The buried city beneath Blackstone Academy pulsed with a steady, unshackled rhythm, its black-gold runes glowing faintly under the early morning sky, casting a warm light as the late morning sun rose higher. The Veins' freedom had fortified the academy as a radiant stronghold, its ley-lines weaving a resilient web across the continent, awakening ancient realms and ushering in an era of fragile molten focus after recent transformations. Mark Wilde stood in the council chamber within the academy's central tower, its walls etched with runes of unity and resilience that thrummed softly in the daylight. The crystalline table held Lysa's glowing orb, its map now shimmering with a cold pulse from the Frostveil Peaks, northwest of the Ember Chasm, indicating an icy resurgence tied to the Veins' awakening. His allies—Elira, Vrix, Silas, Lysa, Kaelith Veyr, Torin Drayce, Lirien Frostweave, Gavric Thorn, Thryme Dren, Koryn Stormchaser, Sylra Vineborn, Draven Ashwalker, Celene Prismguard, Astrael Nightwatcher, Kael Driftsand, Liora Mistguide, Tharok Earthflame, Nyx Duskwraith, Lyra Celestarch, Erynn Rootwhisper, Zariel Crystalshade, Calen Tidewhisper, Tavrin Chronoshield, Kaelor Sunforge, Lirien Echochord, Seryn Nightveil, Tharok Emberforge, Veyra Frostspire, Kaelith Stormveil, Zariel Prismheart, Erynn Spiritveil, Lyra Sunpetal, Calen Moonflow, Astrael Nightveil, Tharok Emberflow, Liora Frostveil, Tavrin Stormrift, Erynn Crystalvoice, Erynn Rootbloom, Tavrin Seacall, Seryn Duskveil, and Astrael Stargazer—gathered around, their faces reflecting the morning's warmth yet chilled by the icy signal. The air vibrated with mana, charged with frigid energy yet shadowed by a frozen force.
Lysa traced the orb's map with a steady hand, her journal open, its pages shimmering with frost runes. "The Ember Chasm's rift is transformed," she said, her voice calm despite the late morning's brightness. "But the journal detects a new chill from the Frostveil Peaks—an icy resurgence, a wave of frost and endurance awakened by the Veins, guarded by a figure called Lirien Frostwarden."
Mark's eyes narrowed, the Forbidden Tier magic stirring beneath his skin, aligning with the city's pulse as the morning deepened. "The Frostveil Peaks," he said, sensing a shift from molten to icy. "What's the resurgence's purpose?"
Lysa pointed to the map, where the cold pulse marked a range of snow-capped summits. "The journal calls it a ley-line glacier, a bastion where the Veins channel ice and perseverance. Lirien Frostwarden, an icy sentinel, seeks to harness this resurgence—either to strengthen the Veins' resilience or to freeze their essence, depending on their intent."
Elira leaned on her staff, her wards glowing softly, cutting through the chamber's late morning light. "The Frostveil Peaks are frigid—glistening ice, mana-woven cold, and an air that tests the spirit. This resurgence could fortify us or paralyze us. Our alliances are fragile; this could unite or isolate them."
Silas twirled his cane, his grin frosted by the challenge. "A glacier in the peaks? That's an icy fight. My Runebreakers can scout, but the Peaks are a freeze. We're holding the academy, but we're intrigued. What's the plan, Wilde?"
Vrix's stone-like skin glinted as she traced a glyph pulsing with stabilizing energy. "The Archives describe glaciers as ley-line bastions, blending ice and perseverance. Lirien could use this to either bolster or lock the Veins. We must gauge their intent."
Mark's mind merged the strategic depth of his past life as Maximilian Wilde with his current role as the Crownless Sovereign. The icy resurgence offered resilience but also stagnation. "Lysa," he said, "any insight from the journal?"
Lysa flipped to a new page, revealing a sketch of a stoic figure wreathed in frost and ice, surrounded by runes of endurance. "It reads: 'The Frostwarden seeks to ward the Veins' glacier. The Crownless must face them with flexibility, for their strength lies in their resurgence.'"
Elira's wards flickered, her tone cautious. "Flexibility? The Peaks' cold could lock us, Mark. It's an icy challenge."
