The forest didn't spit them out.
It released them — like a secret that had decided it could be whispered at last.
The moment Karl stepped through the shimmering boundary of the Trial Grounds, a strange calm settled over him. His breath, still heavy from the last encounter, eased. The pressure in his chest loosened. The hum of the Veil mark dulled to a gentle rhythm.
They had passed.
And ahead of them…
Veyhelm.
The city opened up like a dream drawn into reality.
Towers of pale stone coiled upward into the clouds, their spires crowned with floating rings of crystal and flame. Bridges shaped from arcanized metal spanned rivers that glittered with mana-rich currents. In the distance, a leviathan airship drifted between two high arcs, its hull layered with runes and warding sigils.
Valdros Academy sat like a crown atop it all — nestled into the city's uppermost ring, suspended by pillars of light and old enchantments older than most living kingdoms.
"Is this real?" Nyra whispered, stepping beside Karl.
Even she didn't have a joke ready.
Kael let out a low whistle. "This place makes Asterwall look like a dirt pile."
Karl didn't answer.
But he couldn't look away.
So this… is where it all truly begins.
They followed a marble pathway across a shallow bridge that shimmered like water suspended in time. Other groups were beginning to arrive through different gates — some staggered, others walking confidently.
And that's when Karl saw them.
The others.
A tall elf girl — her skin like smooth birch bark, hair a cascade of woven vines that shimmered with ambient light. Every movement she made sent small glyphs flaring across her bare arms.
A beastkin student — possibly tiger-born — his shoulders broad, furred tail wrapped in golden bands, eyes wild and alert. His ears twitched at every sound. His breath steamed even in the soft air.
A draconic-blooded youth — pale gray scales running up one side of his face, faint horns tucked beneath a deep-cowled hood, and eyes that gleamed gold beneath shadow.
Others, too.
Winged races. Aquatic-born. Even a quiet shadowling near the back whose outline flickered unnaturally.
Nyra tilted her head.
"…Guess we're not as unique as we thought."
"We're not," Nareth said flatly.
"Not yet."
Once the students were organized, instructors arrived to begin orientation. Karl barely listened. Something about housing rotation, meal tokens, spellfield regulations, and curfews.
But his focus drifted.
To the city.
To the mark.
And most of all… to the weight gathering in his chest.
Raiven.
He could feel it.
Growing.
Evolving.
Watching with him.
That night, their temporary dorms were placed along the edge of the Academy's outer arc. Karl's window faced the city's middle ring — a sprawling maze of merchant spires, cultural sanctums, and warcaster forges that never seemed to sleep.
He stood there for a long time, the wind brushing his hair, his pendant clinking faintly against the glass.
Then it happened.
A flicker.
Not from the sky.
From behind him.
A shimmer in the reflection.
Karl turned.
Raiven was there.
Not fully. Not physical.
But close.
A silhouette of shadow and soul — wolf-shaped, elegant, wrapped in faint pulses of violet-blue light. Its wings curled protectively behind its form, and its two glowing eyes burned with quiet purpose.
Not anger.
Not hunger.
Loyalty.
Karl didn't move. He didn't need to.
He just whispered:
"You're not just my power, are you?"
Raiven didn't respond. But the air around them pulsed — once, then twice. A heartbeat from something ancient, something bound.
The Soulbind wasn't coming.
It was arriving.
Outside, the city lights danced. Inside, the Veil whispered.
And the world kept turning — not knowing that something older than prophecy had just taken one step closer to waking.