Lindarion tapped the map with two fingers. His voice was steady. He didn't bother with buildup.
"These aren't just ancient artifacts. They're part of a system. Someone buried them a long time ago, then waited. They knew exactly where the leyline veins would shift over time."
"You're saying this was planned?"
"Yes. Not decades ago—centuries. Maybe longer."
Leonhardt's face tightened. "How many of these runes are active?"
"Six that I've confirmed. Three more are dormant, but wired. They pulse at intervals. The next one goes live in three days."
He pointed to a marked spot near Caldris.
"Here. Ravaryn's estate."
Leonhardt looked at the marking. "He has no known connection to magic."
"I know," Lindarion said. "That's why it worked. No one questions a noble who doesn't get involved."
"And the others?" Leonhardt asked. "Where are they?"
"Velmora. Veldoria. One under the Shroud River. Another outside Sylvarion. Two I haven't fully mapped yet—they might be mobile."
"Mobile?" Leonhardt repeated. "As in… carried?"
"Some runes are small enough to be etched into enchanted items. Shields. Armor. Jewelry. They're moving them between safehouses."
Leonhardt exhaled through his nose.
"You have any idea who's doing this?"
"Not yet. I've seen them, but never the same face twice. Masked, robed, always fast. They don't stay to fight. They activate and move."
"And you followed one into Ravaryn's?"
"Yes," Lindarion said. "I teleported in. Found the residue near a sealed tunnel beneath the estate."
"It's locked tight. Reinforced. The duke either doesn't know, or he's pretending not to. But that place is sitting on a pulse point. If it goes off…"
Lindarion looked him dead in the eye.
"Your borders will unravel. Slowly, at first. But your mages won't be able to stabilize anything. Spells will degrade. Portals will collapse. Wards will fail."
Leonhardt rubbed his jaw.
Lindarion answered without delay.
"We hit the site before the pulse. Seal it. Destroy the rune. Search the tunnels. And find out who's behind it."
"Do you need a legion?"
"No," Lindarion said. "A legion gets noticed. I need twenty men. Loyal. Fast. I'll take point."
Leonhardt nodded slowly. "You'll have them."
He stood and moved to the desk, pulling open a drawer. From inside, he took out a thin slate and began writing a command.
"I'll send the order. You'll have entry clearance by morning."
Lindarion leaned back in his chair. His eyes stayed on the fire for a long second.
'It's working. He believes me.'
'No. Not believes. He sees it now.'
Leonhardt spoke again without looking up.
"Does Princess Luneth know you're doing this?"
"No. I told her to stay at the academy."
"She would've followed."
"She might still come."
But he didn't say it.
The king signed the last line of the order and handed it over.
"When will you leave?"
"Tonight," Lindarion said. "I'm not wasting time."
Leonhardt nodded. "Be careful. If these people are who you think they are, this won't end at Ravaryn's."
"It never was going to."
He stood and turned to leave. Ashwing lifted his head, then climbed silently up to his shoulder.
Leonhardt didn't move from the table.
"Don't die for this."
Lindarion didn't look back.
He just said, "I'll try not to."
Edric Kane hadn't moved in ten minutes.
He stood just down the corridor from the king's private quarters, his posture relaxed, arms loosely folded, eyes on the window across from him. He looked like a man lost in thought.
The enchantment woven into the far wall behind the torchlight was subtle. Imperfect. A crack in the palace's original mana shielding.
Just wide enough to catch echoes, just precise enough to trace the voice of anyone speaking directly inside that chamber.
And Edric had spent the last half hour listening.
To Lindarion Sunblade's voice, cold, quiet, sharp as the stories had always made it sound. No longer a boy. No longer missing.
'Damn it,' Edric thought. 'He came back stronger.'
He waited until the final footstep faded, then turned and walked, calm, casual, down the opposite corridor. He didn't look behind him. Didn't run. Just walked.
It wasn't until he reached his chambers that he locked the door and activated the scroll.
The ink shimmered the second his finger touched it. Old lines burned faint violet, threading together in slow rotation.
Not a communication method used by the royal court.
One used by a different circle.
One that never left a written reply.
He knelt and spoke directly.
The scroll's surface shimmered once, activating a listening field.
"Target has returned," Edric said. "Lindarion Sunblade is alive. Confirmed—he spoke with Leonhardt in private. No guards. No interruption."
He paused, jaw tightening.
"He knows. Everything. The glyph network. The pulse timing. Ravaryn's estate. He named it directly. Claims the next activation is in three days."
A flicker of heat passed through the scroll, acknowledgement. Silent, wordless approval. It told him to continue.
"He's leaving tonight. Heading to the site. He asked for twenty men. Small strike force. The king's giving him clearance, he can basically act on his own now.."
Edric's voice dropped.
"He wasn't bluffing. He's changed. Controlled. Efficient. He disabled four guards without pause. Brought a dragon into the hall. Didn't flinch when I drew on him."
The scroll glowed once.
Edric didn't hesitate at all.
"I recommend initiating Phase Three. We move now. No more waiting. If he reaches Ravaryn, the site will be compromised. We can't afford that."
The scroll glimmered, soft heat, slow spin.
But Edric knew what it meant.
He closed the scroll. Burned the tip clean. Locked it away beneath the floorboard.
Then stood, adjusted his collar, and looked once at the moon through the narrow balcony slit.
'Three days,' he thought.
'Then the first seal breaks.'
And the world changes forever.