Golden Dawn
Luna, Terra
Gaea Solar System
Milky Way Galaxy, Charlie Sector
Neutral Free Zone
February 17th 2019
"So what did you get from her?"
Leon didn't look at Emily when he spoke.
He stood near the observation window, one hand loosely holding a shard of unfinished metal—something half-shaped, half-forgotten among the clutter of the Forgemastery lab. The surface of it caught the light, bending it in strange ways, but Leon wasn't paying attention to that.
His gaze was elsewhere.
Far beyond the reinforced glass.
His eyes were no longer blue.
They had transformed into something radiant and unnatural—irises fractured into concentric rings like a miniature sun, rotating faintly with an inner, cosmic rhythm. The world unfolded differently through them. Threads of mana, faint distortions in space, the subtle rhythm of breath and thought—everything revealed, everything dissected.
And at the center of it—
Sam.
She sat among the Menhir stones, perfectly still, her body grounded, her mind sinking deeper into the flow of mana that circled her like a quiet tide. The stones hummed faintly, resonating with her presence, responding to her in ways that even the Golden Dawn researchers hadn't fully mapped.
Leon watched her like one would observe a phenomenon.
Not a person.
A variable.
A possibility.
Behind him, the lab breathed with a life of its own.
Arcane furnaces pulsed with controlled heat, their cores glowing like restrained suns. Instruments clicked and whirred, measuring, refining, analyzing. Tables were scattered with half-finished constructs—blades without edges, cores without housings, metals that shimmered with properties not yet understood.
At the center of it all—
Emily.
She stepped away from her workstation, removing her goggles with a slow, deliberate motion. Strands of her pale hair clung to her face, dampened slightly from the heat of the forge array. In her hand, she still held a fragment of the stone she had recovered from Promontory Point.
It wasn't normal.
Even now, it resisted her.
The surface of the rock didn't reflect light correctly—it absorbed it, twisted it, like it existed half a fraction out of sync with reality itself. Every attempt to analyze it had yielded inconsistent results, as if the object refused to be understood by conventional means.
Interesting.
Annoying.
Fascinating.
"She seems stable," Emily said at last, setting the fragment down carefully. "More than I expected."
Leon's grip tightened slightly on the metal in his hand, though his gaze never left Sam.
"Stable isn't what I asked."
Emily exhaled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"The girl has talent," she said. "A frightening amount of it." Her eyes flicked toward him briefly. "Comparable to yours."
A pause.
"And Rex's."
Leon's jaw shifted.
A subtle thing.
Barely noticeable.
But the temperature in the room seemed to drop a fraction.
Emily noticed.
Of course she did.
She always did.
"Ah," she murmured, tilting her head slightly. "There it is."
Leon finally turned his head—slowly, deliberately. The golden rings in his eyes dimmed just enough to reveal something colder beneath them.
"We were talking about the Sinclair girl."
Emily didn't look away.
"No," she said calmly. "You were avoiding the comparison."
Silence stretched between them, thin and taut like a wire ready to snap.
Leon broke it first.
"Why don't you just get to the point?"
Emily leaned lightly against the edge of her workstation, folding her arms.
"Fine," she said. "She's not just talented. She's… aligned."
Leon's gaze sharpened.
"Aligned how?"
Emily hesitated—not out of uncertainty, but precision. Choosing the exact word.
"Responsive," she corrected. "To forces she shouldn't even be aware of yet. The Menhir stones reacted to her almost immediately. No resistance. No rejection. That doesn't happen."
Leon looked back at Sam.
This time, his perception sharpened further.
The world slowed.
Mana currents unfolded like threads of light, revealing their flow, their direction—how they bent around her, how they listened.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
Emily watched him for a moment before speaking again.
"So I'll ask the obvious question," she said. "Why haven't you spoken to her?"
Leon's expression didn't change.
"I don't trust her."
Simple.
Flat.
Final.
Emily studied him, her gaze narrowing slightly.
"And yet," she said, her tone quieter now, "she's the one you've been dreaming about."
That—
That made something flicker.
Not on his face.
Deeper.
A disturbance beneath the surface.
Leon said nothing.
Because she wasn't wrong.
The dreams had been too consistent.
Too precise.
Too… intentional.
And that was what bothered him.
Dreams, in the arcane world, were never just dreams.
They were messages.
Echoes.
Or worse—
Interference.
"Still," Emily continued, her voice softer but no less pointed, "that has to mean something. You of all people know that."
