A red bolt of lightning streaked through the dense forest, weaving effortlessly between the blue trees and leaping over moss-covered streams. The air crackled with energy as the bolt twisted and turned. Floating moonstones hovered silently in the distance, their ethereal glow resembling watchful eyes. Beyond them, a colossal wall of living trees intertwined with glowing runes stood as a sentinel to Eden's entrance.

At the gate, a panther-like man clad in gleaming armor stood tall, a large shield resting against his side and a spear firmly in hand. A stone moon hovered beside him, its surface shimmering with soft light. His ears twitched, sensing a disturbance in the forest ahead.

"A high concentration of magic has been detected south of the capital," the moon whispered in a soothing voice.

The panther nodded, his gaze fixed on the treeline. "Yes, I'm aware. It doesn't seem to be approaching, but I'll inform the Sentinels of the Legion."

"Papers, please," came a curt voice from a shorter, dark-skinned elf in similar guard attire. A silver falcon crest gleamed on her chest as she addressed the occupants of a carriage halted at the gate. The carriage was drawn by an unfamiliar rock creature, its massive form unsettling.

An elderly, light-skinned elf with gray hair, a beard, and visible scars fumbled through his belongings, searching for the requested documents.

"Come on, old man. We don't have all day," the elf guard snapped. "We might have to detain you for bringing that beast here."

The rock creature stomped its foot, causing the ground to tremble slightly.

The panther sighed, thinking to himself, By Atheria, Kalean is escalating things again. These new recruits get a taste of power and become troublesome. He shook his head, stepping forward to intervene.

“Is there a problem here, Kalean?” Blackthorn asked as he stepped forward, his tone firm but controlled.

“Yes, sir—Blackthorn,” Kalean replied quickly, straightening her posture. “This man doesn’t seem to have his papers.”

Blackthorn turned his gaze to the old elf, who met his eyes calmly. “Is that true?”

“It seems I may have lost them in my travels,” the old man said, his voice gravelly but even.

Blackthorn nodded slowly. “If so, we’ll need to conduct a search to ensure there’s nothing dangerous in your carriage. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” the old elf replied. “You’re just doing your duty. Look around.”

With a nod of thanks, Blackthorn gestured to Kalean. “Stand watch outside.”

Kalean obeyed, though her expression twisted in faint irritation.

Blackthorn stepped into the carriage—and immediately felt the odd shift. The space was… larger. Dimly lit, yet vast. Spatial runes, he thought, and advanced ones at that.

Books lay stacked on shelves and scattered on the floor—thick tomes of magic, alchemical theories, and maps of unknown lands. Scrolls rustled faintly as he passed, and a rack held documents labeled in languages he didn’t recognize.

But his eyes were drawn to the weapons. A bow mounted on the far wall shimmered with a green light, carved with runes etched in spirals he’d only seen referenced in restricted texts. It pulsed faintly with a sentient energy.

Then he saw it.

A cloak.

Not just any cloak—it bore the unmistakable silver seal of the Ethereal Vanguard.

Blackthorn’s blood ran cold.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

This wasn’t just an old man with a strange pet and a messy carriage.

This was someone hand-picked by Atheria herself—someone who out-ranked nearly everyone short of the goddess.

Should we have even stopped him? Blackthorn’s mind raced. No papers or not, this could’ve gone very wrong.

He stepped out slowly, closing the carriage door behind him with care. His expression had shifted—stiffer, more respectful.

“He’s clear,” Blackthorn said simply, brushing past Kalean. “Let him through.”

Kalean blinked. “Sir—?”

“I said let him through.” Blackthorn’s tone was final.

As the rock beast began pulling the carriage forward, the old elf gave a quiet nod of thanks, his expression unreadable.

Only once the wheels were well past the gate did Blackthorn exhale.

Kalean doesn’t need to know what she almost walked into, he thought.

He turned to her. “Next time, maybe let me handle the strange people riding war beasts, yeah?”

Kalean’s ears twitched.

Blackthorn stared out past the trees, his gut uneasy.

If an Ethereal Vanguard is moving through Eden unannounced… something’s happening.

Just then, the floating moonstone flared a sharp blue, pulsing with alarm.

“Heavy magical energy approaching,” it chimed in a serene voice.

Both Blackthorn and Kalean snapped to alertness, weapons ready. From the edge of the forest, a streak of red lightning crackled through the trees, arcing toward the gate like a spear hurled by the sky itself.

Blackthorn reacted instantly. He stepped in front of Kalean, slammed his massive shield into the ground, and shouted:

“By Atheria, may my shield hold true. Your power flows through me—I am your shield.”

