Before dawn, Bluelamp Academy always smelled of stone. Cold air curved around the hallway corners, slipping through window gaps. The pale blue light of crystal lamps wavered against stone walls, and the remnants of last night's mist still drifted around the academy grounds. Mira was running through that hallway. She clutched research scrolls to her chest, her pale silver braided hair swaying with each stride. The small burn scar on her right cheek caught the crystal lamp's light, and the blue crystal ornament trembled faintly. From the Ley Observation Chamber to Headmaster Doren Hus's office—the calculations were already complete in her mind. The problem was that the results were far too dire. Pulsation Stone—the elemental crystal existing at the ley nexus point of the Servatis Mountain Range, responsible for stabilizing the aether tidal flow on the range's western slope—its aether output had reached ninety-two percent of critical threshold. Complete decay would occur within six hours. Those were the numbers the Ley Observation Chamber's resonance communicator—the remote monitoring device the academy had installed at nexus points throughout the range to relay aether anomalies—had produced. Mira knocked on the headmaster's door. The response was immediate. Doren Hus was already awake. His white hair was neatly combed, and quiet eyes behind round spectacles looked at Mira's face. Those eyes shifted to the materials she held, and the elderly scholar read the situation in a single second. "Show me," he said simply. Mira spread the data. The headmaster's finger traced the observation values. A long silence. "We need to suppress the aether runaway before the pulsation stone's decay reaches critical," Mira said. "I understand," Doren Hus replied. There was no emotion in the headmaster's voice. But deep in his eyes, Mira saw a tension she had never witnessed before. Something the seasoned researcher couldn't quite hide. "Take the Guardian with you," Doren Hus said. --- Liora woke because Mira knocked on her door three times. "Wake up," Mira said. With her deep crimson hair still disheveled, Liora opened the door. Her golden eyes were still sleepy and narrow. The Mark of the Guardian near her collarbone—the guardian's mark—glowed quietly even in the dim morning light. "...What time is it?" Liora asked. "Before dawn. Hurry," Mira said. As Mira explained the situation, Liora's drowsiness peeled away in stages. Ninety-two percent of critical threshold. Within six hours. Crystal in the mountains. As the explanation progressed, she felt the mark beginning to warm. As if being called. "What about Zephyr?" Liora asked. "I've already called him. However," Mira said. She paused for a beat. "Have him check his left arm before we depart," Mira said. Zephyr was already in the hallway. His short hair, dark blue with red mesh streaks, was slightly disheveled from sleep, and his jade-green vertical slit pupils were unfocused. Still, his movements as he prepared his equipment were swift. Mira held a diagnostic crystal fragment over Zephyr's left arm. Over the bandages wrapped the night before. "Try producing a small wind spell," Mira said. "How small?" Zephyr asked. "Very weak. A breeze, not a gust," Mira said. Zephyr moved his left arm lightly. In that instant, the crystal fragment in Mira's hand emitted a weak gray light. Zephyr's expression twisted slightly. Just for a moment. Then it returned to normal. Mira saw it. "I said the healing period would be six days," Mira said. "I was just testing," Zephyr said. "Let me examine the results of that test," Mira said. The moment Mira reached for her diagnostic crystal, Zephyr quickly pulled his left arm away. "...Fine, fine. I'll behave," Zephyr said. Liora, standing beside him, quietly confirmed the bandage knot. The same knot as last night. Undisturbed. She also understood that Zephyr was pretending not to notice. Headmaster Doren Hus appeared in the hallway around the time the three finished their preparations. A small figure. The elderly scholar's white hair was neatly combed, and his eyes fixed on Liora's collarbone. "This morning, the mark's outline is more distinct than yesterday," Doren Hus said. Not encouragement or warning. The words fell at their feet as pure observation. The headmaster said nothing more and returned down the hallway. Watching his retreating back, Liora touched her mark. It was warm. Slightly warmer than yesterday. --- Dawn mist covered the mountainside. The three left the academy and hurried up the middle slopes of the Servatis Range. Mira led, cross-referencing her map with ley observation data. Liora followed behind, while Zephyr walked in the middle, favoring his left arm. The rocks beneath their feet were slick with mist, and grass roots jutted from gaps in the stone path. "Is this route correct?" Liora asked. "It's more of a beast trail, but it's the shortest," Mira said. Mira unfolded her map. Hand-drawn contour lines and the flow of ley lines marked in red ink. A steep rocky slope loomed ahead. Zephyr looked up at the slope. "I can create an updraft with wind magic. It'd be faster," Zephyr said. It was a confident proposal. His jade-green eyes gleamed. Mira finished her calculation in a second. "Your left arm doesn't have enough output capacity to maintain an updraft," Mira said. "I'll use my right arm," Zephyr said. "..." Mira said. Mira looked at Zephyr for a second. Then her eyes returned to the map. She didn't verbally refuse. Zephyr attempted the wind spell with only his right arm. Air currents flowed from his fingertips—the faint red glow that appeared during spell activation flickered in Zephyr's jade-green pupils. But his control was sloppy. Single-arm deployment was an unfamiliar angle for Zephyr's spell casting. The gust blew sideways. The map flew silently from Mira's hands. With a sharp whistle through the air, the map stuck to the rock wall. "Oh no," Zephyr