The frost mage removed their mask.
Underneath was a face pale as snowfall, marred by faint scars that spiderwebbed across one cheek and vanished into a curtain of silver hair. Their eyes—one blue, one gray—seemed to flicker faintly in the dim light, as if ice itself stirred beneath the surface.
Riven tensed. His hand hovered near his blade.
Joe, still catching his breath from the fight, stood slowly.
"I was wondering when you'd stop watching and start talking," he said.
The mage studied him in silence, then finally spoke—softly, but with command.
"You shouldn't be alive."
"Story of my life."
Their lips twitched—almost a smile.
"I am Kaelen," they said. "Last Magus of the Quiet Veil. Bound to the Covenant of Eight. We are what remains of the old resistance. The ones who didn't fall."
Joe blinked. "Didn't fall to what?"
Kaelen turned their eyes to the scorched walls of the chamber. "To Torn. To what this world has become. The corruption is not nature—it's intention. Design. Something shapes it. Feeds it."
They stepped forward, passing Riven without flinching.
"The storm chose you. That means you're either a weapon… or a warning."
Joe clenched his fists, lightning crackling faintly up his arm. "And which one do you think I am?"
Kaelen looked at him for a long moment.
"I think you don't know yet. That's why I'm here."
They raised a hand. A sigil shimmered in the air—eight interlocking runes arranged in a broken circle.
"The Covenant of Eight was formed when Torn first broke. Mages, paladins, archivists, and war-singers. Not to rule. Not to save. But to remember. To fight the slow rot with what little truth remained."
Joe frowned. "But you're the only one left?"
Kaelen nodded. "The rest are dead. Or worse."
They moved to the edge of the Well, placing their hand on the smoldering stone. Frost formed beneath their touch, calming the last trembling embers.
"You're strong, Joe. But strength without control is just noise."
"Been getting that a lot lately."
Kaelen turned, more serious now. "Your lightning is not ordinary. It's storm-aligned—wild, primordial, and corruptive if left untamed. But it can be shaped. If you're willing to learn."
Joe hesitated. "And what's in it for you?"
A pause.
Then Kaelen spoke—quieter than before.
"There was another like you. A long time ago. I trained him. Trusted him."
Their voice cracked slightly.
"He burned half a continent before I realized what I'd made."
Silence.
Even Riven didn't speak.
Kaelen straightened. "So this time… I will not make the same mistake."
They extended a gloved hand, palm open.
"Come with me. I'll teach you to master your core. Or I'll be the one who ends you, should it fail."
Joe looked at the hand.
Lightning surged up his spine—painful, urgent, hungry.
But for once, he wasn't afraid of it.
He took Kaelen's hand.
"Then let's not make the same mistake twice."
---
[New Party Member: Kaelen – Element: Ice / Support-Class Mage]
[New Objective: Travel to the Vault of Echoes – Learn to Control Core Sync Before 100% Threshold Breach]
[Time Remaining: 8 Days]
Joe exhaled slowly as the sigils faded.
Riven watched them both with wary approval. "We'll need to move fast. The land won't stay quiet long."
Kaelen nodded. "The Vault is far… and not untouched."
As they stepped out of the purified Well and into the shifting red light of Torn, the horizon shimmered with new storms.
But for the first time in days, Joe didn't feel like he was walking toward the end.
He was walking toward something beginning.
---
That night, Joe lay on his back, eyes on the stars. But his mind wasn't in the sky.
It was still in the Well.
Still in the fire.
Still watching that memory play on repeat—the grocery store, the shaking hands, the moment he did nothing.
Only this time, he wasn't watching.
He was inside it.
And someone else was there.
A shadow of himself—same face, but wrong. Emptier. Sharper. Smiling like a blade.
"You think the lightning forgives you?" the shadow hissed. "You think killing monsters makes you good?"
Joe backed away. The store melted into crimson mist. Shelves turned to bones. Lights flickered like dying neurons.
"I'm not that person anymore," Joe said.
"No," the shadow agreed. "You're worse."
It stepped forward, crackling with black lightning. Voice identical—but hollowed.
"You killed Drakar. Saved a patch of dirt. But you still flinch. Still wake up screaming. Still pretend this second life means something."
Joe grit his teeth. "You're just fear. The rot."
The shadow grinned. "I'm the part of you that remembers. The coward. The watcher. And I'm not going away."
It surged forward—lightning arcing in corrupted spirals.
Joe tried to cast.
His magic failed.
---
He awoke gasping.
Lightning cracked through the grass. His heart pounded. Kaelen was already beside him, hand on his chest, frost soothing the sparks.
"Breathe," they said. "You were convulsing."
Joe sat up, shaking. "It was me. But twisted. From the Well…"
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Residual psychic echo. Something clung to the memory you gave. That shadow… it is part of you."
Joe clenched his fists. "How do I stop it?"
"You don't," Kaelen said. "You outgrow it."
---
Later, Joe sat on a ridge alone. Lightning flickered between his fingers.
The power felt... less wild. Still watching. Still testing.
He whispered, "I'm not who I was."
The lightning didn't answer.
But it didn't fight him either.
---
Elsewhere…
In a tower of bone and smoke, the Watchers stirred.
Three faceless veils. One leaned over a crystal pool where lightning danced.
"He lives," one said.
"Drakar is gone," murmured another. "The land breathes."
"The frost heir reveals themselves. The oathbreaker walks. The storm-born awakens," said the third.
In the dark, another pool shimmered.
Far away, a pair of red eyes opened in silence.
Waiting.
Remembering.