Page 224 of Elemental Becoming

I glance down. Goosebumps ripple across my arms. I rub them, like I can press the feeling away.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I’m sorry, I just—”

Valen cuts me off, gently but firmly.

“Amara.”

His voice is quiet.

“You may be for this world,” he says quietly. “But you weren’t born of it. Not of battles, shadows, or the weight of what’s coming. This could break anyone.” He places a callused hand over mine. “You’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling. But don’t carry it alone. Talk to us. Let us help.”

I nod, still unable to find my voice. Through the bond, I feel Thane’s worry—just as he must have felt the panic rising in me before he reached out. I draw a few measured breaths, each one steadier than the last. Then I glance at him.

“I’m okay,” I say. “I will be.”

I reach for my Earth Elemental magics, grounding myself. I picture the ancient oak at the outpost, its weathered trunk and broad canopy offering quiet refuge whenever the world became too much. The magics rise within me, wrapping around my spirit with the quiet certainty of deep roots and the familiar comfort of coming home.

He studies me for a moment longer, then he nods, but his hand doesn’t leave. Instead, he drapes it across the back of my chair, fingers pressing lightly against my spine. A quiet tether.

“What’s our next move?” Thane says, the words clipped. “Because I don’t plan to wait for this thing to come to us.”

Valen stands and crosses to a narrow shelf behind his desk. He pulls down a familiar leather-bound ledger worn at the edges and opens it, flipping past pages filled with angular script and faded sketches.

“I wish I had clearer answers,” he says without looking up. “What we know of this bond is fragmented—buried in conflicting records, forgotten by most.”

He sets the ledger down and turns to us.

“But the records we recovered from the Starlit Chamber—those matter. And General Veyne’s journal . . . there’s something in his last entries. Mentions of a dual resonance. A binding unlike any seen before.” He hesitates. “I’ve only begun to cross-reference them. But the deeper I look, the more I’m convinced this isn’t just history repeating itself.”

Thane leans forward. “What do you mean?”

Valen’s gaze flicks to the window.

“I think someone—or something—has already noticed the bond’s return.”

Valen’s fingers tap once against the rim of his cup before he sets it down.

“Not openly. Not directly. But something changed last week.”

His eyes remain fixed on the distant horizon.

“There is a ward buried deep within the outer ring of the High Archive. The magics is ancient, older than the clans themselves. Most of the time it lies dormant. It was created to react only under very specific circumstances.”

A long silence follows.

“Last week, it activated.”

The words settle heavily between us.

“The Master Archivist informed me immediately. She and her team have been gathering every scrap of information they can find, but there isn’t much.”

His gaze shifts from Thane to me.

“The ward does not respond to Elemental magics. Not Fire. Not Water. Not Earth. Not Air.” His voice lowers. “It was designed to react only when something unknown moves through the weave.”

Valen folds his hands together.

“It lit up for the first time in my lifetime.”