The sun had only just begun to crest over the jagged ridges of Emberfall, spilling golden light through drifting ash and ember-tinted leaves. The heat of battle still lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of scorched bark and blood. In the shattered glade where chaos had reigned, silence had returned—unsteady and brittle.
Rylan stood over the unconscious form of the Autumn Mystic, his breath shallow, his fingers trembling slightly around the hilt of his staff. Beside him, Blaze knelt beside Grace, who winced as she clutched her side. Riley hovered near her, hand on his shortblade, scanning the clearing as if expecting the battle to reignite at any moment.
"We barely made it," Blaze murmured, helping Grace to sit up against a fallen log. "That thing... it almost—"
"We weren't lucky," Rylan interrupted, his voice steady despite the weariness that tugged at his limbs. "We were ready."
From the chest of the Mystic, a single petal began to float—amber and crimson, flickering with autumn flame. It pulsed gently, as if breathing. Rylan raised a hand and caught it, feeling the warmth surge through his skin and into his bones. The pulse spread outwards, bathing the clearing in a soft golden glow.
Grace's wound sealed itself with a shimmer of light. The ash stirred, and life began to return to the glade—wilted trees lifting their branches, fallen leaves unfurling as though rewinding time.
But even the magic couldn't mend the heaviness in the air.
Riley stood slowly. "Two petals left. Joy and James, Frost and Rant... We need to find them."
Rylan nodded, slipping the Autumn Petal into a protective crystal vial. "Then we move. No rest. Not yet."
Far away, back at the Academy, clouds gathered unnaturally over the highest spire.
The Headmaster stood at its peak, robes flaring in the wind. Below, in the arcane-glass medical wing, the unconscious boy remained motionless—his skin pale, his breath slow, but something was changing.
A network of glowing red veins snaked across his forearms and neck, spreading like roots. The lines pulsed, forming sigils the healers couldn't decipher. They shimmered faintly, then flared—briefly revealing a deeper hue beneath the red.
Violet.
Then, his eyes flickered open.
Just for a moment.
Still red. Still glowing. But now, swirling with a duality that made the Headmaster's breath catch.
"They've begun to wake the gate," he muttered.
In the wild expanse of Springlight Valley, Pair Three was locked in combat.
Joy and James had never seen a place so alive. Giant flowers bloomed in slow, pulsating waves, their petals dripping pollen that shimmered like stars. Crystalline butterflies soared overhead, and vines coiled lazily around trees that hummed with arcane life.
But the beauty was a veil. A trap.
The Spring Mystic emerged from the center of a great blossom—towering and regal. Part centaur, part forest spirit, its body was a swirl of bark, moss, and living energy. Blossoming antlers rose from its head like a crown, and its emerald eyes watched with patient fury.
"We don't want to fight," Joy called. Her voice trembled, but her stance was firm. "We're trying to save someone."
The Mystic tilted its head.
"Then prove it."
The ground convulsed, and vines exploded upward, snapping like whips. Joy rolled to the side, her shadowbeast flowing from her silhouette like living ink, slashing at the vines with claws of darkness. James raised his hands, forming obsidian barriers that shattered under the Mystic's strikes.
"We need a plan," he shouted.
"I'm working on it!" Joy shouted back. "Keep it distracted!"
The Mystic moved with elegance, like wind flowing through a forest. Its steps summoned tremors, and each breath carried spores that dazzled the senses.
Joy narrowed her eyes. "Wait for my signal. Then bind it."
James nodded, retreating behind a blooming tree that tried to grab his cloak.
Far to the south, in the infernal dunes of the Summer Expanse, Pair Four faced an entirely different terror.
The land burned with unnatural heat. Rivers of lava carved through red sand, and crystal flame-trees radiated searing light. Frost and Rant moved cautiously, cloaked in enchantments that barely protected them from the heat.
Without warning, the sands erupted.
A colossal serpent burst forth—its body forged of obsidian and magma, its scales shimmering with molten runes. Its eyes burned like twin suns.
The Summer Mystic.
Rant dove forward without hesitation, his Soulbound beast roaring as it hurled waves of water at the monster.
"Rant!" Frost shouted, scrambling after him. "Wait for me, you reckless idiot!"
Steam hissed violently as water struck lava. The Mystic roared, the sound shaking the heavens.
Frost muttered a spell under her breath. "Please don't get yourself killed."
Back in Emberfall, Rylan and Blaze helped Grace and Riley mount their Soulbound beasts. Though wounded, Grace looked stronger now, her posture steadier. The crystal vial holding the Autumn Petal pulsed softly at Rylan's side.
Rylan turned to Blaze. "We ride to Springlight Valley. If we go now, we can get there before sundown."
Blaze nodded but frowned slightly. "These Mystics... they weren't just summoned. They were drawn to the boy. Or what's inside him."
Grace glanced back. "You think he's... connected?"
Riley spoke quietly. "I saw something. The sigils on him—they're older than anything I've studied. Even the Mystic markings. I think they're part of the Forgotten Pact."
A chill passed through them.
The Forgotten Pact—an ancient legend of a war between light and shadow, a magic so volatile it nearly tore the world apart. The power had been sealed, lost to time.
Until now.
The sun was low by the time they reached Springlight Valley.
From the cliffs above, they saw the battle unfolding below. Joy was darting through waves of grasping vines, her shadowbeast shielding her from blasts of pollen-light. James stood firm behind a glimmering shield, pushing himself to his magical limits.
"Now!" Joy screamed.
James slammed his palms into the ground. A dome of shadow burst forth, trapping the Mystic's hind legs. The creature staggered—and that was all Joy needed.
She launched a spell of pure void energy, straight at its chest.
The Mystic roared in fury and pain.
Then, Rylan and Blaze joined the fight.
They surged down the slope. Blaze leapt from his mount mid-gallop, lightning crackling around him. His bolt struck the Mystic in the side, and Rylan followed, binding it in spiraling chains of light, spirit, and shadow.
The Mystic fought against the bonds... then slowly stilled.
"Worthy," it rumbled, and petals lifted from its body—soft pink and gold, glowing with healing energy.
Rylan reached forward and caught the Spring Petal. Its warmth buzzed in his chest like a heartbeat.
Later that night, the group made camp at the edge of the valley.
There was no fire. The petals glowed faintly from inside Rylan's pack, casting colored light across their weary faces.
Joy stirred the grass with a stick. "Three down. One to go."
"And one very angry fire serpent," James added.
Blaze sat with his back to a stone, arms crossed. "They'll be okay."
"Frost and Rant are strong," Rylan agreed. "But something else worries me."
He looked at the petals. "I think we're not just collecting them. We're unlocking something."
Joy tilted her head. "Like... what?"
Before he could answer, the wind shifted.
It blew cold and sharp through the valley. The petals pulsed once—then dimmed. The trees rustled, and a figure stepped from the shadows.
Cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a hood, the figure stood still as stone. The air around them shimmered with unnatural pressure.
"You're meddling with what should have stayed buried," the figure said, voice low and distorted. "The petals. The mystics. The boy. They were not meant to be found."
Riley stepped forward, sword drawn. "Who are you?"
The figure raised a hand. A gust of wind swept through the camp, extinguishing all light. Rylan staggered, shielding the petals.
When the wind faded, the figure was gone.
Only a single mark remained—burned into the earth where they had stood.
A perfect circle, lined with thorns.
And at its center... a flower. Half aflame. Half bleeding.
Rylan stared at it, heart racing.
Something ancient had awakened.
And it was watching.