CH 20

He couldn't move.

His arms were frozen—his legs too. Then he heard her.

"Glacier Bloom," she whispered.

The ground rumbled beneath him.

His eyes widened. No time to react.

Then—impact.

His body was hurled through the air, pain tearing through his stomach, chest, and his head. Blood sprayed from his mouth mid-flight. Everything burned. His vision blurred.

No... I can't lose consciousness now...

But darkness crept in fast. He couldn't stop it.

Then silence.

Cael stood alone.

He wasn't lying down. He wasn't falling. He was... standing, somehow.

But the place—

It wasn't the arena.

It wasn't anywhere.

A vast black void stretched out endlessly around him. No sky. No ground. No stars. Just an empty space made of darkness.

Am I dead? he thought.

He took a step forward. Then another. The silence was thick, but faint voices echoed—muffled and distant. Familiar. From the dome?

Did I... migrate? he wondered, still walking.

Then he saw it.

A flicker of light ahead.

He broke into a run. Hope surged through him.

Is this the way out?

And then—sensation.

His vision returned in a slow, dizzy rush. The dome came back into view, his gaze dropped on the ground.

Blood.

His blood.

He was standing, but couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Every muscle felt locked in place.

Am I paralyzed?

Panic swelled in his chest.

Then, movement—something shifting near his hand.

His eyes darted weakly downward, and there—coiled like a shadow—was a black mist, serpentine in form, slithering from his arm to the arnis stick still in his grasp.

What... is this?

And then—his head rose.

Slowly.

No, wait… he wasn't the one moving.

Where am I, then?

Why was his body moving on its own?

Wait, wait, wait— Cael spoke, but only in his thoughts, panic creeping in.

He could see the dome again—bright lights, blurred outlines sharpening into focus. Across from him stood Salleliah. Her expression had changed.

She looked afraid.

Her grip on her wand was tight—so tight, it looked like she was holding onto her very life.

"Liah! Get out of there!" Rhosyn's voice cracked from the railing above.

Salleliah heard. But she didn't run. She raised her wand instead, planting it firmly in front of her, bracing herself.

Cael could feel it now. His own arms. His own legs.

They were moving.

Not by his will.

No. No, no—what's happening?

And then—his body lunged. Fast. Violent. An attack.

"Wait—no!" he tried to shout, but his mouth didn't move. No words came out. It was like a nightmare—a sleep paralysis where your thoughts scream, but your body stays silent, bound, strangled by an unseen force.

Like a demon sitting on his chest.

Salleliah reacted instantly. "Frostspire Ascend!"

A towering spire of ice burst from the ground between them, jagged and roaring skyward like a lance. He stopped—but not by choice. His body shifted, dodging instinctively.

She didn't let him recover.

"Imperial Hail!" she cried out.

A rain of crystal hailstones erupted around him—small, fast, piercing. Sharp as knives. She has full control of it. 

He moved again—dodging, ducking, slipping through the downpour.

I'm not in control.

I'm not in control!

"Cryo Lance!" she chanted again, her voice sharp with desperation—throwing everything she had left. She wasn't fighting to win anymore.

She was fighting to survive.

Because whatever stood in front of her now... was something else.

"Do something! Stop it!" Rhosyn screamed, her hands clutching Garran's collar.

But Garran stood still—unmoving. His eyes fixed on the arena.

"That's—that's my child!" Rhosyn cried, breaking. "Are you doing this because of what happened in the past? Fine! It was my mistake—I killed your son, I killed Neilos, it's on me!" Her voice cracked as she dropped to her knees. "So please… please… make this stop…"

Garran finally moved. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Rise, Rhosyn," he said, his voice steady. "Watch your daughter. Trust her—her skills, her gift."

"B-but…" Rhosyn sobbed, her eyes flicking back to the chaos below.

"Cryo Lance!" Salleliah cast again.

Dozens of ice spears, sharp and gleaming, launched toward Cael.

But he didn't flinch.

His body moved forward—fast—driven by something that wasn't him. Not even trying to evade the spears. He met the spear head-on, leaping from one to the next.

Each movement was sharper than before. Each step, unnervingly precise.

Please run… just run, Cael begged in his thoughts.

But no one could hear him.

No one could stop this.

His limbs surged forward, unrelenting.

Salleliah bit down on her lower lip. Her hands trembled as her mana thinned. She had no cards left to play.

"Glass Petal Fall!" she whispered, voice shaking. 

Cael's body twisted mid-air, a blur of motion. His arnis—once just a simple stick—glowed violently. A searing line of light, like a laser, carved itself across its length.

Baybayin script was glowing and alive.

Words he couldn't read. Symbols he didn't understand. But they pulsed with power.

He spun through the air, slicing through the ice petals like they were nothing, shards exploding around him as he dove in for another attack.

No—no! Cael gritted his teeth, straining against whatever force controlled him.

He could feel it now—his fingers twitching. Moving.

I can move...!

"Glacier Bloom!" Salleliah cried out, summoning a massive, jagged iceberg from the ground to shield herself once more.

And then everything stopped. 

Their breath caught.

Eyes locked.

Time stretched in that moment between violence and stillness.

Because Cael—he had shattered her iceberg.

With only the black obsidian arnis. 

It cuts effortlessly through her strongest defense.

Salleliah's lips parted.

"…It's over," she whispered, acceptance soft in her voice.

The sting of the stick brushed her neck. Blood dripped as his arnis could cut now.

And then, as if the world itself paused, everything stopped again.

The entire dome—every student, every master—frozen in place.

Even Cael.

Even her.

A figure moved through the suspended moment like a ghost untouched by time.

Garran Volkhar.

He approached the arena slowly, calmly. A presence behind the stillness, behind the pause of reality.

