The morning after the storm felt unnaturally calm. Jake—or Ashix, as he was beginning to accept—sat in the library, wrapped in a blanket, the pendant still warm against his chest. The house felt different now, like it had exhaled after years of holding its breath.
Across from him sat the hooded woman, now with her cloak pulled back. Her name was Elira, and she had once been a guardian too—until the Order fell.
"You're probably wondering why your parents never told you," she said gently, sipping from a mug of black tea. "They were protecting you. From the Order. From him."
Jake's brows furrowed. "Him? Who?"
Elira set the mug down. "His name is Kael-Thorne—a former guardian turned traitor. He seeks to gather the Seven Anchors—ancient relics tied to the balance of the world. If he finds them all… the world as you know it will end."
Jake swallowed hard. "And let me guess… this pendant is one of them?"
Elira nodded. "The Anchor of Spirit. It chose you. Which means the others will be drawn to you now… or to destroy you."
Before Jake could respond, a loud crash came from the hallway—bookshelves falling, glass shattering.
"Elira," Jake whispered, rising slowly, "we're not alone anymore."
She stood, her eyes glowing faintly. "No. We're not."
The lights flickered.
Jake's heart pounded as he moved behind Elira, who was already stepping cautiously toward the shattered doorway. A cold wind blew through the house, carrying the scent of something ancient… and wrong.
"Elira," Jake whispered, "what is that?"
She didn't answer. Her eyes had gone sharp, scanning the shadows.
Then—it stepped into the light.
The creature was humanoid, but stretched and distorted, like a puppet made of smoke and bone. Its eyes glowed with a dull crimson fire, and in its hand was a jagged black blade pulsing with corruption.
"A shade assassin," Elira muttered. "Kael-Thorne knows you've awakened."
The creature lunged.
Elira raised her hand, and a flash of white light erupted from her palm, slamming the shade into the far wall. But it didn't fall. It reformed mid-air, twisting its limbs like liquid shadow.
Jake could only watch, frozen, until the pendant at his chest began to pulse violently—responding to the danger.
"Jake!" Elira shouted. "Call its power. Focus on the pendant—feel it!"
He grabbed the pendant, instinctively closing his eyes. His mind went still.
And then—fire.
A wave of golden flame burst from his chest, engulfing the hallway and striking the shade dead on. It screeched, twisting in agony as the magic burned away its form, until all that remained was ash and silence.
Jake dropped to one knee, breathing hard. "What… what was that?"
Elira looked at him with new eyes. Awe. Worry. Respect.
"That," she said slowly, "was only a fraction of who you are."
Jake looked down at the glowing pendant in his hand and whispered to himself, "What happens now?"
Elira turned toward the shattered window, where the storm had finally begun to clear. "Now?" she said. "Now we run. Because that wasn't the only one—and Kael is coming."