The last echoes of the strategy meeting faded as Queen Sofie straightened, her eyes sweeping across the gathered Black Knights and Demonfires. The air had thickened with certainty, plans laid bare, the battlefield chosen.
"This concludes the meeting," she said, her voice clear and final. "Tyler, Diego, Li… guide our guests. Make sure they're shown the terrain, every inch of it."
The three nodded in sync, already rising to their feet. Tyler began locking down the strategy grid, Diego stretched with a cracking shoulder, and Li pulled her holopad close, already patching paths into the facility's inner network.
Slacovich, however, didn't wait for pleasantries.
He was already up, sliding his long coat over his shoulders, his eyes distant and sharp.
Sofie caught the sudden tension and moved quickly, the steel in her movements betraying the calm on her face. "Slacovich."
He didn't turn, just muttered low, "Nicholson."
Her steps matched his without hesitation. "General Richard," she said without looking back, "you're with me."
The old warrior was already moving, silent and dutiful.
They didn't bother with the private elevator this time. They needed speed.
Sun University
The sharp scent of sterilizers and burnt ozone filled the air. It wasn't a hospital, but the University's research wing had its makeshift infirmary, enough for sudden, strange cases.
Nicholson stood rigid near the door, his usual collected demeanor replaced by quiet urgency.
Carolina sat near the small couch, cradling Ania in her arms. The child's skin was flushed, sweat streaming down her face as she twisted weakly, her breath shallow, fevered. Her veins shimmered faintly under her skin, like light trapped beneath the surface.
"A few hours ago," Nicholson said without needing prompt, "she was fine. Then she collapsed mid-sentence."
"She's burning up," Carolina whispered, her voice tight. "But there's no pathogen… no infection. It's not biological."
Sofie dropped to her knees beside Ania, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. The girl's lips moved, but no sound came.
"I can feel something pressing," Slacovich said, stepping closer. "Like… a force clawing through her soul."
Sofie looked up at General Richard. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
Richard didn't blink. "The ring. It reacted. This isn't random. Whatever woke… it's connected to her."
Just then, Ania jolted, eyes snapping open. A burst of searing heat flared through the room, sending papers flying and the lights flickering. Carolina held tight, not flinching.
But it wasn't just Ania.
From a canvas left in the corner of Nicholson's office, an old painting where a trapped soul awakened, the air began to warp. The image within it, a twisted field of color and shadow, pulsed.
Yureiv Lockhart.
His voice echoed faintly from inside the sealed art. "Enough waiting... Let me out."
Sofie stood slowly, the ring now faintly humming against her skin.
This wasn't just a fever.
It was a signal.
A warning.
And the seal was listening.
Ania stirred violently in Carolina's arms, her fever climbing in waves. Her lips trembled, then parted with a single, desperate word.
"Yureiv…"
Carolina tensed. "She's speaking---"
Again, louder this time, fractured through clenched teeth.
"Yureiv… Yureiv…"
Nicholson's brows furrowed. "She's fixated. That name----" Nicholson, froze a bit, then looks back. "It was Yureiv all along, why didn't I get it the first time? We've been studying, observing him since that day. But why did we forget about him?"
"Wait.... She's been calling his name since earlier?" Carolina also seemed confused.
"It seems like there's some kind of interference, affecting both of your memories." In a calm demeanor, General Richard stepped forward looking at Ania.
"Interference? Like how?" Nicholson asked even more confused.
"We will know the answer, if we figure out who that Yureiv is." General Richard's remarks clicked something on Sofie.
Sofie's eyes shot toward the far end of the room. How could she also forget.
"The painting." she exclaimed.
Slacovich was already moving. His frame cut through the haze of heat as he crossed to the corner, gripping the worn frame with both hands. The canvas groaned, almost alive, as if recognizing the name spoken into the world again.
Ania writhed harder.
"Yureiv!"
Sofie rose just as Slacovich brought the painting into the center of the infirmary, placing it close to Ania. As soon as he did, something shifted in the air, a sudden calm swallowing the chaos. The temperature dropped. Ania stilled.
And on Sofie's hand, the Ring of Seal dimmed to a slow, pulsing glow. Steady. Watchful.
General Richard, arms crossed behind his back, studied the interaction without blinking. His voice, when it came, was soft and measured.
"The bond is awakening," he murmured. "Threads pulling through the seams."
Sofie glanced toward him, a question forming on her tongue.
But he only offered a faint tilt of his head.
"I've seen this kind of rhythm before," he added, "though not in this age."