Leon's eyes narrowed slightly.
Yes.
It meant something.
But not necessarily something good.
There was a hand behind it.
There had to be.
And if his suspicion was correct—
It wasn't a distant force.
It wasn't an unknown entity.
It was someone close.
Someone who had access.
Someone who knew him well enough to reach into his subconscious without resistance.
His gaze snapped back to Sam.
And then—
She was gone.
Leon blinked.
Once.
The space she had occupied was empty.
No transition.
No movement.
Just—
Absence.
The mana flow shifted in her wake, disturbed like water after something had slipped beneath its surface.
Leon stood up slowly.
The metal shard in his hand fell to the floor with a dull clang, forgotten.
"Huh," he said quietly.
But there was no confusion in his voice.
Only interest.
****
Sam remained within the circle of the menhir stones long after the others had withdrawn, the world beyond fading into a distant, irrelevant murmur. The ancient pillars loomed around her like silent sentinels, their surfaces etched with timeworn grooves that pulsed faintly with residual mana—as if they remembered every Ascendant who had ever sat where she now did.
She closed her eyes.
Her awareness sank inward.
The mindscape opened.
It was no longer unfamiliar to her. A vast inner expanse stretched before her—dark, quiet, and endless—yet at its center hovered the same sphere of condensed mana. A trembling star yet to be born. It pulsed faintly, breathing in slow, uneven rhythms, like a heart that did not yet understand how to beat.
Sam focused on it.
Every Ascendant had an Odic force—mental energy, the foundation of internal perception. But that was only the beginning. Growth demanded structure. A center. A nucleus.
A star core.
She exhaled slowly and reached for the sphere with her will.
It resisted.
Not violently—but passively. Like water slipping through her fingers no matter how tightly she tried to grasp it.
Again.
She pressed her intent into it, sharper this time, more deliberate. The sphere rippled, destabilizing for a fraction of a second—then returned to its original state, unchanged. Untouched.
Sam frowned.
Again.
And again.
Hours blurred.
The sun climbed, then began its slow descent, casting shifting shadows across the stone circle. Sweat gathered at her brow despite her stillness. Her breathing deepened, then steadied, then strained. Each attempt drained her focus just a little more.
Still—nothing.
Her will would not imprint.
It was like trying to command something that did not recognize her authority.
Frustration flickered beneath her calm.
By the time the light had softened into late afternoon gold, Sam finally withdrew from her mindscape, her eyes opening to the quiet hum of the world around her. The sphere remained unchanged.
Untouched.
She clenched her jaw slightly, then released the tension.
If she couldn't force progress there… she would sharpen what she could control.
Sam rose to her feet and began cycling her mana.
Flow control.
Her mana moved like a current through her pathways—smooth, continuous, deliberate. She guided it with precision, weaving it through her body in controlled circuits.
Then—
Counterflow.
She reversed it.
The mana clashed against itself, currents colliding in controlled opposition. Where flow was harmony, counterflow was resistance—pressure, friction, refinement.
Her body trembled slightly as she maintained both states in sequence, forcing her control to adapt, to sharpen, to evolve.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Time dissolved into repetition.
She missed lunch.
She missed dinner.
Yet hunger never came.
Mana filled the absence.
It seeped into her muscles, her bloodstream, her very cells—sustaining her, refining her. Strength coiled quietly beneath her skin, subtle but undeniable. Each movement felt lighter, cleaner, more efficient.
When she finally stopped, the world had darkened.
Sam exhaled, long and steady, before opening her eyes.
She stood.
Her fingers flexed.
Power answered.
Her muscles responded with a quiet elasticity—denser, stronger, yet unburdened by weight. Her body felt… optimized. As if inefficiencies had been quietly stripped away.
She took a step.
The ground felt lighter beneath her.
Her thoughts sharpened, clarity threading through her mind at a speed that almost startled her. Calculations formed and resolved instinctively. Perceptions layered over one another with unnatural precision.
It was intoxicating.
And unsettling.
What am I supposed to do with this…?
The thought lingered as she raised her hand, preparing to summon her status window—
—and froze.
Something had entered her awareness.
Not through sight.
Through instinct.
Sam turned slowly.
There, at the edge of the stone circle, stood a creature.
A deer.
But not a mundane one.
Its body shimmered faintly with golden light, as though forged from sunlight and memory. Its antlers branched wide and intricate, resembling a crown grown from nature itself. And its eyes—
Black.
