"... the nightmare that appeared in Ulster just an hour ago caused panic throughout the district. It was first spotted leaving Kelleher Quad. At the time of the nightmare's appearance, late-qualifiers for this year's Acadethalon were underway. Officials conducting the late-qualifiers did not have much to say about the incident, beyond noting that the nightmare's appearance interrupted one of the assessments and no one was injured."

  The broadcast continued. Several students stood around the large receiver, listening intently for any possible updates.

  Guild halls throughout Ulster were locked down and travel was being tightly restricted while guilds with the appropriate skills were being called upon to help hunt for the creature.

  The Aurora Athletic Assembly guild hall had become a flurry of activity. Despite travel restrictions imposed district-wide in response to the nightmare sighting, Academy board members had arrived to coordinate with proctors and guild officials. In one of the adjoining ready rooms, they were locked in deep discussion about the late-qualifiers' status and student safety protocols.

  Lowell, Bart, and Rina had already given their account of what happened during the challenge to the proctors, including mention of Weston Guild Academy's tampering with the maze's structure. For now, Cross Company was confined to an area near one of the fireplaces, not far from the radio.

  Flames crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air smelled of old smoke and quiet unease. Every few minutes, Lowell could hear the scrape of chairs being moved, the hushed murmurs of adults discussing logistics just out of earshot. Around them, students from other teams cast sidelong glances in Cross Company's direction, their conversations falling into whispers whenever they noticed Lowell, Bart, or Rina looking their way.

  Weston was sitting in another area of the guild hall, separated intentionally from Cross Company.

  The atmosphere was heavy with tension, the kind that settled when something had gone terribly wrong. Lowell's chest felt tight, a lingering unease that had nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with the nightmare's knowing eyes and that single word: Soon. His bloodstone pulsed warm beneath his shirt, the heat slowly fading but still present, a dull warning that refused to completely disappear.

  Shortly after the nightmare had escaped, Rina had turned on the members of the Weston team. Before anyone could stop her, and before Aleksie even knew what was coming, she decked him and he crumpled to the ground. It took the combined strength of Bart and Lowell to drag her away.

  Helena Oxford, flanked by senior instructors, was still giving her report outside the office. Her team huddled nearby, their posture tense as they watched the instructors. She had gone into the maze alone, leaving them behind, and now that authorities were involved, things might unravel in ways none of them had considered.

  Lowell happened to glance over to Aleksie and the other members of his team. Anzai was unreadable, but the other two, Hubert and Chen, seemed as nervous as Aleksie. Aleksie's gaze was locked on Helena as she spoke to the instructors.

  Helena gestured toward Cross Company's area, then swept her hand in Weston's direction. Even from this distance, Lowell could see her posture stiffen, her words seeming more emphatic as she continued her report. The senior instructors leaned in closer, their expressions growing more serious.

  Aleksie's jaw tightened imperceptibly, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His hands curled into loose fists at his sides, the deliberate attempt to appear casual betrayed by the tension in his shoulders. When Helena paused and looked in Weston's direction, Aleksie's eyes darted away, focusing on the ground and staying there.

  He's terrified of what she's saying. Lowell thought. It was Cross Company's word against Weston's, but Helena was well respected. Depending on her report, it could bode ill for Weston in the qualifiers.

  Lowell and Bart sat idly listening to the broadcast and the different conversations other students were having nearby, while Rina paced restlessly back and forth by the windows.

  Bart shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his usual energy noticeably absent. He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. "So..." He managed a weak grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We all agreed to retreat if the nightmare showed up, right? Just checking, because I'm pretty sure I remember a whole conversation about that earlier. 'Cause if the nightmare shows up, we abort the mission.'" He tried to make it sound like a joke, like he was just reminiscing about their planning, but his voice betrayed him. There was an edge of genuine concern, maybe even fear, in his voice that he couldn't quite mask.

