At the Apothecary…


    The flickering lanterns cast long shadows across the cramped apothecary. The scent of burnt herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the sharp tang of antiseptic and old parchment.


    Talis leaned against a shelf, arms crossed, as he watched Linda finish bandaging Nyssa''s side. The corruption was gone—for now—but her body had been through hell. She needed rest.


    Dren, the apothecary, wiped his hands on a rag, his golden eyes still sharp with unease. "She''ll live," he muttered. "But if you keep bringing me half-dead people, Linda, I might start charging extra."


    Linda smirked. "You already do."


    Talis pushed off the shelf. "I''ll step out for a bit. Need to clear my head."


    Linda gave him a knowing glance. "Just don''t bring trouble back with you."


    Talis scoffed, slipping through the door and into the alley. The city was quieter now, but tension still clung to the air like a storm on the horizon.


    ---


    A Short While Later…


    The door to the apothecary creaked open again, and Talis stepped back inside, holding a rolled-up newspaper. His expression was unreadable as he tossed it onto the wooden counter near Linda.


    "You''ll want to see this," he said.


    Linda raised an eyebrow but grabbed the paper. Dren, curious, leaned over her shoulder. The front page was bold and unforgiving.


    A VEILBORN HAS ESCAPED – FEDERATION ON HIGH ALERT


    Below the headline was a rough, sketched image of a cloaked figure wreathed in darkness.


    Linda''s fingers tightened on the edge of the paper. "Shit."


    Talis sat on the edge of a crate, running a hand through his hair. "This isn''t just any Veilborn. Orin Kierane barely made it out alive. The Federation is already calling for emergency measures. They''re panicking."


    Dren whistled low. "And when the Federation panics, cities burn."


    Linda exhaled sharply, her mind racing. "Zoren''s out there, and now this? If the Hunters lock things down, moving will get a hell of a lot harder."


    Talis nodded. "That''s not all." He hesitated, then pulled another, smaller letter from his pocket. "I sent word to the orphanage."


    Linda turned to him, eyes narrowing. "You did what?"


    Talis shrugged. "They needed to know we''re alive."


    She grabbed the letter from his hands, scanning the lines.


    To the orphanage,


    We''re safe. Alive. But we won''t be coming home anytime soon. Things are… complicated.


    We''re criminals now, whether we like it or not.


    For now, we''re going to see the world.


    Linda closed her eyes for a moment. She exhaled through her nose before looking at him. "You think they''ll understand?"


    Talis gave a lopsided grin. "Doubt it. But at least they won''t think we''re dead."


    Linda folded the letter, slipping it into her satchel. "We need to plan our next move. If Zoren''s dealing with whatever the hell is happening at the dungeon, we can''t just sit here."


    Dren chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "You lot never make things easy."


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Linda shot him a smirk. "Wouldn''t be fun if we did."


    The newspaper sat between them, the words glaring like an omen.


    A Veilborn had escaped. The Federation was mobilizing.


    And somewhere out there, Zoren was walking straight into the storm.


    ---


    While the world is on frenzy, IN the dungeon of illusion


    The cavern was silent—too silent. No whispers, no shifting footsteps, just the slow, steady drip of water echoing through the stone. The kind of silence that came after something terrible had passed.


    The candidates sat scattered across the chamber, backs against the cold walls, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. Faces pale, eyes hollow. They had survived the Trial of Fear.


    But survival didn''t mean they were whole.


    Some clenched their fists, knuckles white. Others refused to speak, staring at nothing, lost in whatever horrors the trial had dragged from their minds.


    Ryan watched from his place atop the raised platform, arms crossed, expression unreadable. As the Keeper of this dungeon, he had seen this reaction countless times. Fear wasn''t something that left you easily—it clung, dug deep into the bones.


    "You made it through," he said finally, his voice even. "That''s more than most can say."


    A few heads turned toward him, their gazes wary. They weren''t sure if they were supposed to feel relieved.


    "But don''t get comfortable."


    The air shifted. A deep rumble rolled through the stone beneath them. The chamber itself responded to Ryan''s words, as if the dungeon was waking up again, its hunger not yet satisfied.


    "This is your only rest." He lifted a hand, fingers curling slightly. All around them, the walls groaned as new structures began to rise—stone platforms, shifting pillars, chains dangling from unseen heights. A battlefield, taking shape before their eyes.


    "But before the next trial begins"


    ---


    Ryan stood at the front, arms crossed. His eyes scanned the group, sharp and assessing.


    "You''re all here because you think you''re ready," he said, voice calm but edged with authority. "But from what I''ve seen? Most of you are walking blind."


    A few shifted uncomfortably. Others frowned.


    Ryan sighed. "Before we even begin physical trial, there''s something we need to fix. Some of you don''t even understand the power you carry—the Cores within you. And that? That''s a problem."


    His gaze locked onto Zoren for a brief moment, then moved on.


    "You want to fight? You want to survive? Then you need to understand Cores."


    Ryan stepped forward, rolling his shoulders like a man preparing for a long lecture.


