The morning light over Crescent City was pale and restrained, a thin spill of amber through high-altitude fog and gilded towers. From the upper level of the RSA's Central Compound, the sky barely moved—hovering in that state between dream and memory. Alex stood by the edge of his dorm balcony, fingers curled lightly around the cold obsidian railing.
Below, Crescent throbbed quietly with life. Airships drifted in regulated patterns above the transportation lines, sending ripples across the energy domes that framed the old districts. It felt… distant now. Not unfamiliar, but untouchable. A painting behind reinforced glass.
A quiet knock interrupted his thoughts.
He turned, not startled—just aware.
The door eased open and in stepped a figure cloaked in conservative RSA garb—navy-trimmed, formal, lined with regulation glyphs. A silver medallion marked the woman's rank: Administrative Liaison-Class Observer, lower noble status, mid-tier clearance. Her hair was plaited in a tight crown around her head, her gaze neutral.
"Alex Caelum," she said without bowing, without pleasantries. "You've been reassigned."
He blinked slowly. "Just like that?"
She walked to the edge of the room, opened a scroll case, and produced a sealed data crystal.
"Your Rift stabilizations exceeded predictive projections by 62%. The Vault Citadel board classified your Rift-handling capacity as 'emergent-interventional.' Command wants it applied abroad."
Alex didn't take the crystal. "Where?"
She answered without hesitation. "West Syverian Territory. You'll assume lead oversight at a Rift Research & Containment Bureau stationed at Karthmere Ridge, near the borderlands of the Wastes."
He turned his back to the railing and studied her.
"That's not a promotion. That's exile."
"No," she replied. "It's recognition. Or containment. Depending on who's reading the decision."
There was a silence between them then. Not strained—just heavy. Like a weight was settling onto the floor between their shoes.
"Why me?" he asked.
Her voice lost some of its bureaucratic tone. "Some believe Crescent was your proving ground. Others believe it was your mask."
She handed him the crystal, which lit faintly upon touch. "Seventy-two hours. You're to report to the Outbound Command Hub at Terminal Gate IX. Transportation has been arranged."
He watched her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Understood."
Before leaving, she paused at the door. "They'll monitor you more closely in Syveria. Less eyes, yes—but sharper ones."
When she was gone, the silence that followed wasn't empty—it was waiting.
Internal World – Hours Later
Inside the palace of his inner world, shadows spiraled quietly along the obsidian corridors. Alex walked beneath constellations held aloft by nothing, celestial light bleeding softly into the sky-vaulted ceiling.
Elara was already waiting for him.
She stood on the overlook platform just below the throne chamber, her silver-barred armor resting on a hook beside her. Her posture was relaxed but her eyes were alert.
"So, it's done?" she asked.
He nodded. "They're sending me west."
"To the Wastes?" Her brow creased slightly. "Bold."
"Or desperate."
She stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back. "Do they know?"
He shook his head. "Not yet. But they know there's something."
At that, Elara smirked. "Then they're already behind."
He walked past her, gazing down the long main corridor—the architecture of his palace slowly changing, responding to the shift in his internal power. The Hidden Blood Pool beneath the throne had grown in depth, its faint glow now visible even from above. Hallways lengthened in the corners of his awareness. Subterranean nodes unfolded like petals, unseen but sensed.
"Will you come with me?" he asked without turning.
Elara laughed quietly. "My place is where the shadows gather, Your Majesty."
He looked over his shoulder, the title now oddly familiar on her lips. "The Wastes have no shadows. Just wind and ruin."
"Then we'll make our own," she said.
The Next Morning – Departure Briefing
Back in the real world, the RSA Transit Wing bustled with preparation. Alex moved through the stone-arched corridors flanked by escort drones and light protocols. The air was colder here, touched with Rift interference. Far beneath Crescent's upper platforms, the foundation began to feel unstable.
He passed an inspection window where several younger officers trained with crystalline simulators—replays of Rift collapse scenarios. One of them glanced up and froze, as if recognizing him. The others followed suit.
None of them spoke. But he saw it in their eyes: the weight of rumor.
He ignored them and walked on.
Inside his assigned debrief chamber, a holographic interface unfolded as he approached. A low table lit with rotating maps of Syveria—most of it red-zoned, blinking warnings across fault lines and unstable Rift fractures.
The Wastes themselves were unmarked territory—untamed, speculative.
The Rift Research & Containment Bureau there was barely functional. Only two prior heads had survived longer than a month.
Alex studied the data. "They want to see if I break."
"No," came a voice behind him. "They want to see what happens if you don't."
Rhaenys Sael'Var stood in the doorway, wrapped in her customary ivory robes. She looked unburdened, almost pleased.
"You've already met the Vault's expectations," she continued. "Now you'll meet the world's."
He raised an eyebrow. "Did you arrange this?"
"No. But I didn't stop it either."
She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "You're meant for more than this city, Alex. But you'll never rise by staying here. Not in the capital of compromise."
He looked at her, eyes unreadable. "Will I see you again?"
"I'm certain of it," she replied. "The winds in Syveria stir old things. And some of us… listen to the wind."
Then, she placed a small envelope on the table. "From Elira. She said not to open it until you cross the border."
And with that, she was gone.
Skyline Farewell
Alex stood alone on the highest walkway above Crescent's eastern spire, the city folding out like a tapestry below him.
Behind his eyes, the Origin Star System hummed softly.
"Bloodline development at 77.4%"
"Blood Core Tier – Upper-Phase Stabilized."
"Shadow signature adapting to new regional harmonics."
Elara emerged behind him, wrapped in traveler's black, her scabbard latched at her hip.
"Everything is ready, My Lord."
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked out at Crescent City—its glass towers, the hidden Vault, the traces of power and history, blood and starlight.
"A city of beginnings," he murmured. "But not the place I'll rule from."
Then he stepped away from the ledge and walked toward the next shadow.