Cael saw him. He could breathe again. His chest heaved, relief crashing over him.

But then—

A sudden pull.

His vision blurred as the darkness crept in. The world tipped.

And just like that…

He lost consciousness.

Garran's eyes locked onto Cael's weapon.

He knew.

He knew what was wrong.

He knew who it was.

Raising his right hand, he aimed it at the arnis—palm open, fingers splayed—as if trying to seize control of it. But his hand trembled. The weapon resisted. Not just any weapon… it was the one controlling Cael all along.

Garran's jaw tightened. His expression darkened with effort as he struggled, forcing his fingers to close. Bit by bit, he clenched his fist, as though grasping a volatile spirit.

The air shivered. The weapon stilled.

With one final motion, Garran closed his hand—and the arnis obeyed.

It tore free from Cael's grip, slicing through the air and landing firmly in Garran's palm. Power thrummed in his hand, steady and alive.

He looked at Cael, frozen, unmoving within his domain.

Garran caught the faint glow of the black mark coiling along Cael's arm, slowly fading.

He exhaled, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.

Finally, everything was calm.

Then, with a simple snap of his fingers

——Time resumed.

Salleliah collapsed to her knees, her mana drained. Her breath was ragged, her limbs trembling.

And then—

Cael's unconscious body slumped forward… right into her.

Instinctively, she caught him. His head rested against her shoulder, her hands cupping his cheek.

His face was pale. Cold.

"Liah!" Rhosyn's voice rang out from above, and moments later, she raced down from the stands.

But Salleliah didn't move. Her eyes stayed on Cael's face—unblinking, transfixed.

Because she was seeing something.

It wasn't the dome. Not her mother's voice. Not even Cael himself.

But a memory.

Or… was it a vision?

She held him—and suddenly, the world around her shifted.

Two figures stood before her.

A woman—ethereal, breathtaking. Her beauty was unbearable. She wore a simple, ancient white dress reminiscent of Rome, adorned with golden accessories that shimmered like starlight. Her black hair flowed in long, soft waves.

Beside her stood a man, his presence equally divine, holding the woman close. They were laughing. Smiling. Radiant. Unreal.

Otherworldly.

And then—

The man turned to look at her.

"Liah! Remove your hand from him!" Rhosyn's voice cut in, filled with alarm, reaching out to grab her daughter—

But Salleliah whispered, her voice barely a breath, hoarse from exhaustion:

"Frost...ward Shell…"

In an instant, a dome of shimmering, reinforced ice enveloped them—round and solid, like a crystalline igloo.

Rhosyn's hand hit the barrier. "Liah!"

Inside the shell, only silence.

Just Salleliah and Cael.

She had to see this.

She needed to understand.

What was this vision?

Why was she seeing this… now?

Outside the igloo, Rhosyn kept pounding her fists against the barrier, her voice cracking with desperation.

"Liah! Liah!"

Around the arena, students from both divisions murmured in confusion.

"Wait… what's happening?" one whispered.

"Where's Salleliah?" asked another.

All eyes turned to the glowing dome of reinforced ice.

The igloo began to flicker—its glow pulsing weakly as Salleliah's mana continued to drain.

"Liah!" Rhosyn screamed again, her palms flat against the ice.

"There's no use shouting, Miss Rhosyn," said a calm voice beside her.

It was Ezren.

The rest of the Night Watchers had arrived. Davor stepped beside Ezren, nodding slowly.

"Let's wait for Salleliah to bring the barrier down," he said. "Once she does, we'll separate them. As you wish."

Rhosyn stared at the ice shell, trembling. Then, after a long breath, she straightened her back and took a step away.

"But what if something happens in there?" she asked, voice low, frightened.

Garran stepped forward. He held the arnis in his hand, the script along its length still faintly glowing.

"Don't worry," he said. "I have it now."

As if on cue, the ice barrier dissolved with a sharp hiss of cold air dispersing.

And there they were.

Salleliah had collapsed, her head resting gently against Cael's unconscious body. Her hand was still on his cheek—just like before. As if holding onto a memory.

"Liah!" Rhosyn gasped.

She ran forward.

Gabo and several others quickly moved to help, lifting both Salleliah and Cael with care.

"Get them to the clinic!" Rhosyn commanded, her worry now spilling into urgency.

They rushed them to the main clinic, urgency in every step. Gabo and the others gently laid Cael and Salleliah on separate beds.

Rhosyn was at her daughter's side in an instant, kneeling as she channeled healing magic through her trembling hands. The light from her palms glowed against Salleliah's pale skin.

Her grimoire flew open with a whisper of pages, hovering beside her as she began channeling restoration, both for the wounds and the mana her daughter had drained.

On the next bed, Alletes was already at work healing Cael's injuries, though it was clear he needed more than physical mending.

Then, Rhosyn's frustration cracked through the silence.

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she stared at her unconscious daughter.

"What is wrong with you..." she muttered under her breath. "Are you trying to protect that boy? Why did you use the last of your mana to create that stupid barrier?"

Her voice trembled with pain more than anger. She reached for Salleliah's hand and held it tightly, her thumb brushing over cold fingers.

A moment later, another mage entered the clinic in haste—a specialist, dressed in white robes adorned with gold trim. A soul-healer.

He bypassed the others and moved straight to Cael, concern etched deep in his face.

"His condition is critical," the healer announced. "We need to stabilize his soul—it's drifting."

Everyone fell silent.

"Begin the tethering ritual," the healer ordered. "We must ensure his soul stays intact with his body. If it breaks…"

He didn't finish the sentence.

The soul-healer placed both hands over Cael's chest, whispering an incantation in an ancient tongue. A soft light began to form—thin as silk—hovering above Cael's body like a web of glowing threads trying to pull something back.