The path beyond the canyon led through a narrow valley where the scorched earth slowly gave way to patches of grass and moss, the scent of ash replaced by something cleaner, like rain on stone. Rivian walked in silence beside Leonora, his boots dragging slightly with each step, Luxvain sheathed at his back, still faintly warm.

  At the edge of the Varnic realm, the world opened up into a vast clearing. There, standing like a monument to the stars themselves, was the Celestial Gate.

  It towered high above them, formed from arching strands of silver and crystal that shimmered in the air like water suspended mid-flow. At its peak, runes glowed softly, shifting like constellations against a twilight sky. The center of the gate was empty, save for a swirling sheen of light that rippled like the surface of a pond.

  "Elaria," Leonora said quietly, gazing through the gate. Beyond its shimmer, Rivian could see only hints of emerald and gold—tall trees with luminous leaves, sunlight filtering through mist, and spires of white stone half-hidden in the woods.

  "It looks... peaceful," he murmured.

  Leonora nodded. "The land of the Elari. Forests older than most realms. Magic more natural than learned. It’s different there. You’ll feel it the moment we pass through."

  Rivian turned to her. "How many more realms are there?"

  She knelt in the dirt and picked up a stick. "There are twenty in total," she said. With practiced ease, she began drawing a wide circle in the sand. Then, with quick strokes, she divided it into even segments, like a clock face.

  "Each realm sits around the Circle of Sarinia," she explained, pointing to each segment. "We just crossed through Varnic—the first realm. My home. When we reach the twentieth, we’ll come face to face with the Holder of Realms. Athlestan."

  She tapped the top of the circle. "He’s the Grand King. A mage whose power binds the realms together. Every kind of magic flows from him, and into him. The air shifts when he speaks, Rivian. He’s not just powerful—he is power."

  Rivian frowned. "And between these realms?"

  Leonora’s expression darkened. She drew a jagged spiral around the edges of the circle. "Between each realm lies the Void. A space outside time. No light. No ground. Just the cries of lost souls who fell trying to cross."

  She looked up at him. "A great Eye watches from above. We don’t know what it is. Only that it sees everything—and it judges."

  Rivian shivered.

  She stood and tossed the stick aside. "To cross the Void, you’ll have to make steps of mana. Solid. Balanced. Too much, and you’ll shatter them. Too little, and you’ll fall through."

  He swallowed. "What happens if you fall?"

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  She looked toward the gate. "No one comes back."

  They stood before the Celestial Gate. Leonora placed a hand on its frame, and the shimmer parted like curtains in the wind.

  Rivian felt it at once: the pull. The world inside was brighter, greener, softer.

  "Stay calm," she said. "Focus your mana at your feet. Picture a solid step. One at a time. Don’t rush. Don’t let your mind wander. The Void preys on distraction."

  Together, they stepped forward.

  At once, the world dropped away.

  Everything became black.

  A void so vast it made Rivian feel small, like a flicker of flame in an endless cave. Below, he heard the cries—low, hollow, eternal. Souls screaming in languages long forgotten. Above, the Eye stirred. He didn’t see it, but he felt it, heavy and immense, a gaze that pierced to the core.

  Leonora exhaled and stepped forward. Her foot pressed into nothing, and yet a golden platform of light bloomed beneath it, a single step made of her mana. She moved again, another step forming.

  "Your turn," she said.

  Rivian gathered his breath. Focused.

  He reached inside himself and pushed. A step formed beneath his foot—golden, glowing—but it flickered.

  He stepped onto it. It held.

  Another step. It shimmered again, then cracked.

  His heart jumped. He stumbled.

  Leonora spun. "Focus! Don’t fight the Void. Don’t resist. Just balance."

  The cries rose louder. Something brushed his mind—memories, grief, fear. Whispers of failure.

  He shut his eyes. He thought of Leonora’s voice. Of the fire she carried. Of Luxvain’s hum. Of the feel of soil beneath his feet and the scent of the forests beyond.

  His next step held.

  Then another.

  The golden path formed slowly, step by step, through the pitch-black nothing. Each step glowed softly, their light the only stars in the abyss.

  Ahead, Leonora waited at the next gate—its arch tall and graceful, carved from ivory vines and shimmering stone. Beyond it, Elaria unfolded: endless trees, flowing rivers of light, songs in the wind.

  As Rivian reached the final step, his mana wavered once more. A flicker of doubt. A surge too strong. The step cracked.

  He gasped, flailing.

  Leonora grabbed his arm, anchoring him with a strength that steadied more than his body.

  "Breathe," she said, calm and firm. "Balance isn’t power. It’s control. Let go of the fear. Let the mana settle."

  He took a breath. Then another. Slowly, the golden step took shape beneath him.

  He nodded, eyes fixed forward.

  And together, they stepped into Elaria.

  Light burst around them—not harsh or blinding, but soft and radiant. The air changed instantly. The chill of the Void was gone, replaced by a cool breeze that carried the scent of wildflowers and dew.

  Rivian blinked, stunned. They stood in a forest unlike anything he had ever imagined. The trees towered like titans, their bark smooth and silver-green, their leaves glowing faintly with inner light. Streams of mana flowed gently through the air like translucent ribbons, brushing his skin with a gentle tingle.

  The sky above was an endless expanse of blue, richer than any he had seen. Wisps of cloud floated lazily, and birds with wings like folded silk glided between the treetops.

  He stepped forward, his boots pressing into soft, mossy ground that shimmered with life. He could feel the mana here—not just as power, but as presence. It welcomed him. It breathed.

  "This is Elaria," Leonora said beside him, her voice softer now. "I came here to meet an old companion. We adventured together years ago. She stayed behind to study with the Elari."

  Rivian looked around, wonder still lighting his eyes. "Do you think the elves know about the darkness we saw in Varnic? The summoner?"

  Leonora nodded slowly. "Maybe. If anyone knows what’s brewing in the realms, it’s the Elari. Their magic is old. Older than most of us can understand. If there are answers to be found... they’re here."

  She looked toward the heart of the forest, where the trees grew taller and the air shimmered with ancient song.

  "Let’s go find them." She whispered.