
Shakti, who was addressing a small group in the center, spotted them and approached. "No need for false modesty, Kane. You are the founder of this too. Take credit where it's due." She looked at Linia, her keen eyes assessing the turquoise-haired girl immediately. "This must be Philanias."
Linia offered a rare, genuine smile, having been briefed on Shakti's loyalty and competence. "This must be Shakti. Kane has praised you a lot."
Shakti giggled, a surprising, warm sound. "Well, let me examine you and see what can be done from my side with the plant medicine." She then looked at Kane. "And men are definitely not allowed."
Kane smiled, a genuine smile this time, feeling a familiar comfort in Shakti's authoritative nature. He watched them walk away to a secluded room.
Left alone, Kane started to meet the folks who had joined the Academy during its foundational months. As he talked with them, the pieces of the puzzle surrounding the fractured leadership began to fall into place.
He learned the truth: Shakti had cleverly spread rumors about Cassie's Vision. She had not necessarily denied the prophecy, but offered a different, more palatable interpretation—one that questioned the necessity of Nephis's absolute authority and instead promoted a balance of power. This calculated manipulation successfully sowed seeds of doubt and resentment in the followers, ensuring that even in Kane's absence, Nephis could never consolidate her position alone. This fear of a divided camp is what forced Nephis to reluctantly agree to the collaboration with Shakti's faction.
The surviving Dreamers he met, however, only had one thing on their minds. They treated him like a figure returned from myth, their questions a barrage of suffocating curiosity: "Why did he leave?" "What happened between him and Changing Star?" "Where was he in the Dark City?"
Kane thought, slightly horrified, 'What am I? A celebrity? Already celebrating one idiot—Nephis—is enough for this damned city.'
As time progressed, Kane indulged them with simple, controlled spars, with the explicit rule that Aspect usage was restricted. He used his raw, superior strength and speed, moving with the brutal efficiency of a wild beast, teaching them lessons that were more about survival instinct than elegant technique. He was a terrifying, feral ghost training the living.
After a period of quiet intensity, Shakti and Linia emerged. Shakti's expression was grave.
"This disease seems to be quite potent, Kane," Shakti reported. "My initial assessment is that the power of a standard Lamp Memory—a healing artifact—could work, but only if it were of a much higher Rank, maybe even a different memory. I can try to soothe the spread with complex plant medication, and this will buy us time, but we need to increase the Lamp Memory's Rank or search for a high-Rank healing relic."
The failure of Nephis's divine flame, combined with the confirmation that only an extreme Rank relic would suffice, solidified Kane's grim reality.
He thought for a moment, the conclusion absolute. The Dawn Shard was his only conceivable path to a high-Rank healing Memory. It was the relic he had to secure on the expedition.
Kane sighed, a heavy, profound sound that acknowledged the dangerous road ahead. "It seems... I need to travel a lot." The expedition was no longer a negotiation or a calculated risk; it was a desperate, harrowing pilgrimage.
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