Endless.
They fixed onto her.
Sam's breath caught.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then—
The deer turned.
And began to walk away.
A quiet pull stirred in her chest.
Not a command.
Not a voice.
Something softer.
Irresistible.
Sam stepped forward.
Then another.
And another.
The menhir stones faded behind her as she followed, her movements silent, her thoughts dimming beneath the gentle, creeping influence of whatever force the creature carried.
Branches brushed against her arms.
Leaves whispered underfoot.
The forest deepened.
Shadows thickened.
Still she followed.
Until—
Her foot caught on uneven ground.
Sam stumbled.
The break in rhythm snapped something loose inside her.
Her awareness surged back.
She blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The trance shattered.
"…What…?"
She turned in place, breath quickening as she took in her surroundings.
The forest had swallowed her whole.
Towering trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their canopies choking out the last remnants of daylight. The wind moved through them in low, whispering currents, carrying a chill that seeped into her skin.
The deer was gone.
Only silence remained.
Sam swallowed.
Her instincts sharpened immediately, tension coiling in her limbs.
This is bad.
She turned, orienting herself as best she could.
She had been warned.
The deeper forest housed Mystical beasts—predators that did not hesitate, creatures that fed on mana, flesh, or both.
Staying here was a mistake.
She began walking.
Then quickened her pace.
As she moved, her thoughts drifted—unbidden.
Aunt Stella.
It had been a while.
Too long.
And now… everything had changed.
The seal.
The truth of her suppressed awakening.
Questions pressed at the edges of her mind, heavy and unresolved.
I need to talk to her.
The decision settled quietly within her.
She would go back to Cedar Lake.
She needed answers.
She needed—
Her foot came down.
Into water.
But there had been no water.
No stream.
No sound.
No reflection.
Just—
impact.
The surface collapsed beneath her like broken glass.
Sam's body dropped instantly.
Cold surged upward, swallowing her whole.
Her breath hitched as icy liquid rushed past her lips, flooding her mouth before she could react. The world twisted into distorted ripples of dark blue and silver as she plunged deeper, weightless and disoriented.
Light fractured above her.
The forest vanished.
Silence roared.
And something—far below—waited.
Sam's mind fractured into raw instinct.
What the hell—?!
The thought didn't even finish forming before water forced its way down her throat.
Cold—unnatural, suffocating—wrapped around her body like a living thing. It surged into her mouth, her lungs, her sinuses, tearing away any chance to breathe. Her limbs jerked violently as panic overtook her, every movement clumsy and desperate.
She sank.
Not slowly.
Not naturally.
She was pulled downward.
The surface above her shattered into distorted light, shrinking, warping—then vanishing entirely as darkness swallowed her whole.
Her chest burned.
Her thoughts scattered.
She couldn't focus.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't—
I'm going to die.
The realization struck with brutal clarity.
And something inside her snapped.
No.
Her eyes flared open in the darkness.
No—I'm not.
Mana surged.
Not gently. Not controlled.
It erupted.
Sam forced it inward, instinct overriding logic, dragging the current of energy into her chest—into her lungs. The mana wrapped around them like a second organ, compressing, reinforcing, changing.
Her body convulsed.
Then—
The water expelled.
Violently.
A burst of pressure forced the liquid out of her airway, spilling from her lips in a stream of shimmering bubbles. Her lungs expanded again—this time supported, sustained.
She inhaled.
And breathed.
Not air.
But something else.
Her breathing stabilized—not natural, but functional. Mana filled the gaps where oxygen should have been, sustaining her body in a way she didn't fully understand.
Her heartbeat slowed.
Her panic receded—just enough.
Sam steadied herself.
And then she looked.
Darkness.
Endless.
But not empty.
Her instincts screamed.
Danger coiled in every direction, pressing against her awareness like unseen predators circling just beyond sight.
Then—
A ripple.
Space itself trembled in the distance.
Something moved.
A faint yellow glow pulsed below her—deep, distant, wrong.
Sam didn't wait.
She kicked upward.
Her body cut through the water, arms pulling, legs driving—but something felt… off.
She swam.
And swam.
And swam—
But the surface never came closer.
Her chest tightened again—not from suffocation, but from the creeping realization.
I'm not going up.
Her movements slowed.
Stopped.
She hovered there, suspended in the dark, forcing herself to think.
Think.
Panic would kill her faster than anything else here.
