"I need to speak to Vaeliyan alone," Imujin said at last. The words carried weight, less command now, more truth. He moved closer, voice dropping to something only Vaeliyan could hear. "This cannot wait."

The cadets froze, glancing between each other, but the tone left no space for argument. The other instructors hesitated, eyes flicking toward Imujin, uncertain. He lifted his hand and clarified, voice lower but no less firm. "Don't leave the sanctum. Just far enough away that none of you can hear. This cannot be spoken unless it is in privacy."

The weight of his words settled heavily. Alorna nodded once, understanding immediately. She gathered the reluctant instructors and cadets with a sharp gesture, guiding them back through the trees. None of them liked it, but none of them resisted her either. Even among those who were trusted, there were things that could not be spoken aloud without the shield of silence. Their retreat was slow, marked with backward glances and stiff shoulders, until finally the sound of their steps faded, leaving only the hush of wind through leaves and the distant creak of branches bending against the storm.

The clearing emptied. The others receded until their presence was nothing but faint movement at the edges of the sanctum, far beyond earshot. The circle of silence pressed in, a weight as palpable as the storm still lingering around Vaeliyan. The air grew thicker, heavier, as if even the trees themselves leaned in to hear but dared not cross the boundary.

Only Imujin remained, standing across from him with a face like stone. His eyes tracked the restraints, the trembling in Vaeliyan's chest, the way the storm still seemed to shiver under his skin. The air between them was tight, charged, as if the act of speaking itself might tear something fragile. He did not move for a long moment, letting the silence stretch until every sound of the forest had died back into stillness.

Finally, Imujin's voice cut into the quiet. "I asked you if you knew what the name Mondenkind meant. You said yes, but the answer you gave was not the answer I sought. What you have is something different. But I will tell you the story."

He drew a long breath, his gaze fixed somewhere past Vaeliyan as though looking into an older world. "There is only one story of Mondenkind. It is older than all of this, older than the Citadel, older than the Nine, older even than the Legion itself. It does not belong to men or to gods, and yet both claim to have touched it. Long ago, before any of this, there was the Gate of Stars. No one remembers what it truly was. Some called it a crown, others a throne, a weapon, a passage, a piece of heaven itself. Every telling disagrees, but all agree it was power. The Gate began to falter, breaking apart beneath the weight of gods and men alike reaching for it."

He leaned closer, his words carrying the heaviness of an oath, as if the telling itself was dangerous. His tone shifted, low and almost reverent. "That is when the name first appeared: Mondenkind. The story says Mondenkind closed the Gate of Stars. Some say it was sacrifice, that without them the skies themselves would have torn open and the world would have been undone. Others claim Mondenkind stole it, hid it where none could ever find it, denying all claimants forever. Either way, the Gate was lost. It has never been seen again, not in history, not in dream, not in the records of any power that remains."

He straightened slowly, jaw tight, his expression hardened, as if repeating something forbidden, something dangerous to even speak aloud. "The story ends in contradiction: Mondenkind, savior of the world… or thief of its last hope. A blessing to all life below, a curse upon humanity. That is all the tale gives us. That is all that remains."

The silence stretched, and Imujin's eyes shifted, not to Vaeliyan but to the ring on his own finger. His thumb traced the metal absently, a gesture born of habit. "The Emperor himself believed it. He was obsessed with it, obsessed with finding the Gate. He searched for traces of it in every ruin, every battlefield, every scrap of story left behind. His campaigns, his wars, his endless drive, all bent around the hope of recovering what Mondenkind had taken or sealed. He never found it. He died chasing it. But his obsession kept the name alive long after it should have been forgotten."

Imujin's voice dropped again, quieter now, as if to ensure no echo could carry beyond the sanctum. "And now, all that survives is the name, Mondenkind, and the weight that comes with speaking it. The Emperor's will still lives in the rings we wear, but no road back exists for him. Only echoes. Only the story. And you spoke the name aloud. That is not a small thing, Vaeliyan."

His gaze hardened further, and when he spoke again it was with a gravity that made the clearing feel even smaller, as though the weight of his words pressed the trees closer, the night darker. "I have spoken with the Emperor. He has made it clear that if you are to speak again, he must test you first, the test of might. He knows you are not ready. That is why he refuses to see you. It is not rejection, it is protection. You passed a test that was never meant for you, the test of souls. The test of might is the first test, and you have not yet walked it."