  Lowell's gaze drifted toward the floor, a slight grimace forming on his face. The weight of Bart's words hit him. This wasn't just Bart being Bart; it was Bart genuinely scared and trying to laugh it off.

  Rina paused mid-pace, one foot planted awkwardly as she processed the question. Then she let out a breath that was half exasperation, half laugh. "Okay, fair point. But in our defense, we were a little busy trying not to die."

  "In our defense?" Bart raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips despite the gravity of what they'd just survived. "We were supposed to fall back, not face down a nightmare with Helena sealing a schism."

  "She needed us," Lowell said simply, his voice low. "And we couldn't leave her to do it alone."

  Rina muttered something under her breath and resumed pacing with renewed vigor.

  "It was the right choice." Lowell's voice held an edge of defensiveness. "We all made it out alive."

  Bart leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped to hide the tremors in them, his expression serious. "We got lucky, Lowell. That nightmare chose to leave. It wasn't afraid of us."

  Rina stopped her pacing, turning to face the room. "You're right, Bart. We all knew the plan and we all broke it." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And speaking of reckless, you practically threw yourself at the schism trying to grab that terminal."

  Bart's face flushed. "I was trying to get proof of their cheating!"

  "And nearly got yourself killed," Rina shot back. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Look, I'm not saying any of us made the right call. We all took unnecessary risks." Her hands rested on her hips, but Lowell could see them trembling slightly. She caught him looking and made a fist, stilling the tremor. "But at least we're all still here."

  Lowell opened his mouth to respond, but the radio crackled with an update before he could find the words.

  "This marks the second recorded sighting of a nightmare within city limits this month. The previous incident having happened at Orus Guild Academy..."

  Rina's pacing stopped dead. Her head snapped toward the radio, color rising in her cheeks. "Two schisms. Two!" She turned sharply to face her teammates, her voice rising. "Inside the city limits in less than a month!" A few students listening to the radio looked over following her outburst, but she paid them no mind, throwing her arms up in the air as she stalked over to the couch and dropped down next to Lowell, crossing her arms. "This isn't just bad luck. What's the point of the pylons if they're not protecting us?"

  Bart's hands fell to his sides, the earlier debate forgotten. He slumped back in his chair, tilting his head toward the ceiling with a sullen sigh. "I thought the pylons were supposed to absorb excess aetheric energy and stop this kind of thing from happening."

  "They're supposed to," Rina snapped, her voice edged with frustration. She turned to glare out at the sea of adults moving about the guild hall.

  Rina's frustration wasn't without merit, and Bart's observation was on point. The pylons were based on the design of ancient constructs, their original purpose tied to the early days of Dahncrest's reclamation.

  Large spires of finely cut and polished aethryte, the pylons acted as a networked barrier, designed to regulate and absorb volatile aetheric energy that coursed beneath the city. They worked like a filtration system, diffusing excess energy to prevent the concentrated buildup that could lead to schisms. Each pylon was intricately connected through leyline conduits, their magical frameworks maintained by guilders specializing in arcane engineering. As long as the network remained intact and balanced, the pylons were supposed to provide an impenetrable defense against incursions from the Mists beyond.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  They weren't infallible.

  The pylons required constant upkeep, and their inner workings were chaotic, reliant on the very energies they were supposed to regulate. Their cores resonated with fragments of Heraldic magic, echoes of the highly advanced techno-magical civilization that once ruled these lands before the Great Ruin.

  Under the right circumstances, a schism could form inside the city. Two schisms in rapid succession, however, was unprecedented, suggesting not just a failure of the pylons but something else at work.

  Bart rubbed his temples, echoing Rina's concern. "The pylons are supposed to keep us safe. If they're failing now, then either the system's degrading... or something is actively destabilizing it." He looked to Lowell, his voice quieter. "And if it's the second one, that's a much bigger problem than anyone's prepared to deal with."

  "What good are they if they're failing now?" Rina focused on the immediate impact of the incident. "We're supposed to be competing in qualifiers, not dodging nightmares."