    "First things first," he said. "Every single one of you has a Core. It''s the source of your power, the thing that separates you from ordinary people. But not all Cores are the same."


    He raised a hand, and a faint hum filled the air. A flicker of energy—white-hot like molten metal—coiled around his palm.


    "There are four main types of Cores: Titan Cores, Veilborn Cores, Fractured Cores, and Primordial Cores. If you don''t know which one you have, you''re already at a disadvantage."


    He let the energy dissipate and glanced at them.


    "Let''s break it down."


    Ryan pointed at one of the candidates. "You. What kind of Core do you have?"


    The candidate hesitated. "Uh… metal?"


    Ryan clicked his tongue. "That''s an element, not a Core type. Listen carefully."


    He turned to the whole group.


    "Titan Cores are the most common. They come from the remnants of the Titans—the beings who shaped this world. They grant you elemental control, physical enhancements, or unique abilities depending on the Core itself."


    He gestured toward Zoren. "For example, a Darkness Core lets you manipulate shadows. A Light Core grants radiance and purification abilities. Fire, Ice, Earth—those are Titan Cores too. But just because they''re common doesn''t mean they''re weak."


    Ryan paused, letting that sink in.


    "Next, Veilborn Cores. These are dangerous. They come from beings beyond the Veil—creatures of pure darkness. Veilborn Cores are unstable, corruptive. If you have one, you either control it… or it controls you."


    A few of the candidates exchanged nervous glances.


    "Then there are Fractured Cores. Unstable, unpredictable, and rare. They contain two conflicting forces. You might think of them as a curse—but in the right hands, they can become something terrifying."


    His eyes flickered toward Zoren again.


    "And finally, Primordial Cores. The rarest. The most powerful. These are remnants of the first Titans—the ones that existed before history was even written. If you ever meet someone with a Primordial Core, assume they can rewrite the rules of reality itself."


    Silence.


    Ryan let the moment hang, then smirked.


    " Now to power levels"


    Aiden scoffed, brushing dust off his jacket. "Great. Another cryptic lecture."


    Ivar shot his twin a glare. "Maybe you should listen for once."


    Ryan didn''t acknowledge the exchange. Instead, he lifted his hand. A faint, iridescent glow pulsed from his palm—a swirl of something intangible yet overwhelming. The air itself vibrated around it.


    "Ether."


    The single word sent a ripple through the space, carrying weight beyond mere explanation.


    "This," Ryan continued, "is the foundation of all power. It fuels your Core. It defines your strength. And yet… many of you treat it like a weapon without understanding its essence."


    He clenched his fist, and the Ether in his palm shifted—splitting into two distinct halves. One was dark, swirling like the abyss, heavy with unseen gravity. The other shimmered with a soft, radiant glow, pulsing with warmth.


    "Light. Dark. Creation. Destruction. All of it stems from Ether. But a Core does not simply grant you power—it is a vessel. A conduit."


    One of the candidates Lilian narrowed her eyes. "You''re saying our Cores aren''t just about raw strength?"


    Ryan''s gaze snapped to her, unreadable. "Exactly."


    With a flick of his wrist, the two halves of Ether collided—and instead of canceling each other out, they merged into something greater. The energy expanded outward, momentarily washing the chamber in a blinding pulse before vanishing.


    Zoren''s breath caught. The sensation was eerily familiar—the same energy that lurked within him.


    Ryan turned, his dark robes flowing with the motion. "Your Cores dictate your potential, but your understanding dictates your power. There are tiers—levels of mastery—that separate a novice from a god."


    He raised a single finger.


    "The Awakened can barely harness Ether, using it in crude bursts."


    A second finger.


    "The Initiate learns to stabilize their Core, controlling Ether flow."


    A third.


    "The Adept bends Ether to their will, shaping it into techniques."


    A fourth.


    "The Master transcends simple manipulation, fusing Ether with their very being."


    And then his thumb.


    "The Transcendent… is beyond mortality."


    The silence that followed was thick. Heavy.


    Franklin finally spoke, his voice even. "And which are you?"


    Ryan tilted his head slightly, as if amused by the question. "You are not ready to hear that answer."


    Mabel clicked her tongue. "So, what now? You expect some of us to just figure this out on our own?"


    Ryan didn''t answer. Instead, he moved.


    One moment he was standing still—the next, he was in front of Aiden. No sound. No warning. Just an overwhelming presence.


    Aiden barely had time to react before Ryan''s hand hovered near his chest, fingers curved as if grasping something unseen.


    "Feel it," Ryan whispered.


    A pulse.


    A sensation—like a thread of energy tugging inside Aiden''s ribs, deeper than muscle, deeper than blood.


    His Core.


    Ryan pulled his hand back. "That is the difference between power and mastery. You do not command Ether. You resonate with it."


    Joe''s fingers curled. "Then teach us."


    Ryan studied her for a long moment. Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.


    "Very well."


    He took a step back, raising both hands.


    "Let me show you what it truly means to wield a Core."


    The chamber darkened.


    And the lesson began.


    ---


    To be continued.