He exhaled, long and sharp, as if carrying centuries of burden in a single breath. "With that in mind, you must gain more power before he can answer your questions. I will speak to him again and try to gather what I can, but understand this: the will bound in the rings can only do so much. It has limits. It is tied to its purpose. And right now, that purpose is to keep you alive. To do that, it must keep you away."

He let the words hang, his eyes narrowing, as though measuring the boy against the weight of destiny. "I know that is not what you want to hear. I know it sounds like another denial, another refusal. But believe me, Vaeliyan, this is for you own survival. The Emperor's will is not your enemy. It shields you even as it shuts you out."

The wind stirred around them, carrying the bitter taste of cold and rain. Vaeliyan could feel Imujin's words pressing deeper than sound, the story burrowing into the storm still unsettled in his chest. The clearing seemed smaller now, heavy with the weight of an old name finally spoken aloud again. The silence between them stretched, long and taut, until it felt as though the whole world leaned in to listen and wait for what would come next.

"What can be done about this?" Vaeliyan asked, voice low but urgent. He had been silent through most of Imujin's telling, carrying the weight of Mondenkind's name in his chest like a blade that refused to leave its sheath. The clearing felt too small for the words that had been spoken, the trees around them listening as if they too remembered the old story.

Imujin shifted, his eyes narrowing before settling back on Vaeliyan. "Luckily," he said, measured and deliberate, "I have spoken with Darun. He has decided it would be best to get you all as many levels as possible before the Shatterlight Trial. That means an expedition into the Red Underneath Kyrrabad. You will be down there as long as it takes to push you toward the maximum level for your tier. When you return, I will help you with your class upgrades in the sanctum. We will keep your secret as long as we can, but secrecy will only last as long as strength carries you. Once strength fails, secrecy fails with it."

The words pressed down on Vaeliyan. They felt like a promise, but also a sentence, as though he had been shackled to inevitability. His breath came unsteady, the storm in his chest tightening. "I don't know what changed with my Soul Skills. I don't know what they have become."

Imujin's gaze was sharp, unflinching, the kind of look that could cut through hesitation. "Take the time you need it, but remember, we do not have the luxury of idle days. We need you as strong as possible. We need you alive. Strength will not wait for you to feel ready."

Vaeliyan swallowed. His mouth was dry, his throat tight as though the question itself might choke him. "How high of a level do you think I need to be before I can speak to the Emperor again?"

Imujin let out a breath that might have been a laugh or a curse. His shoulders rolled once, weary with the weight of memory. "Roughly level sixty, give or take. That is the floor for a body to stand a chance in pure physical combat against what the ring hides. Normally I would say higher for most, but you are not most. You are already carrying something heavier than most could survive."

"Sixty?" Vaeliyan echoed, incredulous. His voice cracked between disbelief and hope. "Are you sure of that?"

"Certain enough," Imujin replied. His tone left no space for comfort, only certainty that bordered on warning. "It is my estimate, and you will find it proven true or false in time. We, the instructors, will come with you on this expedition, but our role will be teaching. Darun will lead. You will follow his orders. We will step in only if things go sideways. Do not expect more from us than we can give. This is your climb, not ours. We will hold the ladder, not climb it for you."

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His eyes hardened like glass catching the moonlight as he went on, his voice lowering further. "Most of us must keep an eye on Kyrrabad while you are below. That balance will be difficult, but not impossible. If it comes down to a threat we cannot tolerate, I will rip a path to the surface and end it before returning to you. I will not let Kyrrabad fall, but neither will I abandon you. That is my oath, sworn in blood and iron. For now, we train, we level, and we hide what we must. What you carry cannot be shown, not yet."

The clearing held its breath. A silence heavy enough to bend branches into stillness. Even the storm overhead seemed to pause, waiting. Vaeliyan let the plan settle into him like a weight he could shape, hammering it into something he could carry. Expedition into the Red Underneath. Level sixty. Class upgrades in the sanctum. The Emperor's test of might waiting at the end of a road he had not yet walked. Each step stretched before him, lit not by choice, but by necessity, like stones across a dark river.

