The teleportation gate shimmered like a captured sunrise.
For a moment, Adrian stood on the edge of its golden light, feeling the pull of two worlds — the lingering chill of Noctharyn's moonlit halls behind him, and the warm radiance of Dravenholt before him. Carmila's scent of roses and iron still clung faintly to his cloak. Her last words echoed in his mind:
"Don't forget what you carry, Adrian. Even if they call you friend, never let them see the glow beneath your skin."
He nodded once, mostly to himself, and stepped through the gate.
Light swallowed him whole.
When it cleared, he was standing on sun-warmed marble at the heart of Solara's Crest — the capital of the Dravenholt Empire. The air here was different: alive with heat, with the hum of mana that felt like thunder trapped in glass. Towers of goldstone rose around him, each crowned with banners bearing the lion sigil of House Dravenholt. The very sky seemed brighter.
Waiting for him at the edge of the arrival dais was Nymera.
She looked as radiant as he remembered — golden hair bound in a warrior's braid, emerald eyes sharp with confidence, sunlight glinting off her silver armor trimmed in crimson. But when she saw him, her stern expression softened into something dangerously close to a smile.
"You're late," she said, crossing her arms. "The teleportation schedule was fixed two days ago."
"Something… delayed me," Adrian replied, voice calm, measured. "The vampire continent is never predictable."
Nymera's eyebrow twitched. "So it's true, then. You really stayed at the palace of the Noctharyn heir."
Adrian met her gaze without flinching. "Yes."
For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then she sighed — not in anger, but in something closer to resignation. "You always choose the complicated paths, Adrian."
"I don't choose them," he said quietly. "They find me."
Her expression softened. "Then maybe it's time you learned to walk in the light for a while."
The next days passed in a strange, peaceful rhythm.
Dravenholt was nothing like Noctharyn. Where Carmila's realm was twilight and silence, Nymera's world was sunlight and sound — soldiers sparring in courtyards, banners snapping in warm wind, laughter echoing through golden halls. The imperial palace itself was alive with activity: knights, scholars, even young mages from Nova Academy visiting on royal exchange.
Adrian spent mornings training with Nymera in the palace's open-air coliseum.She was a natural instructor — firm, exacting, endlessly patient. The way she moved with a sword reminded him of music: every strike, every parry, a note in perfect rhythm.
And yet, in those brief pauses between duels, she would look at him — as though searching for something she couldn't name.
One evening, as the sun melted over the plains, they stood on a high balcony overlooking the empire. Below, the city glowed like liquid gold.
Nymera leaned against the railing. "You're quieter than usual. I thought you'd be enjoying the break."
"I am," Adrian said. "It's… peaceful here."
"But not enough to make you forget whatever happened in Noctharyn, is it?" she asked, turning to face him.
He hesitated. The sigil beneath his chest pulsed faintly — not bright, but present, like a slow heartbeat under glass. "Let's just say… the past doesn't sleep easily."
Nymera studied him for a moment, then stepped closer. "Adrian, I don't know what's happening with you. But whatever it is, you don't have to bear it alone. You've got me now."
Her hand brushed his arm — warm, steady. For a fleeting moment, the echo of the Boundless Core inside him quieted, soothed by her presence.
He smiled faintly. "You say that now. But if you knew what was really inside me—"
"I don't need to know," she interrupted. "I just need to believe you're more than whatever power you're afraid of."
The wind caught her hair, scattering sunlight across her armor.For the first time in weeks, Adrian felt warmth that wasn't born from mana.
That night, under the twin moons, he couldn't sleep. The palace was silent except for the hum of the mana wards that guarded its perimeter. He stepped onto the balcony again, staring out toward the horizon — toward the distant line that separated day from night.
Somewhere beyond that horizon lay Noctharyn, and Carmila's unspoken worry.
And beyond even that — in the dark between stars — something ancient stirred, listening.
The seal sleeps, the echo within him whispered.But not forever.
Adrian closed his eyes, steadying his breath."I know," he murmured. "But not tonight."
Behind him, faint footsteps approached. Nymera again — dressed in a light robe, her hair unbound, carrying two cups of steaming tea.
"I thought you might be awake," she said softly, handing him one. "Dravenholt nights are quieter than you'd think."
He took the cup, their fingers brushing. "I was just… thinking."
"You always are," she said with a faint smirk. Then, after a pause: "Carmila worries too much. I don't intend to lose sleep to the same ghost."
Adrian chuckled quietly. "You two are more alike than you think."
She arched a brow. "If you ever say that again, I'll duel you at dawn."
"Wouldn't be the first time," he said, smiling.
Their laughter carried into the night, light and fleeting.For a moment, there was no Boundless Core, no ancient seal — only two souls standing under the moons, trying to remember what peace felt like.
But far above them, in the shifting tapestry of stars, a new light flickered — not gold, not crimson, but pure white. It pulsed once, twice… then vanished.
Somewhere beyond creation, a watcher stirred.
The Boundless Core had not forgotten.
And neither had the gods.