The Arcanum Arrives

The first sign of the attack was silence.

Raine had been pacing his quarters, restless from the vision, when the distant hum of the Weaving Society's underground halls simply... vanished.

No murmurs of conversation. No footfalls echoing against stone. Just an unnatural, suffocating stillness.

Then—the walls shook.

A deep impact, heavier than a simple explosion, rattled the chamber's foundation. Dust drifted from the ceiling, and a sharp crack ran along one of the stone walls. A siege.

The Arcanum had come.

Raine grabbed his sword and threw open the door just as a figure sprinted past—a Weaving Society mage, blood slicking their robes, their breath ragged. They tried to speak, but before they could—a second impact roared through the tunnels, sending them sprawling.

From the distance, voices rang out, sharp and commanding.

"Seal the lower chambers!"

"Cut off the escape routes—no one gets out."

"Find the Abyss-touched. Kill the rest."

Raine's chest tightened.

Not a raid. A purge.

Then the first spells struck.

Flashes of silver-blue Essence tore through the tunnels, cutting down retreating Weavers before they could rally. Trained Arcanum enforcers moved in waves, overwhelming defenses in coordinated strikes.

A third blast rocked the corridor, and then—Kael.

He burst through the dust, eyes sharp, cloak trailing behind him as he grabbed Raine by the arm and yanked him into a side passage.

"Move!" Kael barked.

Raine barely had time to stumble into motion. "Where's Ezren?"

Kael's jaw clenched. "Holding the front line."

"Holding." Not winning.

A surge of energy rippled down the tunnel behind them, a concussive blast that collapsed the passage just as they turned the corner. Arcanum Weavers were cutting off escape routes, bottling them in like prey.

"We need to get to the war room," Kael said.

Raine gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to move. The Society had been preparing for this. They knew the Arcanum would come eventually. They wouldn't just fall.

Would they?

The next hallway opened into chaos.

Weaving Society fighters clashed with Arcanum enforcers, steel against Essence, spells igniting the darkness in brilliant bursts of gold and violet light. One Society member—Alden—was locked in a duel with an armored Arcanum agent, his blade sparking as it clashed against an energy barrier.

A second agent raised a hand, preparing a spell aimed directly at Alden's exposed flank—

Raine moved without thinking.

He surged forward, swinging his blade low. The Arcanum agent barely turned in time, catching the attack on their gauntlet, but the impact threw them off balance. Alden took the opening, driving his sword forward in a brutal counterstrike.

The agent crumpled.

Alden panted, looking up. His expression tightened when he saw Raine. "Took you long enough."

"Not now," Kael snapped. He turned to a nearby Society fighter. "Where's Ezren?"

The woman—one of Ezren's lieutenants—wiped blood from her face, eyes dark. "Still at the gates. He's keeping the Anchor back."

Anchor.

The word sent a chill through Raine's bones.

"They sent one?" Alden muttered. "Shit."

Kael exhaled sharply. "Then we don't have time."

The lieutenant turned to Raine. "If we survive this, you better be worth it." Then she was gone, disappearing into the fray.

Raine didn't respond.

Worth it.

He wasn't sure he was.

Another explosion tore through the tunnels, closer this time. The Arcanum wasn't just fighting—they were pushing forward. Raine could feel it in the air, the way the magic shifted. The Society was losing ground.

Kael cursed under his breath. "We can't stay here."

Alden adjusted his grip on his sword. "Then let's go."

Together, they ran.

The War Room

They arrived to find Ezren standing over a bloodstained table, surrounded by Society leaders. Maps were scattered across the surface, hastily marked with defensive positions—many of which had already fallen.

Ezren's face was grim. He looked up as they entered. "Took you long enough."

"We had company," Kael muttered.

Ezren exhaled. "We're running out of time. The main gate won't hold much longer. If the Anchor breaks through—"

As if on cue, another deep pulse resonated through the stone.

Not an explosion. Not Essence.

Something worse.

The air itself seemed to tighten—the same way it had when Raine encountered the Arcanum back at the Resonance Test.

The Anchor was getting closer.

Ezren's expression hardened. "We're initiating the fallback."

Kael stiffened. "That's not what we planned."

"The plan changed," Ezren said. "We're outnumbered, and if we don't withdraw, there won't be a Society left to rebuild."

Alden swore under his breath.

Raine felt it—the weight of the moment.

This wasn't just an attack.

It was the end of the Weaving Society as he knew it.

Ezren turned to Kael. "Get him out. Now."

Kael didn't argue.

Alden hesitated. "And you?"

Ezren didn't answer.

Because they already knew.

Someone had to stay behind.

A moment stretched between them. Raine wanted to argue—to say they could fight, that they could turn this around.

But then the air pulsed again.

A shadow moved at the entrance.

The Anchor had arrived.

A figure stepped into the war room. Cloaked in black and gold, their mask obscuring all features.

Reality locked into place around them.

Essence stopped moving.

The Society's magic collapsed in on itself, unraveling before it could be used.

The Anchor had sealed the room.

Ezren moved first.

A blast of Weaving surged toward the intruder, fast, precise—and was unmade instantly. The spell shattered, breaking apart as if it had never existed.

The Anchor lifted a hand.

Ezren grimaced. He turned toward Kael. "Go!"

Kael grabbed Raine by the arm and yanked him toward the back exit. Alden followed without hesitation.

Behind them—the war room erupted into chaos.

Raine's last sight of Ezren was him standing his ground—blade raised, fire crackling in his hands—facing the Anchor alone.

Then Kael dragged him through the door, and they ran.

The tunnels were collapsing.

The Society's magic was breaking apart under the weight of the Anchor's presence. Entire passageways imploded, turning into dead ends as they sprinted deeper into the underground.

Kael moved fast, leading them through a maze of escape routes that had likely been mapped years ago for this very moment.

Raine's heart pounded.

Ezren was gone.

The Society was falling.

And outside, the Arcanum's purge would continue.

They burst into the open air.

Night had fallen. Smoke rose from the entrance to the underground halls. The city was burning.

Kael turned sharply, eyes locking onto Raine. "We have to keep moving. They won't stop hunting you."

Raine, still dazed, swallowed. "Where do we go?"

Kael hesitated for only a second.

Then—"The city from your vision. If it exists, that's where we'll find answers."

Raine exhaled sharply, turning toward the darkened horizon.

The Weaving Society was gone.

But their fight wasn't over yet.