Zeyr's blade hummed faintly before he sheathed it, the final spark of starlight vanishing into the scabbard.
"Come," he said, voice calm but lower than usual. "We're not here to fight ghosts."
Helion nodded, still catching his breath as he followed closely.
The two continued deeper into the cave. The path narrowed, and the walls began to pulse with a soft, ethereal glow—blue veins of energy snaking through the stone like lightning frozen in time. The air was thick, warm, and fragrant with old magic. Not hostile… but ancient.
They stepped into a circular chamber.
The moment Helion crossed the threshold, he felt it.
A weight in the air—thick as gravity, humming with raw power. His breath caught as he gazed ahead.
At the center of the chamber… sat the Lumiare Stone.
It was nothing like he expected.
Roughly the size of a large shield, it rested within a cradle of spiraled rock—as if the cave itself had grown around it in reverence. The surface of the stone shimmered with a deep, multicolored sheen. Violets, blues, hints of gold—like a prism trapped beneath obsidian glass.
But it wasn't smooth. It was jagged and slightly curved, almost scaled—as though carved from the hide of a mythical beast. And it radiated heat. Not searing… but alive.
"Is that…?" Helion whispered.
Zeyr nodded, stepping forward. "The Lumiare Stone. The only known fragment ever recorded in the northern wilds. Raw, untouched… spirit-charged...
Helion approached slowly, mesmerized. He could feel its mana from feet away. It wasn't just dense—it was anchored. Like gravity bent toward it. Like the world had to make room for its existence.
"It looks like… a dragon scale," Helion murmured.
Zeyr knelt beside it, running his fingers just near its edge—never quite touching.
"In a way, it might be," he said. "Some believe stones like this were born in the age when dragons and elemental spirits still shared the skies. It's pure spirit crystallization—mana hardened over centuries under pressure no human could survive."
He looked up at Helion.
"Touch it."
Helion hesitated.
Then slowly, he reached out.
The moment his fingertips brushed the stone's surface—light exploded in his mind.
Images. Sounds. Feelings.
Heat. Flight. Roars. Light. A pulse of something… ancient and enormous.
Helion stumbled back, gasping. His heart raced.
Zeyr caught him by the shoulder, steadying him.
"That's the Lumiare for you," he said calmly. "It doesn't show you power. It shows you possibility."
Helion looked back at the stone—its surface still glowing faintly, now with a soft gold hue.
Zeyr stood straight, folding his arms.
"We'll need to extract it carefully. It's not just heavy—it's dangerous if agitated. Mana this dense can rupture the air if cracked."
Helion crouched beside the stone, still feeling the residual pulse in his fingers. His eyes traced the shimmering grooves across its curved, scale-like surface.
"So… why doesn't everyone just make their sword from this stuff?" he asked, voice quiet but filled with curiosity.
Zeyr glanced at him with a nod of approval. "A good question."
He stepped around the stone slowly, his hand hovering just above it again.
"This stone—this Lumiare—would make an incredible weapon. Strong enough to house a powerful spirit bond. Durable beyond nearly any material we know. And yes… in the right hands, it could forge a blade worthy of legends."
He paused, letting the moment sit.
"But here's the truth," he continued. "This stone… it's never content."
Helion furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"
Zeyr's tone lowered, edged with reverence. "It drains mana. Slowly, constantly—like a spirit that refuses to sleep. Most people don't have the core to feed something like this without being consumed themselves."
He tapped his chest lightly. "Their mana burns out. Their bond fractures. Their sword becomes a burden—or worse… a curse."
Helion looked back at the stone, the golden sheen still glowing gently.
"But me and Luminox…?"
Zeyr gave a slow nod.
"You and your spirit seem different. Luminox isn't ordinary. And you've shown signs of resilience—not just in your body, but in how your spirit resonates. You both may be one of the rare exceptions."
He leaned in slightly, voice quieter now. "This stone is alive in a way. It amplifies everything. Power, yes—but also weakness, fear, doubt. If your bond isn't solid, it will fracture."
Helion swallowed. The weight of the stone in front of him suddenly felt even heavier.
Zeyr reached into his coat slowly, eyes focused and unblinking. He pulled out a small, curved blade—its handle wrapped in weathered cloth, the metal almost shimmering unnaturally, as if it didn't fully belong in this world.
Helion tilted his head. "A knife?"
Zeyr crouched beside the massive Lumiare stone, his posture suddenly rigid with care. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple despite the cool cave air.
