Antru had once been nothing more than a beggar. A child with hollowed cheeks and dirt-streaked skin, fighting to carve out an existence on the streets of Gorvath, a town nestled in the far north of Lafina. The cold was merciless there, sinking into his bones like an affliction that no amount of movement could shake.

  Food had always been scarce, and warmth even scarcer. He had learned early that kindness was not something freely given in this world. Those with power hoarded it, and those without scrabbled for scraps at their feet.

  He had done things he wasn’t proud of. Stolen. Lied. Even fought against other desperate children for the smallest crumbs. In Gorvath, survival was a constant battle. There was no place for weakness.

  Then, one fateful night, his hunger drove him too far.

  A livestock pen—unguarded for only a moment. The chance had been too tempting. The desperate bleating of the stolen animal still echoed in his mind, a sound that had sealed his fate. The townsfolk were ruthless. When they caught him, they didn’t bother with a trial. They beat him, spat at him, and cast him out into the frozen wilderness beyond the town’s borders.

  That night, Antru had wandered through the snow, his body aching, his stomach a pit of agony. He should have died.

  But fate had other plans.

  He had stumbled upon the cave by accident, its entrance hidden behind jagged rocks, partially obscured by ice and snow. Desperation drove him inside, seeking refuge from the biting wind. The cave was dark, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and something else—something ancient.

  And then he saw it.

  A corpse.

  A skeletal figure slumped against the cavern wall, its brittle bones draped in the remnants of a once-grand robe. Time had stripped away its flesh, but something lingered—an eerie presence that made the air feel heavier.

  His gaze was drawn to the objects left behind.

  A vial, filled with an inky black liquid.

  A grimoire, its cover aged yet untouched by decay.

  A statue, small enough to fit in his palm, yet radiating an unsettling aura. A figure with too many eyes, its form twisted into something that defied comprehension.

  Had this corpse worshiped it?

  Had this being granted its follower power, only for it to wither away in this forgotten place?

  Antru had hesitated, but desperation had always been a powerful motivator. He had taken the vial. He had taken the grimoire. And in that moment, his fate had changed forever.

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  The whispers had begun that night.

  And so had his journey into the arcane.

  Years had passed since that fateful discovery.

  Antru had learned. He had experimented. He had clawed his way out of obscurity, rising from nothing to become one of the most formidable mages in Lafina. The art of formation creation had been his greatest weapon—an intricate discipline few could master.

  He had become a High Grandmaster Mage, standing on the precipice of something greater. One step away from the rank of Archmage, a title that only a handful in the continent could claim.

  And yet, despite all his accomplishments, despite all his knowledge…

  He felt uneasy.

  His eyes flickered toward the center of the formation, where it stood.

  The thing.

  The anomaly.

  The first time he had laid eyes on it.

  Antru prided himself on logic. Magic had rules, no matter how complex or esoteric. Even the strangest beings, the most forbidden arts—everything could be explained.

  But this.

  This entity defied explanation.

  Even now, staring at it for the first time, he could tell it was wrong.

  The formation had done its work, analyzing its composition, scrutinizing its nature. And yet, even with all the calculations, the precise interwoven magic meant to define it—there was something missing.

  The results did not make sense.

  It was not a demon.

  Not a spirit.

  Not a beast, nor a human, nor an aberration that fit into any known category.

  It was… something else.

  Something that should not exist.

  And yet, it did.

  His grip on his staff tightened. The others believed they had succeeded. The formation, their grand creation, had constrained it.

  Or so they thought.

  Antru did not share their confidence.

  He watched the way it stood there, unmoving. Not struggling. Not resisting.

  Just… observing.

  As if it were amused.

  A slow dread curled in his stomach.

  He had spent his entire life unraveling the mysteries of magic. He had walked the fine line between knowledge and madness, between power and consequence. And now, staring at the thing for the first time, a terrible thought whispered in his mind.

  Had they truly trapped it?

  Or had it allowed itself to be caught?

  And if so… why?

  His heartbeat quickened.

  He needed more time. More calculations. More—

  The entity shifted.

  A mere movement.

  Yet the magic in the air trembled, as if responding to an unseen force. The runes flickered, struggling to maintain their hold.

  Antru’s breath caught in his throat.

  It was subtle. So subtle that the others had not noticed.

  But he had.

  The formation was failing.

  The energy it had poured into understanding had instead revealed too much—as if staring too long into the abyss had made the abyss aware of them in return.

  And now?

  The abyss was watching back.

  Antru had seen things that would drive lesser men mad. He had dabbled in forces that others feared to even whisper about.

  And yet, at this moment, he felt something he had not experienced in decades.

  Not fear.

  No, fear was something a man like him had long since discarded.

  But doubt?

  Yes.

  That, he could not ignore.

  He swallowed, his throat dry. His voice came out measured, controlled, betraying none of his inner turmoil.

  “We need to proceed carefully.”

  Aelith turned to him, brows furrowed. “You’re hesitating.”

  Antru didn’t respond immediately. He simply stared at the thing within the formation, his mind racing.

  Something was coming.

  Something none of them had accounted for.

  And he would be damned if he let himself be blind to it.

  Whatever it was…

  It was far from done.