Towan’s mouth opened.

The words that came outweren’t just sound—they were force given shape.

"I am Towan."

Distant.Like an echo from the bottom of a chasm.

Absolute.Like a god declaring natural law.

Len’s kneesbuckled.The air itselfthickened, pressing down on her shoulders like amountain’s weight.Her visionswam, rainwater and sweat stinging her eyes as her hairclung to her face in dripping strands.

Shecouldn’t look away.

His eyes werevoids.Not just dark—anti-light, swallowing the downpour’s reflection, the battlefield’s glow,everything.

Is this still Towan?

The doubtclawed up her throat.

Beside her, Sera’s facetwitched—just once. Amicroscopic crackin her composure. Her fingersflexed, not toward her dagger this time, butopen, empty, as if preparing tocatch lightning.

The rainhowled, but it didn’t touch him.

Dropssteamed awayan inch from his skin, repelled by theinvisible furnaceof his presence.

Powerradiated off him in waves, the kind written about inepics and warnings, the kind thatreshaped nations and slaughtered armies.

And he waslooking right at them.

"Do I… know you?"

His voice wascalm, almostgentle—like a stranger offering directions. No malice. No aggression. Justdetached curiosity.

His shouldersloosened, the crushing pressure in the aireasingas he studied them. They weren’t corrupted. That much, at least, he seemed certain of.

But Len and Seradid not relax.

"Towan…!"Len’s voicecracked, raw with desperation. She took a step forward, her hands trembling at her sides."I’m Len! Your friend!"

The wordshung in the air, a plea thrown into the void.

Towan’s headtilted slightly, his dark eyesflickering with something unrecognizable.

"A Verestra?"

The wordlanded like a guillotine.

Not just confusion—disbelief.As if he’d seen a ghost. As if sheshouldn’t exist.

Len’s handsflew to her mouth, her breathcatching in her throat.The ground beneath herseemed to tilt, the worldshrinking to this single, horrifying truth:

He doesn’t know me.

Not just forgotten—erased.

Sera’s griptightenedaround her dagger, her expressionunreadable.But her silencescreamed louder than any curse.

The raincontinued to fall, the soundmuffled, distant, as if even the storm dared not interrupt.

And Towan—

—no,this hollow echo of him—

Simply stared.

Rhys finally kicked open his door.

"FINALLY!"His voiceboomed down the hallway, sharp with pent-up frustration.

He’dknownthe lower-class students would try something tonight—some pathetic coup to seize the dorms while the professors were distracted. He’dprepared for it.Sharpened his techniques. Drilled counters. Evenanticipatedtheir cowardly tactics.

But this?

Abarrier—thick, suffocating, woven with enough layered Essentia tostall even First-Class students—sealing off the entire third-year wing?

"I should’ve expected that,"he muttered, rolling his shoulders. Ofcoursethey wouldn’t face the strongest head-on.

Still…

"How the hell did they manage a barrier this strong?"

He stepped into the hall—and froze.

The other third-yearsflooded out behind him, their expressions a mix ofbattle-ready grins and confusion.Theelite of the academy, each one a force unto themselves.

And yet—

No enemies.

Noclashing steel, noshattered walls, not even ataunting shoutfrom the shadows.

Justsilence.

Rhys’s jaw tightened."Did the professors already handle it?"

But that made no sense. If the threat was neutralized,why leave the barrier up?

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(He didn’t know, of course. Couldn’t know. The barrier hadalready fallenthe moment Haeren’s Corruption crumbled—dissolving like smokewithout its caster’s will to sustain it.)

"Let me see."

Rhysslammed his palms together, Essentiacoiling outwardin apulse of awareness.Not Towan’s crude "bubble"—no, this wasEryndar’s original technique, refined over years. His energylaced through the air like invisible fingers, probing, testing,mapping the dorm’s perimeter with surgical precision.

And then—

Contact.

Towan.

Or…

Something wearing his shape.

Rhys’s techniqueshattered on impact, his Essentiadissolving like water thrown on a forge.The backlashjolted up his arms, leaving his fingertipsnumb.

"What the…?"

His breathstilled.

For the first time in years—Rhys felt the ice-cold prickle of genuine uncertainty.

"I need to see that."

Not curiosity.

A warning.

Towan stood motionless.

The rainslowed, its relentless downpour easing into adrifting mist, as if the storm itselfhesitatedin his presence.

Then—his handtwitched.

A flick of his wrist—casual, effortless—and Rhys’s techniqueshattered between his fingerslike brittle glass. The backlash should haveripped through flesh, but Towan didn’t evenflinch.

A pause.

"...Rhys?"

His voice washollow, yetrecognizing. Not the warmth of reunion—justcataloguing a familiar signature, like a scholar identifying a long-forgotten text.

The raindulled to a whisper.

Seralet out a breathshe hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her shouldersloosened, but her gazeremained razor-sharp.

Then shesmiled.

Not her usualmocking smirk, not theplayful tauntshe wielded like a blade.

This wassomething rarer.

Curiosity.