He whispered without looking up, "I need to cut a piece large enough to forge your sword… but if I make even a single mistake—"
He paused, lips tight.
Helion blinked. "Wait—what do you mean mistake?"
Zeyr gave a half-smile, not taking his eyes off the stone.
"Well… if I chip this wrong, we'll be vaporized."
Helion stumbled back instinctively. "What?!"
Zeyr chuckled softly under his breath. "Yeah. This isn't just stone—it's compressed mana. Dense. Living. If it reacts poorly… it'll erupt like a collapsing star."
Helion pointed at the small blade. "You're using that? Shouldn't you at least be using your sword? Maybe channel your mana into it?"
Zeyr immediately shook his head.
"No. If I channel mana into a weapon here, this whole cave turns into our grave. Lumiare doesn't like competition. It absorbs energy—and explodes when it gets too much."
He held up the knife reverently. "But this—this isn't just steel. This blade was gifted to me by the same friend who gave me the cabin. It's embedded with arcane runes… reality-warping enchantments. It doesn't cut with force. It bypasses the structure of the material entirely. To Lumiare, this knife might as well be a breeze."
Helion watched, wide-eyed, as Zeyr gently pressed the blade to the glowing scale-like stone. It moved like slicing through silk.
No noise. No resistance.
Just a clean shimmer—like cutting through light.
Then—crack.
The blade shattered in Zeyr's hand, fragments crumbling into dust before they hit the ground.
Zeyr held up a chunk of Lumiare, perfectly cut and radiating with a steady pulse of golden and violet energy. He blew softly across it, dispersing any leftover particles, and turned to Helion.
"And that," he said, standing tall again, "was the one and only use of that knife."
He offered the stone to Helion, who stared at it with awe.
"Be careful with it," Zeyr said. "It's heavier than it looks. Both physically… and spiritually."
Helion reached out slowly, taking the stone.
And immediately, he felt it.
Weight that went beyond his hand. A pull—like it wanted something from him. Recognition, maybe. Or submission.
He held it tighter.
"I'll make it worth it," Helion said, more to himself than to Zeyr.
Zeyr smiled faintly, brushing the dust from his coat.
"You'd better. That little rock just cost me a one-of-a-kind reality blade."
The air in the cave still hummed, faintly echoing the power that had just been unleashed. Dust drifted lazily through stray beams of light that had begun to creep through cracks high in the stone ceiling—like the cave itself was exhaling after holding its breath for centuries.
Zeyr gave one last look to the cavern behind them, his expression unreadable. "That's enough excitement for one day."
Helion nodded silently, clutching the Lumiare stone close to his chest. It still pulsed faintly with a rhythm that almost matched his heartbeat.
As they made their way toward the mouth of the cave, their footsteps echoed in steady tandem—Zeyr calm, composed; Helion a step behind, gaze wide with everything they'd just survived.
The moment they reached the threshold of the cave's mouth, the light burst around them like a curtain lifting.
Above the treetops, Linx soared in wide, graceful arcs. His wings caught the sun, painting streaks of flame across the sky. He circled low once—like he'd been watching, waiting—and let out a low, proud cry that rolled through the hills like a trumpet call.
Helion looked up, shielding his eyes with a grin. "He always knows where we are, huh?"
Zeyr smirked. "He's not just a bird. He's a sentinel. Probably knew something was waiting in that cave before we even stepped in."
They stepped fully into the light, the shadow of the cave falling away behind them.
For a brief moment, Helion paused and looked back.
The cave no longer shimmered with menace. Just a quiet, empty hollow of stone. Whatever power had once guarded it had been broken—or changed.
"You think Hex is really gone?" Helion asked.
Zeyr adjusted his coat and started down the rocky path. "No spirit ever truly disappears. But he won't bother us again."
Helion gave the cave one last glance, then turned to follow.
The wind picked up as they descended the ridge—cool and brisk, carrying the scent of pine and earth. Linx let out another cry and soared ahead, leading the way like a fiery beacon across the blue sky.
Helion grinned. He felt tired, sure—but something else too. Stronger.
The Lumiare stone hummed faintly in his hands.
A new chapter was coming.
Zeyr glanced back at him.
"Don't fall behind, apprentice. You've still got a sword to forge."
Helion nodded, jogging to catch up.
"Right behind you."
And with that, they disappeared down the trail—two shadows stretching forward under the afternoon sun, walking toward whatever came next.