Sam shifted her mana downward, focusing it beneath her feet. The energy condensed, thickening, hardening—until it formed a solid plane beneath her soles.
She stepped onto it.
The water pressed in immediately, trying to break it apart, currents gnawing at the construct—but Sam clenched her jaw and reinforced it, compacting the mana further, forcing it to hold.
It stabilized.
Barely.
But it was enough.
Sam exhaled slowly, grounding herself.
Then she moved.
Her stance lowered, body aligning instinctively as she entered the first form of the Adamantium Fist.
Her foot pressed against the mana platform—
—and she felt.
Vibrations.
Subtle at first.
Then clearer.
The water became a medium of information, every ripple, every shift translating into a map within her mind.
Something moved.
No—
two things.
Fast.
Closing in.
Sam's eyes sharpened as the shapes formed within her perception.
Massive.
Streamlined.
Predatory.
Sharks.
But wrong.
Too large.
Too dense.
Their jaws stretched wider than any natural creature, lined with jagged, serrated fangs that caught even the faintest glimmer of light.
They came straight for her.
No hesitation.
No warning.
Sam shifted.
Second form.
Aversion.
Mana spiraled outward from her core, forming a thin ring around her body—unstable, flickering, incomplete.
But active.
The first shark entered the ring.
And the moment it did—
Its momentum twisted.
The water warped around it, its trajectory bending sharply to the side as if something had grabbed it mid-charge and thrown it off course.
It missed her by inches.
The second followed.
Same result.
But Sam felt it.
The strain.
Her muscles tightened, veins flaring under her skin as the technique fought against forces far heavier than she was prepared for.
More movement.
Three more.
They came from different angles this time—faster, more aggressive.
Sam adjusted—
Twist.
Redirect.
Push.
Again.
Again—
Her footing trembled.
The mana platform beneath her flickered under the pressure.
Her control wavered.
I can't keep this up.
The realization hit hard.
She needed an exit.
Now.
Sam reactivated her sensory footwork, pushing it further, deeper—forcing her awareness outward.
The world sharpened.
Expanded.
And then—
There.
A distortion.
Below.
Her eyes snapped open.
Down?
No time to question it.
She dropped the platform.
Her body sank—
Then surged forward.
Sam kicked downward, her body cutting through the water as the creatures turned, pursuing instantly.
Faster.
Hungrier.
She reached into her Dimensional Band mid-motion, pulling the vambrace free in one fluid movement. It snapped onto her arm, locking into place as she willed it open.
The triangular shield unfolded with a sharp metallic click, its edges gleaming faintly even in the dark.
One of the creatures lunged.
Too close.
Sam twisted—
—and drove the sharpened edge straight into its head.
Resistance.
Then rupture.
The creature jerked violently as the blade pierced through bone and flesh, its body convulsing before going limp. Dark fluid bled into the water, spreading like ink.
She ripped the shield free.
Another came.
She slashed again.
Clean.
Efficient.
But more followed.
Too many.
Sam gritted her teeth and pushed harder, mana flooding into her legs.
Her heartbeat synced with her movement.
Faster.
The water blurred around her.
The light below grew stronger—closer—
A boundary.
An opening.
That's it.
She surged forward—
—and saw it.
The exit.
But as she approached—
It shifted.
The opening began to close.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Like something on the other side was sealing it shut.
Sam's eyes narrowed.
Someone's doing this.
Her pulse spiked—but this time, it fueled her.
She centered herself mid-motion.
Second footwork.
Activated fully.
Her body lightened—
Then—
Burst.
She accelerated.
Explosively.
The water behind her collapsed under the force of her movement as she shot forward like a bullet.
The gap narrowed—
Smaller—
Smaller—
Sam thrust her hand forward—
—and broke through.
The world snapped.
Water vanished.
Air returned.
She erupted from the surface in a violent surge, flipping midair before landing hard on solid ground, her feet skidding slightly against the earth.
She staggered.
Then steadied.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she sucked in air—real air this time—her lungs adjusting back to normal function.
Silence.
The forest.
Cold wind brushed against her skin.
Sam froze.
Then slowly looked down.
Her clothes—
Dry.
Completely dry.
Not a single drop of water clung to her.
No weight.
No dampness.
Nothing.
As if she had never fallen in at all.
Her breathing slowed.
But the unease remained.
Because she knew—
That hadn't been water.
And something…
Had been watching her the entire time.