The moonstone beside him pulsed again, sending a surge of blue light into him. His shield responded, runes glowing as it expanded into a massive wall of magical force.

He braced, the charged air humming against his skin.

The impact never came.

He stood there, unmoving, heart pounding, until—

“Boo!”

He spun around, fist clenched—only to freeze when he saw a familiar shape in the clearing, one hand on her hip, the other lazily crackling with sparks.

“L-Lightning—Captain Freya?” he stammered, dropping into a respectful bow.

“Leader of the Third Division.” He added quickly. “What brings you here? I thought you were off training that fox kid. It’s been... what, two years since you’ve been back?”

His mind raced. Two Ethereal Vanguard members in a single day? Either something important—or something catastrophic—is happening.

Freya strolled forward, grinning. “Ah yes, it has been a while, Blackthorn. Still strong and just as jumpy.”

Blackthorn coughed, straightening. “Uh—yes, ma’am…”

She waved a hand dismissively. “As for me, well… let’s just say I’m here for a meeting. Can’t share much more than that. And as for Arbor, they’re doing as well as can be expected, given the circumstances.”

Kalean, still shaken, blurted out, “Why are you acting so casual?! First that old man, now this—this sheep lady just about killed us!”

Freya paused. Her eyes narrowed as she turned slowly toward the young elf.

“Oh?” she said. “And who might you be?”

Blackthorn stepped in, panicked. “Apologies, Captain. She’s new. Transferred from Nytherion—Warden class.”

Freya held up a hand. He stopped immediately.

She walked up to Kalean, her playful air gone. Her mana surged.

A deep red mana flared around her, crackling with lightning. The pressure in the air grew suffocating, like the sky before a thunderstorm.

Kalean’s bravado collapsed under the weight. Her knees buckled.

Then Freya blinked. The power vanished as quickly as it came.

“See ya later, Blackthorn,” she said with a cheery wave. “We’ll catch up soon.”

She turned to Kalean with a smirk. “And you, little Warden—it’s best to keep your mouth shut and respect your Captain. At least until you can stand behind your words.”

Kalean fell to her knees, breath shallow, stunned into silence.

Blackthorn rubbed his forehead and sighed. She never changes.

“Those two are going to have a long day,” Freya muttered, shaking her head. In the distance, a familiar shape caught her eye—a distinctive, rune-carved carriage slowly making its way along the forest path.

Her brow lifted. “Hmm. So he’s here too.”

With a flicker of red lightning, she vanished from the gate.

A moment later, she reappeared atop the carriage’s rear step, mana crackling faintly beneath her boots. She crept forward silently, hand already on the hilt of her blade, fully intending to startle the passenger. But before she could even lean in—

“Aren’t you and I getting a little too old for this, my student?” a deep voice called from the front.

Freya paused. Then sighed. Damn it. She was sure she had hid her presence.

“Come sit,” the old elf said, patting the bench beside him as he guided the lumbering rock-beast that pulled the carriage.

She hopped up beside him. “Don’t say that, old man. My age hasn’t caught up to me yet,” she said, folding her arms. “You, Master Swiftfoot, may be getting up there.”

The elf chuckled. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

As the carriage passed through the second gate of Eden’s capital, the guards snapped to attention, saluting Freya on sight. She returned a nod but kept her eyes ahead.

The streets unfolded with a vibrant, magical life.

Smooth gray stone paths split the city’s heart, but the true spectacle lay on either side. Market stalls and shops—grown from trees, stone, and crystal—gleamed with enchanted wares. Garments that shimmered with runes, charms made of glowing insect wings, fruits larger than a child’s head.

Beasts of silver fur and crystal scales walked calmly beside their elven handlers. Antlered spirits strolled past cloud-tailed catfolk, and laughter rang out as children darted between them, one stumbling into the arms of a graceful, elk-horned woman.

Freya took it in with a flick of her gaze. The same, as always. Yet it never lost its wonder. Her hand brushed over the runes on her hand, fingers tracing them without thinking.

Beside her, Master Swiftfoot had grown quiet.

Then he spoke softly, “Oh… how I missed this place.” His tone was steeped in nostalgia, and for a brief moment, Freya saw the warrior he once was, not the old traveler before her.

“There’s much going on, and much I’ve uncovered,” he continued. “But that can wait.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I’ve come to request an audience with Atheria.”

Freya looked over, surprise flickering across her face.

“Well… as a former member of the Ethereal Vanguard, you might just be in luck,” she murmured. “There’s a meeting of the Elites today. Looks like you’ll be coming with me.”

Swiftfoot gave a low whistle. “My, my. A gathering of the entire Elite Legion? That doesn’t happen often.”

Freya nodded. “No, it doesn’t. Looks like we’ll all have a full plate.”