"They all look promising," one pro hunter muttered, arms crossed as he observed from the sidelines.
"They'll be great Hunters," Garrik responded with quiet certainty.
The other man smirked, then said, "Weren't you scared your son might not make it out alive?"
"Scared?" Garrik scoffed, almost laughing. "Don't make me laugh. If he were to die in a place like this… then he was never a son of mine to begin with."
Garrik had been assigned to train this year's batch of Hunters for the bonding ritual, and he did so without favoritism. Every recruit received equal parts scolding and encouragement—whether they were noble-born or his own blood. Still, it was obvious he saw something of himself in Kael. That unspoken bond forged Kael's respect. To Kael, Garrik wasn't just a trainer. He was a figure to chase—a symbol of what a Hunter could become.
One evening after a brutal day of training, when the sun hung low and the air was thick with sweat and silence, Kael carved his name into his worn wooden sword.
"Why'd you do that, Kael?" Dren had asked, watching him from where he sat cooling off.
Kael grinned, running his fingers over the groove. "I want to be remembered here. Just like my dad. It's a small start… but I'll get there."
"You're such a stupid simpleton," Lyria muttered nearby, her voice laced with that familiar teasing sarcasm—but even she couldn't hide the faint smile pulling at her lips.
"I did it, old man," Dren thought, his chest warm. "As fate would have it… I've made friends."
Now, years later, Dren stood alone in the same training yard. The old wooden sword rested in his hand, brittle with time. He smiled as he stared at Kael's carved name.
"I almost forgot… how much fun we had, Kael," he murmured, laying the sword down gently. "You're still remembered here."
The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over Celestis Rise. Dren inhaled sharply. His mind was made up. No more bending to the Guild's whims. No more being used and discarded. He was going to do things his way now.
That night, beneath the cracked ceiling of his dorm, Dren lay awake, eyes fixed on the jagged patterns above. Thoughts swirled like storm clouds. How would he slip out unnoticed? What were the consequences? He turned from side to side, weighing every possible outcome, until at last—sleep claimed him.
---
Business continued as usual within Celestis Rise. To the average eye, nothing was amiss. But today marked the day of execution—the day Thadeus would smuggle the party beyond the walls to Umbra's End.
Dren was surprised when Thadeus requested his presence too, despite previously being told he wasn't allowed to join the mission.
At precisely noon, the party gathered at Heaven's Garden, a quiet courtyard blooming with violet flowers and whispering leaves. Everyone was present—except Thadeus.
"He told us to be here exactly at noon," one party member grumbled. "And he's the one who's late?"
"Thought I wasn't coming," Dren muttered. "So why'd he call me here?"
Before anyone could reply—
"Sorry I kept you waiting," said a voice from nowhere.
The group flinched. Eyes darted around, but saw nothing.
"What the—where are you?" Dren called out.
"How can we hear you like you're standing in front of us… but see nothing?" asked another, unnerved.
"There!" someone pointed. Thadeus appeared, stepping from seemingly empty space, a faint ripple of light warping around him.
"I've been here the whole time," he said with a soft chuckle.
Bane blinked. "Either my eyes are cursed or you just appeared out of thin air."
"How… how did you do that, Your Grace?" Dren asked, both awed and wary.
"Oh, come now," Thadeus replied, smiling. "I told you—just Thadeus. And it's nothing too special."
Silence fell again.
"What you just witnessed is something… unique to me," he said, the air around him shimmering. "I call it Refraction. During the Battle of End, when the Harbinger was defeated, Garrik Veymar struck the final blow. But something else happened—an energy burst from the Harbinger's body, scattering across the world."
He paused, voice lowering slightly.
"A few years after, I discovered I could bend light. With enough training, I learned to manipulate it—hide within it."
Dren's brow furrowed. "Why tell us this? Doesn't that make you… vulnerable?"
Thadeus laughed softly, but there was steel beneath the sound.
"As you are right now, I could kill each of you a hundred times over before you landed a single blow."
He wasn't boasting. He was telling the truth.
"I shared it because it's also your ticket out of here. Light, as you know, reflects into the human eye. But I can bend that light… distort it. To anyone watching, you'll be invisible—as long as you stay in formation behind me."
"Amazing…" someone whispered.
"Now, Dren," Thadeus continued, "you'll scout the perimeter. Make sure our path is clear as I escort the others."
"Understood."
"When we approach the Gates, I need the three of you behind me in a straight line. No errors, no talking. One misstep, and the illusion breaks. Got it?"
"Yes, Thadeus."
He gave a nod. "Then let's move."
They departed through the winding path of Celestis Rise, finally reaching the towering Gates—twelve meters of black-forged metal, built into the bones of the mountain itself.
Dren broke ahead, doing exactly what was asked. He scouted the approach, signaling when the coast was clear.
Moments later, the group slipped past the threshold of Celestis Rise, unseen and unchallenged.
Thadeus returned alone.
---
He found Dren waiting at the overlook near the cliffs.
"You made it back," Dren said, watching the last rays of sunlight bleed over the horizon.
"I always do," Thadeus replied with a faint smile.
Dren hesitated, then asked, "Why didn't you want me to go with them?"
Thadeus looked at him for a long moment.
"Because I needed you here. There's… research I've been conducting. Research concerning you, Dren."
Dren blinked, stunned. "Me?"
"Yes," Thadeus said, his voice calm but unreadable. "We'll speak more soon."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving a storm of questions in Dren's heart.
---
Elsewhere, at the highest terrace of Celestis Rise, Eldrin—the eldest of the Vanguards—stood motionless, arms folded behind his back. His silver hair flickered in the wind like strands of moonlight.
He had watched Thadeus's movements closely for days now.
Too many secret meetings. Too much stealth. Too much… deviation.
His eyes narrowed.
Why the sudden flurry of activity? What game are you playing, Thadeus?
A shadow passed overhead. Eldrin didn't flinch.
He was already moving. Quiet. Calculated.
If Thadeus thought he could move unseen in Celestis Rise, he was mistaken.
And Eldrin intended to prove it.