The faded words in the old library book burned in Evan's mind like acid. "Purge." "Razed." "Scattered or destroyed." Luna's accusations were no longer just venomous claims; they were corroborated, however thinly, by historical whispers. The image of Yale Leaf, the stern but protective grandfather, fractured under the weight of "necessary action" and "casualties unknown." The dissonance within the Innocent Heart Core was a physical ache, a constant tremor threatening the control Archmage Solan had warned was paramount.
He couldn't stay. Not trapped within the Institute's gilded cage of scrutiny and Oliviera's disdain, not with the truth festering like an untreated wound. He needed answers, and they lay leagues away, in the bamboo groves of Arcadia. He needed to look Yale Leaf in the eye and demand the story of the Verdant Vale.
Decision crystallized within him, cold and hard. "We leave, Zander," he stated, packing the Nine Heavens Jade Pendant with swift, deliberate movements. "Tonight. For Arcadia."
Zander gave a single, slow nod. "The path calls. Shadows deepen. We answer." He began gathering their meager supplies – traveling cloaks, water skins, the remaining coin. His movements were efficient, predatory, already attuned to the necessities of flight.
Leaving the Institute, however, wouldn't be simple. They were under probation. Sharon, Oliviera, the Council – they all had eyes on him. The gates were warded and guarded. Evan's mind raced. He recalled the complex wards Sharon had navigated to reach the Instrument Vaults. He remembered the older, less-trafficked corridors near the Starry Dome. The Institute was vast; there had to be ways out unseen, especially for someone who could potentially resonate with its ancient foundations.
As dusk painted the Annex courtyard in long shadows, a sharp knock echoed on the door. Not Sharon's precise tap. Harder. Authoritative.
Evan exchanged a glance with Zander. The big man melted into the deeper shadows near the window, becoming near-invisible. Evan opened the door.
A figure stood there, not in Institute robes, but in practical, dark travelling leathers. His face was weathered, framed by streaks of grey in his dark hair, and his eyes held the sharp, assessing gaze of a seasoned operative. Evan recognized him instantly – Captain Martino, the Polis garrison commander who had given him passage and coin.
"Martino?" Evan breathed, stunned. "What are you doing here?"
Martino stepped inside without invitation, closing the door swiftly behind him. His eyes scanned the small room, lingering for a fraction of a second on the shadow where Zander stood, then fixed on Evan. "Keeping tabs on interesting investments, Young," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Heard about your... dramatic entrance exam. The Founder Sigils. Quite the splash." He pulled a sealed message tube from his belt. "This came through secure channels. Marked urgent. For you."
Evan took the tube, his fingers fumbling slightly. Who would send him an urgent message via Martino? He broke the seal and pulled out a single sheet of paper. The handwriting was strong, familiar, yet the strokes were rushed, jagged with uncharacteristic haste. It was Yale Leaf's hand.
Evan,
Danger closes. Trust no one at the Institute. Luna Thorne speaks poisoned truth wrapped in lies. The Vale... it was not what she claims. But the hunters are real. They come for you. For what you carry within. They smell the Heart Core's resonance. Zander knows the darkness they serve. LEAVE MILAN. NOW. Do not return to Arcadia. It is compromised. Go to ground. Find the "Sage's Echo" in the Whispering Peaks. Quentin will find you there. Survive. Trust only Zander and your own heart.
- Yale Leaf
The message hit Evan like a physical blow. Yale Leaf confirming Luna wasn't entirely lying about the Vale, but claiming her truth was poisoned? Warning of hunters drawn to the Heart Core? Warning him away from Arcadia, the one place he thought he could find answers? Directing him to some hidden refuge with Quentin? And the chilling phrase: "Zander knows the darkness they serve."
He looked up, his eyes wide with shock and confusion, meeting Martino's steady gaze. "How... how did you get this?"
"Fast courier. Paid well for discretion," Martino said simply. "Your grandfather has... resources. And debts owed." He glanced towards Zander's shadow. "He wasn't wrong about the hunters. Polis Garrison intercepted coded messages. Talk of a 'Resonant Source' awakening at the Institute. 'Priority retrieval or termination.' They're coming, Young. Soon. Oliviera's been asking pointed questions about your 'unique energy signature' – too pointed. He might already be compromised or just a useful idiot."
Martino's words confirmed Yale Leaf's warning with terrifying immediacy. The Institute wasn't just a place of learning; it had become a trap. Oliviera's hostility wasn't just academic disdain; it could be a beacon for these hunters.
"Where are the Whispering Peaks?" Evan asked urgently, folding the message and tucking it away.
"Northern border of the Milanese Empire. Wild country. Bandit clans, rogue mages, worse." Martino pulled a small, intricately folded map from another pouch. "Here. Marked the safest route... or the least deadly. Sage's Echo is a ruin, ancient. Supposedly has defensive wards, but who knows if they still work." He handed Evan the map and a heavy pouch that clinked with coin. "Travel light. Move fast. The North Road Gate is watched. Use the old Founders' Passage – beneath the Starry Dome. Your resonance might key it open. Exit is near the city's eastern wall, past the tanneries. Smells awful, less guarded."
Martino turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Good luck, Sovereign. The world needs melodies like yours. Don't let the discord win." With a final nod, he slipped out as silently as he arrived.
Evan stood frozen for a heartbeat, the map and coin pouch heavy in his hands, Yale Leaf's warning and Martino's confirmation ringing in his ears. The hunters. The compromised Institute. The poisoned truth of the Vale. The desperate flight into the unknown. The path had unraveled completely.
He looked at Zander, who had emerged from the shadows. His amethyst eyes held a grim understanding, a flicker of that ancient darkness Yale Leaf had mentioned. "The shadow stirs," Zander rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "We run. We fight. We survive."
Evan Young clutched the Nine Heavens Jade Pendant. The time for study, for probation, for seeking answers within safe walls was over. The hunters were coming. The Sovereign of Strings had a new melody to play: the song of survival. He strapped the zither to his back, his resolve hardening into cold steel.
"To the Starry Dome," Evan said, his voice low and steady. "We leave tonight."