He exhaled slowly, drawing the storm in his chest into something steadier, pulling resolve into his bones. "Then we go," Vaeliyan said finally. His voice steadied into iron. "We get strong. Strong enough to face him, strong enough to face whatever waits below."

Imujin said nothing more. He only nodded, once, like the swing of an executioner's blade. The plan was no longer words but inevitability. The air itself shifted, heavy with intent, the night around them thickening as if the world itself leaned closer to listen. The cadets, waiting at the edge of the sanctum, felt the ripple of decision even without hearing the words. They turned their faces toward the trees, uneasy, as though something vast had just moved beneath the surface of the earth.

They moved at once, the plan setting the clearing into motion. The old story, Mondenkind and the Gate of Stars, had been spoken. That name was no longer a myth but a shadow that lived inside him. Now the next steps stretched ahead: descent into the depths, sharpening through trial, survival earned one scar at a time. What had been legend was now marching orders, and the world would not wait for them to be ready. Every choice narrowed to a single path, and Vaeliyan knew that from this point forward, hesitation would be as deadly as any blade.

A whistle cut through the night, sharp and deliberate, echoing off the trees with a note that carried farther than ordinary sound. Imujin lowered his hand with deliberate finality, the gesture closing the last of their private words. The clearing seemed to exhale around them, the storm-thick air settling into uneasy stillness as the sound faded into the dark.

Vaeliyan frowned, unsettled by the sharpness of the call. "What was that for?"

"Oh, I'm calling them back," Imujin replied, matter-of-fact, as if the sound had been nothing more than routine. "The conversation is over. Alorna should have heard it, even at this distance. She will bring them in."

"Oh. Um. Okay…" Vaeliyan stumbled over his words, caught off guard by the abrupt shift. "What do we do now? I mean, at this point, it seems like all that's left is to let the other cadets know about the expedition."

"Yes," Imujin said, his voice calm but weighted, "but there is also the matter of… other things. I will let them know when they return. There are truths that cannot be spoken twice, even in the same night. I will carry that burden when it is needed."

Vaeliyan nodded, though the knot in his chest did not loosen. It took far longer than he expected for the others to come back. The minutes stretched into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint rustle of branches. When they finally appeared, the cadets looked as though they had been through a battle. Most of them were being carried or half-dragged by the instructors. Through the bond, Vaeliyan felt their weariness like a dull ache, exhaustion so sharp it was nearly pain. It was as if they had been running the entire time they had been gone.

"What happened to them?" Vaeliyan asked, eyes wide.

Imujin glanced toward Alorna. She gave the smallest of nods, her expression unreadable. "Alorna can hear over great distances," he explained. "So can many of the others, though not to her degree. I assume she pushed them to run constantly, the sound of their steps covering our voices. The faster their pace, the less likely stray words could carry. By the time they started collapsing, they had gone far enough. It was not cruelty, but necessity."

Gwen, pale and winded yet still awake, muttered between gasps, "I really wish we didn't have to do that. I assume it would have been a very interesting conversation to hear."

"Yes," Imujin answered evenly, his voice carrying no judgment, "but we spoke of things that cannot be repeated. No matter how much we wish it, the words would not come. Some truths do not allow themselves to be spoken in the presences of other."

"Understandable," Gwen sighed, tilting her head wearily. "But Gramps, why are we here again? Couldn't we have just left?"

"No," Imujin said firmly. His presence filled the clearing like iron. "I needed to let them all know about the coming expedition. But since most of the cadets are unconscious, that task now falls elsewhere." His eyes settled on Vaeliyan, steady and commanding. "Can you take it from here?"

"Yeah," Vaeliyan said, rubbing the back of his neck. His nerves hummed with the weight of responsibility. "When we get back home, I'll unload them into their rooms. Tomorrow, when they wake up, I'll explain what's happening. They'll know what we're walking into."

Imujin nodded, slow and deliberate. "Then be quick about it. Darun returns tomorrow, and he does not wish to waste time. Pack for an extended stay. Prepare the bonds: Styll, Bastard, Momo. All must be ready for the descent into the Red."

"Understood," Vaeliyan said, the words settling like chains around his chest. "Is there anything else I should prepare?"