"Where are you from?"she asked, her voicesoft, almost reverent.

Because shesaw it now.

Theemptinessin his stance. Thevoidwhere his intent should be.

This wasn’t just a broken boy.

This wassomeone who had already lost everything.

And that—

That made himthe most dangerous thing on the battlefield.

Towan hesitated.

A fraction of a second—a lifetime of calculationflickering behind thosevoid-dark eyes.

Then:

"I am not your Towan."

His voicecarved through the rain, each wordheavy with finality.Hecrossed his arms, not defensively, but like aking dismissing petitioners.

"I’m sure you’ve noticed that."

A step forward.

The airwarped around him, the groundblackening where his shadow fell.

Sera’s muscleslocked.Every instinctscreamed to run—tovanish into the trees and never look back.But her feetremained rooted, not from courage, but from theprimordial understandingthat flight would change nothing.

Len’s breathcrystallized in her lungs.

Then—

"I come from another timeline."

The wordsdetonated between them.

Ashiverripped through both girls—not fear, not awe, but the visceral wrongness of a fundamental law breaking.

The rainstuttered mid-fall, dropletshanging suspendedas if time itselfgasped.

Somewhere in the distance, abranch snapped, too loud in the sudden silence.

Towan watched them,unblinking.

Waiting to see if they’dflee.

Orbeg.

Orshatter from the revelation alone.

Then—

FLASH.

A figureblitzed from a third-story window, shattering the glass mid-leap.Rhys, a comet of coiled fury, descended like ahammer of the gods.

CRACK.

Towan’s forearmmet the kick mid-air—not with a block, but acasual interception, the impactechoing like a gunshot.The ground beneath his feetdidn’t buckle. Didn’t tremble.As if the force simplyceased to existthe moment it touched him.

Rhys’s sneer faltered. His veinsburned with wrongness—this close, Towan’s presence wasn’t just off. It wasan abyss wearing skin.

"What are you?"Rhys snarled, flipping back to land in a crouch.

Towan didn’t pursue. Justtilted his head, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.

"Rhys,"he said, voicelaced with something between nostalgia and pity."As impatient as always."

A beat.

Rhysflinched.Not from fear—from not knowing who was talking to him

(How does he know me?) he thought. He had never spoken with Towan before

Len’s nailsdug into her palms."How does… this Towan know Rhys?"she whispered, the timeline’s weightcrushing her grasp of reality.

Sera’s pupilsdilated, her breath shallow."That’s a possibility,"she murmured, not to Len—to the universe itself.

Because standing before them wasn’t just a stranger.

It wasproof.

Of worlds beyond theirs.

Of lives already lived.

Of a Towan whoremembered everything—and had nothing left to lose.

A resonanthumshuddered through the air as the Academy’s barrier flared back to life, its golden latticework searing through the night like divine script.

The corpses of the wolves—twisted, violet-veined, half-reassembled by Corruption—

—vanished.

Not decayed. Not burned away.

Erased.

As if the universe itself blinked, and in that split second, undid the violation.

The battlefield fell eerily pristine, the only evidence of the slaughter the blood still drying on the survivors’ hands.

Then—

Footsteps.

Elliot and Lyris emerged from the smoke-choked halls, their faces etched with exhaustion and grim triumph—until their eyes locked onto Towan.

Elliot’s essentia flickered and died on his palm, his breath catching like a knife in his ribs.

Lyris’s eyes widened and her fingers twitched—then froze.

A beat.

A rustle of leaves.

Sylra and Ryn landed soundlessly behind them, fresh from their pursuit. Sylra’s windblades dissipated into mist the moment she saw him. Ryn’s daggers hung limp in his grip.

No one spoke.

No one dared.

Because the boy standing before them—

Wasn’t.

Not anymore.

"Elliot… Sylra."

Towan’s voicewashed over them, thick with somethingunplaceable—not joy, not relief, but aquiet, aching recognition, like a man tracing the names on a long-lost gravestone.

"I’m glad to see you okay."

The wordsshould have been warm.Should have beena balmafter the night’s horrors.

But the way he said them—

Pity.

Nostalgia.

As if he wasn’t greeting them, butremembering them.

As if they were alreadyghosts to him.

Then—

Hestepped forward.

Andhugged them.

Elliotstiffened, his bodylocking upmid-breath. Sylra’s fingerstwitchedat her sides, her wind Essentiastuttering outin a silent gasp.

They couldfeel him—the solid weight of his arms, the heat of his skin, thefamiliar scent of iron and ozonethat had always clung to him after a fight.

But itwasn’t him.

Not really.

This close, thewrongnesswas undeniable. His heartbeattoo slow, his breathingtoo even, like a machine mimicking life. The arms around themheld no tension, nounspoken fear or relief—justempty motion, apantomime of affectionperformed by something thatno longer understood it.

A hug thatfelt like a requiem.

And for the first time in their lives—

Neither of them could move.

Not to pull away.

Not to hug back.

Just—

Frozen.

In the arms of astranger wearing their best friend’s corpse.

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