Eryndor's breath caught.
He stood barefoot in a field that wasn't a field at all—blades of light bent beneath his feet, each one pulsing softly like the slow beat of a heart. The sky above him was divided into two halves: one half bathed in soft gold, the other darkened by a great, unnatural sphere suspended among the stars.
It wasn't shadow. It wasn't night.
It was the Black Sun.
Its glow was not cold but heavy, pressing on him with the weight of something ancient—something that hummed deep in his bones.
He looked down and saw his reflection not in grass or earth, but in rippling light. The air trembled faintly, whispering a thousand indistinct voices, each speaking in perfect harmony.
And then—one broke through. A voice calm and ageless.
"You've seen it, haven't you? The breath of the Sun that devours light."
Eryndor turned. A man stood behind him, dressed in white garments that looked more ceremonial than royal. His hair was silver—not with age, but by nature—and his eyes carried a faint trace of blue fire.
Eryndor narrowed his gaze. "Who are you?"
The man smiled faintly. "A remnant. One of those who learned too much, too soon."
He stepped beside Eryndor and looked toward the sky. The black sphere pulsed once, dimly, and the air around them shivered.
"What you see above is no star, no shadow. It is a core—a collapsed element. The thirteenth principle."
Eryndor frowned. "Thirteen? There are twelve recognized elemental laws."
"Yes," the man replied softly. "Fire, water, earth, wind, lightning, ice, metal, nature, sound, light, darkness, and ether. But what happens when all elements converge at perfect equilibrium?"
Eryndor's eyes widened slightly. "They… cancel?"
"Not cancel." The man's gaze never left the horizon. "They stabilize. The Black Sun is the still point between all elements—the Element of Equilibrium. It is creation without movement, motion without conflict. It is power that cannot exist in imbalance."
Eryndor's breath slowed. "Then what does that have to do with me?"
The man finally looked at him. "Your soul resonates with the equilibrium. You are not born of a single element. You are the convergence—the one who draws balance where there is none."
Eryndor stayed silent for a moment, the realization settling in. "And the storm within me?"
"It's the echo of your instability. The equilibrium you carry is imperfect. The lightning, the wind, the energy—they're all your body's way of keeping it from tearing you apart."
Eryndor laughed quietly under his breath, but it wasn't humor—it was disbelief. "So you're telling me that the same power that could level mountains is just… balance gone wrong?"
"Not wrong," the man said gently. "Unfinished."
A breeze swept through the field, carrying with it faint streaks of color—each hue representing one of the twelve known elements. They swirled around Eryndor, bending toward him as if drawn by his presence.
The man's voice grew quieter, deeper. "When the Black Sun awakens, the twelve elements will seek their still point. That is when the higher realms will open."
Eryndor glanced up again, watching the dark sphere pulse slowly against the voidless sky. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
"To enter the higher realms," the man said, "one must carry divine resonance. A mortal cannot cross dimensional thresholds by will alone. Not even you."
Eryndor's jaw tightened. "Then I'd have to become…"
"A God Candidate."
The words felt like stone. Heavy, final.
The man nodded. "Only through divine resonance can one transcend the boundary of balance. The gods themselves were once mortals who absorbed the will of their element's purest essence. You've touched that border before—when you faced Rein Clark. That was why he was sent to test you."
Eryndor's eyes narrowed. "So Rein's appearance wasn't coincidence."
"No. It was invitation."
Silence stretched again, long and heavy. The Black Sun dimmed slightly, as though drawing breath.
Eryndor's mind raced. Balance. The thirteenth principle. The core between creation and destruction.
He looked back at the man. "If all this is true, why tell me?"
The stranger smiled faintly, the kind that carried more sadness than peace. "Because once the Black Sun breathes again, every realm will look to you—some for salvation, others for annihilation. And before that happens…"
He reached forward, pressing a hand against Eryndor's chest. A faint warmth spread outward, like sunlight bleeding into his veins.
"You must decide which side of balance you wish to stand on."
The light engulfed everything.
Eryndor gasped awake.
He sat upright, drenched in sweat, the echoes of that impossible voice fading from his mind. His room was dim, the soft glow of dawn creeping through the window. Beside him, Lyanna stirred, her hand resting on her stomach, a gentle smile forming as she whispered his name.
But Eryndor wasn't looking at her—his eyes were fixed on the sky outside, where the morning sun rose faintly tinged with an unnatural hue of gold and black.
The same color as the dream.
He exhaled slowly, the faint hum of stormlight flickering around his skin.
"Thirteenth element," he murmured under his breath.
"Equilibrium."
And deep inside, the heartbeat of the Black Sun pulsed once, as though it had heard him.