Mark's smile was adaptable. "Then we flex with their resurgence. The Veins are our resilience. Vrix, can your glyphs stabilize the ley-lines at the glacier, countering their frost runes? Silas, your Runebreakers can secure the Peaks' base. Elira, Lysa, Kaelith, Torin, Lirien, Gavric, Thryme, Koryn, Sylra, Draven, Celene, Astrael, Kael, Liora, Tharok, Nyx, Lyra, Erynn, Zariel, Calen, Tavrin, Kaelor, Lirien, Seryn, Tharok, Veyra, Kaelith, Zariel, Erynn, Lyra, Calen, Astrael, Tharok, Liora, Tavrin, Erynn, Erynn, Tavrin, Seryn, Astrael, you're with me. We'll harness the endurance."
A new voice, crisp and resonant, broke the stillness. A stoic figure with skin like pale ice and eyes like frozen lakes stepped forward, their robe woven with glacial threads. "I am Veyra Iceveil," they intoned. "I've felt the Frostveil Peaks' chill. Lirien is my kin, driven to strengthen or freeze the resurgence—peacefully or by force. I'll guide you, if you seek balance."
Vrix nodded, her glyph grounding. "I can stabilize the ley-lines, but the Peaks' mana is frigid. Thirty minutes, at best."
Silas twirled his cane, his grin thawing. "Thirty minutes to harness an ice cult with a new veil? I'm in. My team'll hold the base."
"Set," Mark said, his eyes glowing as the Forbidden Tier magic surged. "We move at noon. Let's ward the strength."
The Frostveil Peaks glistened under a noon sky, its snow-capped summits pulsing with awakened mana, the air thick with frost and icy resonance. Vrix's glyphs had carved a narrow, stabilized path, guiding the ley-lines' flow. Silas's Runebreakers, aided by Veyra's ice craft, secured the Peaks' base, their illusions conjuring warmth and dispelling frost, drawing any sentinels away from the glacier.
Mark, Elira, Lysa, Kaelith, Torin, Lirien, Gavric, Thryme, Koryn, Sylra, Draven, Celene, Astrael, Kael, Liora, Tharok, Nyx, Lyra, Erynn, Zariel, Calen, Tavrin, Kaelor, Lirien, Seryn, Tharok, Veyra, Kaelith, Zariel, Erynn, Lyra, Calen, Astrael, Tharok, Liora, Tavrin, Erynn, Erynn, Tavrin, Seryn, Astrael, and Veyra moved through the icy terrain, their mana-woven cloaks shielding them from the frigid energy. The ground thrummed with a rhythm of perseverance. "This place is a freeze," Elira muttered, her staff's flexibility struggling against the ice. "The mana's rigid."
Mark's hand hovered near his spiral glyph, the Forbidden Tier magic syncing with the Veins' pulse. "It's resurging," he said.
Lysa clutched her journal, its runes glowing as she whispered a counterspell, the light cutting through the frost. The path revealed an icy resurgence, its center dominated by a spire pulsing with blue light—the ley-line glacier. "They're here," she said, pointing to a figure in the snow. "Lirien."
A stoic figure emerged, wreathed in robes of frost and ice, their staff wreathed in glacial energy that warped the air. Their face, framed by crystalline hair, held an enduring yet conflicted gaze—Lirien Frostwarden. "You are the Crownless," they intoned, their voice a chill wind. "But you are brittle. The Veins' glacier will be warded, and my resurgence will reign."
Mark stepped forward, the Forbidden Tier magic blazing. "Your ice is a lock," he said. "The Veins are free, and flexibility endures."
Lirien's staff flared, unleashing a wave of icy mana that warped the glacier into a maze of frost and snow—enduring echoes, surging waves, a world that paralyzed all. Elira's wards surged, anchoring their flexibility, but the shield strained under the resurgence. Lysa whispered runes, Veyra and Koryn weaving counter-ice, but more sentinels emerged, their staffs amplifying the ritual.
Mark fought with adaptability. The Forbidden Tier magic wove the Veins' flexible energy, harnessing the resurgence. The glacier pulsed, responding to his presence, and the ley-lines surged, countering Lirien's runes. Visions flashed—the First Sovereign's free world, the Veins' power meant to endure, not freeze. Lirien wasn't a warden; they were a force, warding to enforce control.
"I see you," Mark said, his voice cutting through the cold. "You're not reigning—you're locking."
Lirien lunged, their staff unleashing a spear of blue light. Mark met it