"If you were planning to use your boon from Steel to return home," Imujin said, voice tightening slightly, "I would suggest waiting until after the expedition."

"I don't think I can," Vaeliyan admitted, lowering his eyes. "I think I need to do it now."

Imujin studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching. Then he inclined his head with the weight of a verdict. "Understood. Be swift. I will delay the expedition until you are whole again. We will not march without you."

"Thank you," Vaeliyan said, exhaling. "That will give us more time to prepare. Hopefully when I return, and I'm fully myself again, the expedition will go well. I want to face it as more than half a man."

"Yes," Imujin agreed, though his expression darkened like a storm gathering on the horizon. "There is one more matter. For those conscious enough to hear: Michael's family is searching for him. They have already reached to House Sarn for direct intervention. It will not be long before pressure arrives."

Theramoor's face tightened, though her voice carried no hesitation. "Even if they do, they will not tell his family anything without compensation. I can make it seem worth far more than they can ever afford."

"That might work," Imujin admitted, though the edge in his tone was sharp, "but it may also drive them to press harder. Families do not loosen their grip when they think they are cheated. Do what you can, Theramoor. Hopefully it does not come to them dragging us back to the front before this year is done. But be ready. Desperation makes even the proud crawl."

The clearing settled into uneasy quiet, the storm muttering softly overhead. The last of the cadets were laid out across the ground, unconscious but breathing steady, their chests rising and falling like the rhythm of weary drums. Tomorrow loomed heavy, close enough to touch, a descent into the Red waiting with open jaws. The night seemed to lean forward with them, listening, holding its breath, as though the world itself knew what was about to begin.

When Vaeliyan finally got everybody into bed at his estate, the halls were heavy with the sound of exhausted breathing. One by one, he carried the cadets into their rooms, laying them down, feeling the bond between them like a soft hum of overworked nerves.

Jurpat was waiting by the doorway to Vaeliyan's own room, arms crossed, worry flickering across his face. "You're sure about this?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not sure about anything," Vaeliyan admitted, lowering his voice. "But I have to use the boon now to go back to Mara. If I wait, I may not get the chance. I'm hoping I'll still be able to prepare while I'm there, but I'm not certain how it will work. I need you all to watch me. Make sure my body doesn't do anything strange while I'm gone. I'm hoping it will still be me running it, but I can't be sure."

Jurpat nodded solemnly. "We'll watch you. Whatever happens, we'll keep you safe here."

Vaeliyan entered his room, the air cool and still. Styll and Bastard padded in behind him, silent shadows at his heels. He sank down onto the bed, pulling them close, holding on to their warmth like an anchor. "Stay with me," he murmured.

He closed his eyes and called out to Umdar.

The world around him dissolved. The estate, the bed, the breathing of his companions all fell away. He was standing in an absence of space, a place with no sky and no ground, only a weightless dark. And from within that void came a voice made of dust and lost time.

"You are ready," Umdar said.

Vaeliyan lifted his head. "Yes. But I also have questions. I need to ask them."

"Go on," Umdar said, the words soft but endless.

"Are all… is the reason…" Vaeliyan faltered. "This is harder than I thought. I feel like I've already gotten a lot of the answers, but I know there are more you could tell me. Do you know what the Gate of Stars is?"

Umdar's presence shifted, heavy as a mountain. "I do. But I am not allowed to answer the next question you are about to ask. I am not allowed to tell you what it is. It is against the rules, and not one I can break without being unbound from reality."

"Who is binding you to this?" Vaeliyan asked.

"That is another rule I cannot break," Umdar replied. "Another thing I cannot say. There are many things we all wish we could tell you, but it would break the rule and shatter the world. We cannot afford that."

Vaeliyan clenched his fists. "So, you won't answer?"

"I cannot," Umdar said, and for the first time his voice carried a weight of sorrow. "But I will take you to Mara now. And as those two who are part of you, they shall come with you. This is not a boon I would normally give. It is not a boon at all. It is an extension of my will to give you something as your benefactor. I will spend more of my power to take you, all three of you, home. And Vaeliyan will stay here. Be ready."

Vaeliyan nodded in ascent.

The void folded inward. Warren could feel two selves at once, himself, and Vaeliyan, for a heartbeat. Then the tether snapped, and he opened his eyes.

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