said. Liora was already running. She used the rock's protrusions as footholds, reaching toward the map stuck to the wall. Her fingertips fell just short. She took one more step, finally grasping it. When she returned, breathing hard, Mira and Zephyr stood side by side. Zephyr simply said, "Sorry." Mira silently took the map from Liora and checked its condition. "There are creases, but the information is still readable," Mira said. Zephyr whispered to Liora. "Is she mad?" Zephyr asked. Liora whispered back. "Not mad—just prioritizing the map's information," Liora said. Zephyr nodded. His expression seemed almost impressed. Mira folded the map while noticing the two whispering together, but said nothing. Beyond the rocky terrain, gray-purple mist began drifting across the mountainside. The color of decaying aether. The three's pace instinctively quickened. --- The pulsation stone's shrine was built in a small basin beyond the rocky terrain. Stone construction surrounding the crystal from three sides—an ancient structure. Mira had explained beforehand that this place once served as a ley stabilization point where pilgrims came to visit. But the shrine now held none of that serenity. The crystal—what should have been a clear jade-green pillar about the height of an adult's chest—was stained gray-purple from its base, and decaying aether pulsed from cracks running across its surface. The air was heavy. Liora's collarbone mark began to warm as they approached. Different from last night's warmth. Urgent. Pulling. "The crack progression is faster than anticipated," Mira said. Mira withdrew suppression catalysts from her bag. Special crystal fragment combinations the Bluelamp Academy used in decay stabilization experiments—when arranged along the cracks, they temporarily slowed the release of decaying aether. Mira's slender fingers positioned the catalysts as if reading the cracks' shapes. Zephyr began wind flow control to direct the decaying aether outward. Focusing on his right arm, using his left lightly as support. Decaying aether had a different wavelength than normal aether—it destabilized the wind barrier Zephyr deployed. With each output, his left arm tensed slightly. He didn't show it in his expression. But his breathing became slightly shallower. Liora watched. While watching, she directed her consciousness toward her mark. Hot. Close. The crystal's decay and the mark seemed to sense each other—an uncomfortable sensation. Mira's catalysts began functioning. The crack's expansion stopped. "...It's only a temporary delay," Mira said. Her voice was quiet. A researcher's report, stripped of emotion. But Liora saw Mira's right hand tremble slightly as she continued positioning catalysts. "Thirty minutes is the limit. To truly stop this crystal's decay—the mark's resonance is necessary," Mira said. No one moved. Zephyr continued wind flow control, glancing at Liora once. Not a question. Just confirmation. A look that said, "You already knew this, didn't you?" Liora touched her mark. Hot. But this time, it wasn't just fear. Something else mixed in. --- One step. Then another. As she approached the crystal, the mark's heat intensified. By the third step, the air's quality changed. The decaying aether grew denser. Her head felt slightly hazy. The sensation of being "called" that she'd felt before returned, and Liora's feet nearly stopped. (I'm scared.) To be honest, she was scared. She remembered the hallway incident. The sensation amplifying as she resisted the power. The feeling of her hands slipping beyond her reach the harder she tried to control it. The experience of only calming down when she matched her breathing to Zephyr's rhythm remained in her body's memory. "Not resistance, but acceptance," Mira's voice reached her quietly. Mira continued positioning catalysts without turning her gaze toward Liora. But her voice was certain. She was repeating something she'd said before, judging it necessary in this moment—Liora understood this was Mira's form of care, born from thought rather than emotion. "Liora," Zephyr called. His voice. A short call between labored breaths. She could tell from the slight strain in his voice that his left arm's burden was increasing. Yet he didn't stop the wind flow control. He kept sweeping the decaying aether away from Liora's surroundings. Just her name. That was all. But there was something certain in the quality of that voice. Liora closed her eyes. She thought of what she wanted to protect. The knot in Zephyr's left arm bandage. The clumsy knot Liora had tied last night. Mira's trembling hands as she continued positioning catalysts. The wooden pilings at Vespera's harbor and the smell of sea breeze. Gorryn's squeezed-out voice saying "a hundred years too early." Her father's worn leather navigation journal. The feel of it in her hands. (I'm scared, so I'll move forward.) Not moving forward because she wasn't scared. Moving forward while scared, fear and all. Because what she wanted to protect came before the fear, her feet moved. The mark—for the first time, answered. Golden light extended toward the crystal in controlled radiance. Not pushing, but touching. At the boundary, it held against the gray-purple decay. Not complete purification. Not sealing the cracks, but suppressing the decay's progression—a precarious equilibrium. The collapse stopped. Not perfect. But it stopped. Liora felt her power move as "her own" for the first time. Not achievement or victory. Just the sensation of finally touching a part of herself that had always been out of reach—that feeling was certain there, just before consciousness faded. The stone path drew closer. --- She collapsed to her knees. Zephyr caught her with his right arm. He didn't use his left. But he caught her. Liora was unconscious. Her deep crimson hair spread across the stone, and only her collarbone mark glowed quietly. Mira knelt and checked her pulse. Check