Arthur stood by the window, watching the sun rise over the Ashborn Estate.

  It should have been a beautiful morning. The sky was a pale blue, and frost on the trees glittered.

  But currently he was not looking at the scenery. He was looking at the birds.

  There were none.

  Usually, the morning air was filled with the cawing of crows or the chirping of the birds. Today, the sky was empty. Even the wind itself seemed to be holding its breath.

  Static, Arthur noted, rubbing his arm. The hairs on his skin were standing up. The air was dry, but the pressure kept dropping as minutes pass, it feels like a thunderstorm is building, but there are no clouds.

  He turned away from the window to grab his clothes. He walked to the wardrobe, pulled a fresh shirt, and tossed it onto the bed.

  Then he froze.

  He looked at the nightstand next to the bed. Leaning against the wood, untouched, was his cane

  Arthur looked down at his legs. He was standing in the middle of the room. He hadn’t limped or stumbled. He didn’t even think about it.

  “Is this related to the book or the meeting with the first Ancestor?” Arthur Whispered

  He flexed his right leg, the muscle still felt denser, but the constant, gnawing ache that usually greeted him in the morning had faded to a dull, manageable throb.

  He was not cured, but still his condition improved by a lot, he wasn’t dragging dead weight anymore.

  But his victory was cut short by a sudden, sharp sensation in his chest. It wasn’t pain but Pressure.

  It felt like the air in the room had suddenly become heavier. Even the water in the Glass bottle rippled, though nothing had touched it.

  “The man is shifting; The Great Tides are returning”. Magnus’s warning crashed into his mind

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  Arthur scrambled back to the window. He looked at the horizon; the pale blue sky was definitely darkening.

  “Magnus didn’t just warn me,” He realized, his blood running cold. "He gave me a countdown.” He didn’t waste another second. He grabbed his cane in case he needed it and bolted out of the room.

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  Roderick Ashborn sat in the study between the usual stacks of paperwork, a cup of lukewarm coffee next to him. Across from him, Old Marcus stood by the fireplace, stoking the Embers.

  “Two days,” Roderick sighed, rubbing his temples. “How can we fix the Iron in just 2 Days??”

  “Well, such is life my dear friend. Just convince Sylvia to give you more time” Marcus grunted, not looking back from the fire.

  BANG!! The study door flew Open.

  Roderick spilled some of his coffee. Marcus spun around, his hands instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.

  Arthur stumbled into the room gripping the doorframe for support.

  “Oliver? Roderick stood up immediately, his annoyance replaced by concern. “What is it? Is it your leg? Do you need a healer?”

  “Father, the sky "Arthur said pointing his finger to the window.

  Roderick frowned. He glanced at the window. “The sky? It looks a bit overcast”, Oliver. Calm down, you are shaking.”

  “It is not clouds!” Arthur insisted. He turned to the High Mage. “Marcus please, can’t you feel it? The birds are gone too. The air itself is getting thicker with every passing minute.”

  Marcus eyes narrowed. He looked at the boy, then at the window. He saw the faint clouds tint bleeding into the blue. Nonetheless, He closed his eyes and extended his senses.

  For a second, the room was silent. Roderick watched the exchange between the two with a questionable look. Then, Marcus’s eyes snapped open. The Amber light within them flared, not with anger, but genuine shock.

  “Impossible,” Marcus whispered.

  “What is it?” Roderick demanded, his voice hardening. “Marcus?”

  “The density,” The Old Mage said. “It is rising exponentially. It was normal just 10 minutes ago. Now...it is doubling every minute.”

  He walked to the window, staring at the horizon now covered with clouds. “This isn’t a fluctuation, Roderick. This a Great Tide.”

  Roderick expression turned grim. The color drained from his face; he knew what that meant.

  “A Mana rampage?” Roderick muttered. “We haven’t had one in fifty years. The last one wiped out the Southern region.”

  The Viscount looked at his son, then at his friend. The shock only lasted a second then he slammed his hand on the desk.

  “Sound the Emergency Alarm,” Roderick commanded, his voice booming. “And Marcus, seal the perimeter. I want everyone in the central hall within fifteen minutes. Initiate evacuation protocols of all citizens”.

  “On it,” Marcus said, his Amber aura flaring up.

  “Oliver,” Roderick turned to his son. “Go straight to the Hall. Do not stop and do not wander off, I will be overseeing the evacuation.”

  Oliver nodded. “Yes, Father.”

  Arthur turned and hurried out; he had done all he could.

  CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

  The Alarm bells began to ring, a mournful, rhythmic sound that echoed on every house of the Territory.

  (To be continued...)