  Lowell and Bart exchanged uneasy looks. "Rina," Lowell said carefully, "I think this is a bit bigger than the qualifiers."

  "Of course it's bigger!" Rina shot back, exasperated. "We should be doing something about it. If we were an officially recognized guild—"

  "We're not," Lowell cut in, holding up his hands. "And even if we were, this isn't something we can fix alone."

  Before Rina could argue further, a familiar voice interrupted. "She's right, though. At least, partially right."

  The members of Cross Company turned to see Jehta and Baerghard approaching. The two Orus instructors looked as though they had just come from the field, their armor worn and their cloaks dusted with debris. Despite their casual demeanors, something about the pair was sharper, quieter, hinting at more than their roles as instructors.

  "Master Grimm, Master Seif!" Bart leapt to his feet.

  Jehta waved him back down.

  "Sit, Allston," Jehta said, her voice light but firm. "No need to hurt yourself again." She turned her sharp gaze on the group. "Getting yourselves mixed up with nightmares again, eh?"

  Baerghard grinned broadly, his weathered face crinkling with amusement. "You kids have a real knack for finding trouble. Devil's luck, that's what it is."

  "It wasn't exactly our fault," Bart protested, though his tone lacked conviction.

  Baerghard laughed, a hearty sound that filled the room. "Fault or not, you've managed to walk away intact again, and that's what matters. I could've used a streak of your luck back in my day."

  "Master Grimm," Lowell said, his tone more serious, "no disrespect, but what are you and Master Seif doing here?"

  Jehta remained steady, her composure unbroken. "Officially, we're here to ensure the safety of our students, just like the other instructors."

  "And unofficially?" Rina pressed, her arms crossed.

  Baerghard leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. "We're here to see an old friend and hunt down your little nightmare."

  He tilted his head toward the far end of the hall, where a man in gleaming armor had just entered. His cape flowed behind him, and the insignia on his chestplate marked him as something more than a simple guild member. Bart's eyes widened in recognition.

  "Lowell, Bart, Rina," Jehta said, her tone formal for the first time. "This is Warden Theander."

  Theander approached with measured steps, his piercing gaze taking in each of them in turn. "A pleasure," he said, his voice calm but commanding. He inclined his head in a stiff bow. "I've heard a great deal about Cross Company's performance in the maze."

  Bart whispered, almost to himself, "A Mistguard warden?"

  "You said it yourself," Baerghard replied. "Two schisms in just about as many weeks. That's not something we can ignore."

  Theander's expression was grave. "One schism is rare. Two, with no warning signs, is troubling." He folded his hands behind his back. "The energy shifts were too rapid, the formations too stable. Something is interfering with the natural flow of aether in the city."

  "And you think we'll find answers here in Dahncrest?" Lowell asked.

  Theander looked at them gravely. "Answers and a threat. I understand you faced the nightmare directly. A testament to the guild academies, that students like yourselves can stand in the face of such a creature."

  Rina stepped forward, her determination clear. "If that's the case, let us help. We've already faced it once. We can handle it."

  Jehta shook her head, her tone gentler now. "Rina, this isn't a game."

  "Your enthusiasm is admirable, Miss Cross," Theander said, his tone firm but not unkind. "But this is a matter for experienced guilders. If you and your friends were hurt, I doubt your instructors or your families could forgive themselves."

  Baerghard, uncharacteristically serious, gave a solemn nod. "Listen to them, Rina. There's plenty of time for hunting nightmares once you're officially licensed."

  Rina's shoulders sagged, but she managed a small, rueful smile. "I suppose you're right."

  Theander's eyes lingered on her momentarily, his expression unreadable. "Trust me," he said quietly. "When your time comes, you'll have your chance to prove yourself."

  Before Rina could say anything, the solemnity of the moment was shattered as Freya's voice rang out, cutting through the hum of conversation in the guild hall. "How is any of this acceptable!?"

