Cassandre stepped forward, her gaze gleaming with fierce determination, her voice cutting clearly through the cold night air.
"You seem to underestimate the true weight of this situation, Archon. Let me be perfectly clear: in the name of the Academy of the Golden Tree, these individuals are coming with us."
The Archon's gesture froze mid-motion, suspended in a rare moment of hesitation. The implications of opposing such a prestigious institution appeared to slice through his thoughts with sudden clarity.
Finally, a calculating smile curled his lips.
"The Academy of the Golden Tree, you say? What an unexpected surprise," he purred, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Forgive my lapse in courtesy,, these are dark times, and I failed to immediately recognize the renowned Cassandre Délviane."
Cassandre remained unmoved, unimpressed by the Archon's flattery.
"If you're familiar with our Academy," she replied with composed chill, "then you also know that opposing its representatives brings consequences far more severe than the petty administrative matters you're hiding behind."
The Archon inclined his head slightly, his smile widening with the polished ease of a practiced diplomat.
"Of course," he said carefully. "Far be it from me to spark a needless conflict."
He made a slow, sweeping gesture to his soldiers, signaling them to lower their weapons."Perhaps we might find a more… reasonable resolution."
Cassandre kept her eyes locked on the Archon, scrutinizing every nuance of his body language.
"And what resolution would that be?" she asked, wary.
The Archon spread his arms in a placating gesture, his face adopting a sincere, but still cautious, expression.
"You are free to leave, of course," he said, "in the name of friendship and peace between our respective institutions. However, I do hope the Academy will look favorably on any future candidates we might send your way."
Cassandre gave a slight nod, recognizing that this diplomatic exchange was the best outcome they could hope for.
"That sounds acceptable, Archon," she said, her voice firm and clear.
"We will review any candidate you submit… carefully."
"Excellent," the Archon said, clearly pleased with himself.
As the group turned and began to move away, Gaël suddenly felt a chill brush across his thoughts, a ghostly presence brushing the edge of his mind. Then came a whisper, intangible yet piercing, laden with a bitter irony he knew all too well.
"I must admit… I didn't expect a boy like you to survive Brann's teachings. And yet, here you are, alive.Tell me… has Brann truly fallen?"
Nyx's voice, cold, curious, sincere, echoed in his mind like the whisper of a blade.
Gaël's steps slowed ever so slightly, his mind troubled by the dark predator's question. A dull ache spread through his chest as the memory of the abyss returned with searing clarity.
"I don't know..." he replied inwardly, his inner voice low and heavy with doubt. "But I refuse to believe it's truly over."
"Interesting," Nyx murmured, with a hint of amused provocation. "But don't delude yourself too much, boy."
A faint shiver ran down Gaël's spine. He was all too aware of the disturbing truth buried in Nyx's cryptic words.
"In any case, congratulations, kid!"
"For what?"
A chill traced Gaël's back as he felt the invisible grin behind Nyx's voice.
"For taking a step forward on such a treacherous path!"
"How would you even know I've progressed?" Gaël asked, unsettled.
"Ah, kid..." Nyx sighed with mocking delight. "When a Brother advances along the Severance, every creature touched by the Umbra feels it from leagues away. It's like a lightning bolt in the night. Our Mother senses it… and she calls her children to deal with it."
Gaël swallowed hard, unease rising in his throat. "You mean… you're going to attack me?"
"Me?" Nyx laughed inside his mind, dry and evasive. "You're far too entertaining for me to get rid of. No… it's the others you should worry about. The Altered ones. Pathetic little things, not smart, but numerous. Very numerous."
"How many?"
The whisper came lower now, cruel and almost tender.
"Enough to make this interesting. And trust me… they're already on their way."
At those words, a dreadful sound echoed from the depths of the Rift, a low, rumbling growl thick with menace and shadow, sending a shiver through everyone present. The Lutech Archon and his soldiers, nearly gone, froze mid-step, the fear stark on their faces.
Kaëlan, who had just reached Gaël, perhaps to greet him, or punch him for leaving him behind, suddenly stopped cold.
"What was that?"
Gaël turned toward the dark breach, where twisted shapes were now emerging, Infested, their limbs warped by Umbra's corruption, creeping slowly from the gloom, their eyes burning with primal hunger. At their head came something larger, a hulking Altered, its body warped and muscular, misshapen by Umbra's rot. It advanced in grotesque contortions.
Rai darted upward, climbing the rooftops for vantage. Kaien, Kaëlan, and Cassandre were already pulling back from the Rift.
"Prepare for battle!" the Archon shouted, drawing his radiant weapon. His soldiers instantly formed up in a disciplined defensive line. Spotlights swiveled toward the breach. From the turrets, someone screamed:
"The horde is coming!"
Gaël drew a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside him before it shattered his focus. The true strength of the horde didn't lie in the power of any one creature, but in their overwhelming numbers.
He recalled the teachings of the Severance, seeking the serenity he needed despite Nyx's mocking whispers.
"So, little Brother," Nyx whispered, his voice vibrating with eager anticipation, "are you ready to face what you've set into motion? Aren't you afraid you'll become a threat to those around you?"
Gaël inhaled deeply, then answered in a voice strengthened by newfound resolve, one hand raised toward the black sky:
"I'm not a threat, Nyx. I'm the answer to your Mother."
And without hesitation, he surged forward, closing the distance between him and the Altered in a heartbeat. His blade sliced through the air, a line of pure intent.
The Altered countered, shockingly fast. But Gaël, now guided by something deep within, did not waver.
He cut.