He said no more.
Not yet.
But in the flicker of that ancient ring, in the pulse that echoed between the child and the sealed painting, everything was stirring.
And everything was tied.
The room had quieted, but not in peace.
A tension still coiled in the air like a held breath.
Within the canvas, colors shifted. The painted scenery pulsed gently, and from the depths of it, a voice came, soft, remorseful.
"I'm sorry," Yureiv said. "I didn't mean to hurt Ania. The air inside here… it's suffocating. Something is trying to gnaw at me. It feels like I'm being watched, torn from the inside."
The tremble in his voice carried through the room. It wasn't just sound. It was panic.
Slacovich narrowed his eyes, stepping forward. His fists were already clenched at his sides.
"I thought the bond you had with Ania wouldn't harm her," he said, voice low but firm. "That you could speak freely now without straining her body. What changed, Yureiv?"
"I didn't mean to," Yureiv answered, desperate now. "Three nights ago… a memory resurfaced. It came from Queen Nimpha's portrait inside the painting I'm trapped in. I was dragged into that moment, and somehow, Ania was too."
He paused, breathless even in that liminal plane.
"What I remember clearly," he continued, "was her reading a note… It said 'the experiment was a success.' I don't know what it means… but that's all I saw."
A faint shudder passed through the canvas as he spoke again.
"Since then… black mist has been leaking inside here. It's choking, like smoke you can't escape. It won't kill me, but it's suffocating. And it hasn't stopped."
At that, Sofie's eyes narrowed.
Three nights ago.
That was when they fought with the reapers in their estate.
The same night Harry and Ania were seeking refuge in Nicholson's safehouse.
The painting… it was in Nicholson's office.
Then Ania shouldn't have been near it, unless…
Her mind turned the pieces over like a puzzle too fragile to rush. The timing, the bond, the pulse of the Seal, it all felt too exact to dismiss.
Sofie drew a breath. "Where's Harry?"
Carolina stood up without question. "I'll get him."
She left quickly, the sound of her boots echoing against sterile tile as the room returned to silence.
Carolina returned moments later, and with her came Harry, still in his lab coat, sleeves rolled up and hair slightly tousled as if he hadn't stopped moving since the alert. He stepped inside, immediately sensing the tension thick in the air. His gaze swept the room, past Nicholson, past the painting, until it landed on Sofie.
"You called for me?" he asked, coming straight to her side.
Sofie didn't waste a second. "When you were heading to Nicholson's place three nights ago, where did you go first?"
Harry blinked. "Here. I stopped at the University before going to the safehouse. There were hunters scattered all over the city. I figured this would be safer ground before heading into hiding."
Her voice lowered slightly. "Did Ania leave your side?"
Harry nodded, slowly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Yes. She said she was going to Yureiv the moment we arrived… Why?"
He glanced around again, really looked this time, and his expression tightened as his eyes landed on Ania, still pale and recovering in the infirmary bed.
"What's going on?" he asked, stepping toward her.
Sofie didn't answer immediately. Her eyes dropped to the floor, the threads of realization knotting together in her mind.
"Then it all makes sense," she murmured, barely above a whisper.
Everyone went still.
Nicholson exchanged a glance with Richard. Slacovich, arms crossed, narrowed his eyes.
"What makes sense, Sofie?" he asked, impatience threading through his voice. "Say it."
She looked up, meeting his stare. "I just realized something. That night… when I called for the Shadow Guards, they spoke."
Richard's head tilted slightly. "Spoke?" he repeated. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, what do you mean?"
"They spoke, General," Sofie repeated, firmer this time. "Not through the usual way. Not through the bond. They literally spoke. I heard them."
"They kneeled before me," she continued, "and instead of staying silent like they always do, they just talked. Their voices were real. Out loud."
A beat of silence passed. Then Slacovich asked, "You think… the memory that resurfaced in the painting… triggered that awakening?"
"I don't know," Sofie admitted, brushing her fingers lightly over the Ring of Seal. "But we can't call this a coincidence."
Even General Richard looked visibly shaken, if only for a moment. He stood straight, hands clasped behind him, and stared at the shadows pooling faintly beneath the walls.
"In all my years," he said slowly, " since the first time they started appearing, no Shadow Guard has ever spoken. Not even once."
Sofie nodded. "That's why it stuck with me. I should've brought it up sooner, but everything happened so fast…"
"And now," Nicholson added, looking toward the canvas where Yureiv remained sealed, "it's not just the shadows reacting."
"No," Sofie said. "It's everything."