  Lowell watched her approach from across the room. Freya Ardith moved with the controlled fury of someone who had been arguing for hours and had just run out of patience. Her hair was out of its usual, perfect arrangement, her clothes were wrinkled and less crisp than they normally would be, and dark shadows ringed her eyes. Despite her exhaustion, her presence remained as commanding as ever.

  Several members of the guild hall attempted to intercept her, but she brushed past them with a dismissive wave, never breaking stride. Spotting Cross Company and the instructors, Freya marched straight toward them. "Jehta, Baerghard, Theander," she said flatly, not waiting for acknowledgment before drawing them aside for a hushed conversation.

  "What do you think happened?" Bart leaned in, his voice quiet.

  "No idea." Lowell was still watching Freya. "It can't have been good though."

  "Do you think it has anything to do with the results of the challenge?" Rina asked, not really expecting an answer.

  The three sat in silence, watching Freya and the others converse. Whatever questions or thoughts they had, they kept to themselves.

  When she returned, Freya sank into a nearby chair, rubbing her temples. For a long moment, she said nothing, the weight of the day's events clearly bearing down on her. Then, without looking up, she spoke. "The qualifiers are suspended for three days while the area is investigated."

  The group exchanged uneasy glances. "What about the artifact retrieval challenge?" Rina asked.

  Freya's tone hardened. "Despite the circumstances, the proctors have awarded the win to Weston."

  "What?" Rina's voice rose. "They were cheating!"

  "There's no evidence," Freya replied sharply. "The terminal you claimed they were using is gone, and the only recovered terminal was yours," she gestured vaguely to Bart. "And that terminal had coda on it that interfered with game rules."

  Rina and Lowell looked at Bart.

  "Hey! We didn't cheat!" Bart protested loudly, loud enough to draw attention again from nearby students and proctors.

  Freya waved him to calm down. "I know that."

  "If I hadn't disabled the hit meters or the safety fields, who knows what would have happened."

  "He has a point, Director." Lowell rubbed a stiff shoulder. "If those hit meters had disabled any of us, you might not be talking with us right now."

  Bart's face paled. "Hey, now... that's a bit grim, Lowell."

  Freya sighed. "Weston's terminal is gone, and the schism muddied any chance of a definitive ruling. Weston received a warning, but that's as far as the disciplinary action goes."

  Bart slumped in his seat, defeated. "Unbelievable."

  "It's not all bad news though." Freya sat forward, her gaze softening. "You've been given honorary recognition for your performance. The points you earned put you just behind Weston. You still have a chance to surpass them when the qualifiers resume."

  Lowell leaned back, considering her words. Despite her role as an authority figure, something about Freya's tone felt less like reprimand and more like encouragement. She wanted them to succeed. Maybe even needed them to.

  "Get some rest," Freya said, standing. "You'll need it."

  As she walked away, Lowell exchanged a glance with his teammates.

  "I bet it was Klein." Bart crossed his arms.

  Lowell blinked, his thoughts had begun to drift somewhere else. "The schism?"

  "No. Weston." Bart waved his hand in irritation. "I'd be willing to bet credits on the fact that he has some of the proctors here in his pocket and Weston only got a warning because of that. Because they are Klein's proxy."

  Lowell didn't say anything. But Klein wasn't his immediate concern right now.

  Theander and the others were right. This wasn't their fight, not yet at least. But something about the schisms, about the nightmare, and the strange presence of the Mistguard, left Lowell uneasy. His bloodstone had reacted twice now to schisms opening inside the city. Coincidence? He didn't think so.

  Whatever was happening in Dahncrest wasn't over. The nightmare had spoken to him—Soon—and the word echoed in his mind like a promise or a threat. Lowell had a feeling Cross Company wouldn't be able to avoid what was coming. For now, they could only focus on the qualifiers.

  But as he watched the adults move about the hall, coordinating their response to the threat, Lowell couldn't shake the sensation that they were all missing something important. Something that had nothing to do with the maze, or Weston, or even the qualifiers.

  Still, we'd better be prepared for anything.