Aiden shifted his weight, arms crossing as he tilted his head, eyebrows raised in a crooked smirk. "So... we just close our eyes and focus, picturing the Sanctum? That's it?" His fingers flicked at the pendant like it was a trinket off a market stall.

  Sentinel's voice sliced through the air, soft but edged like a drawn blade. "I think you didn't hear Cassandra correctly." His boots stirred faint dust as he stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over them like a winter wind.

  "You must connect with your pendant, not through thought, but through the heart. Feel it. Only then will the Eclipse heart hear you. Only then can you call for the Gates."

  The space between them seemed to shrink, the quiet pressing in.

  Lyric shifted her weight from foot to foot, thumb brushing the delicate chain at her neck, shoulders pulled in tight. Alice's jaw set hard, eyes darting toward the others with a glint of determination barely masking the tightness in her throat. Thorne rocked on his heels, a slow exhale slipping through his nose, the faint tremor in his fingers betraying the calm mask. Aiden's smirk twitched, faltered, and faded, the sharpness in his eyes dulling. Elias felt his stomach coil, a knot tightening beneath his ribs.

  One by one, their gazes flicked to each other. No words. No need. Slowly, lids fell shut.

  The air grew dense, pressing down on their shoulders with unseen force.

  Elias tightened his fingers around the pendant, the cool metal biting into his palm. His breath stumbled in his throat, chest rising in a shallow pull of air. Intent... focus... heart... The words echoed like a drumbeat, hollow and impatient.

  Aiden's brow furrowed, teeth pressing into his lower lip. Lyric's lips moved in a faint whisper, the tremble in her voice barely audible. Alice's fingers dug into the pendant, knuckles paling. Thorne's mouth twisted, words slipping out sharp and low, half-prayer, half-curse.

  Stillness.

  No pulse of magic. No whisper of change.

  The seconds dragged, stretching thin.

  Alice's shoulders sagged first, her exhale shaky as she peeled one eye open. "Why isn't this working?" The edges of her voice cracked, frustration bleeding through.

  Aiden dragged his hands through his hair, pacing in a tight circle as tension edged his voice. “I know this thing’s supposed to matter, but if it doesn’t do something soon, I’m sending it into orbit.”

  Thorne let out a dry, half-laugh, fingers brushing over the pendant at his neck as if testing whether it was more than just cold metal. “Yeah, well, right now it feels like we’re wearing fancy jewelry, not gearing up to save the world.”

  Lyric huffed a laugh that skidded close to a groan. "Intent, focus, picture the Sanctum... maybe if I scream at it, it'll listen."

  Cassandra crossed her arms, her voice cutting in with calm bluntness. “It’s not as simple as you think. The Eclipse Heart doesn’t just answer because you want it to. Connecting with it takes time, trust, and the Gates don’t open until that bond is real.”

  Elias drew in a long breath, shoulders drooping. "I think... maybe we just don't have a strong enough connection yet. That's why the Gates aren't appearing." he murmured, the words dragging slow, heavy.

  Sentinel's gaze locked on Elias, unshaken even as the others shifted restlessly in the cold hush, Aiden's fingers drummed against his thigh, Alice's nails bit into her palm, Lyric clutched her pendant like it might slip away, and Thorne rocked on his heels, sharp breaths stirring the dust. Cassandra stood with arms folded tight, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp, watching and waiting.

  They are young, Vaelthar whispered through Sentinel’s mind, smooth as silk, heavy as stone, a presence more felt than heard. This is their first time, Sentinel. You must guide them. It will not be easy.

  Sentinel's jaw flexed, a slow breath slipping past his lips. His eyes softened, not in pity, but in understanding, as they lingered on Elias: the subtle hunch of his shoulders, the fine tremor at his jaw, the white-knuckled grip on the pendant pressed hard to his chest.

  Being a leader is never easy, Vaelthar murmured again, a thread of old memory coiling through the words. But Elias... his connection runs deeper. The Eclipse Heart knows it, as it once knew us. Help him feel it. Show him how to listen.

  Sentinel's gaze flickered, a shadow of something, memory, maybe, or the ache of old duty, passing through his eyes. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, boots whispering across the stone.

  "Elias."

  The name was a stone dropped into still water, quiet, but the ripples reached everywhere.

  Elias's head jerked up, breath caught halfway, chest tight. His eyes met Sentinel's, wide and unsteady.

  Sentinel crouched, lowering himself just enough that his voice dropped to a hush, like a secret passed between only them.

  "You're trying too hard, Elias." His words were soft, but they slipped beneath the skin. "You're fighting the current, forcing it to obey. You can't command it with your mind."

  His arms remained at his sides, his posture still, grounded. His eyes, cool steel laced with old ash, softened just enough to pierce through the tension crackling in the air.

  "Quiet the noise inside you. Stop reaching outward. Let the Eclipse heart come to you."

  Elias's throat bobbed. His grip on the pendant tightened, not desperate, not this time, but anchoring. A slow inhale parted his lips, shaking at first, then steadier. His lashes fell, shutting out the world.

  Around him, the air shifted.

  Aiden stilled mid-pace, brow furrowing. Alice's shoulders loosened, a line between her brows smoothing. Lyric lowered her hands, lips parted on a breath. Thorne leaned forward, a flicker of nervous anticipation flickering across his face. Cassandra, at the edge, tilted her head, one brow lifting ever so slightly.

  The silence stretched, deep and unbroken, as if the very air was holding its breath. Elias stood at the center, fingers clenched around the pendant, its edges pressing into his skin. His eyes closed, and with it, there was nothing, only darkness, as familiar and empty as every other moment before. No sensation, no change, just an endless void.

  He strained to focus, to sense something—anything—new, something unknown stirring inside him. But there was nothing. No spark, no shift. Just the same, relentless stillness.

  His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven breaths, but even that seemed to echo in the silence, without purpose or meaning.

  "It's... still not working," he whispered, his voice barely a sound, lost in the quiet. The words barely stirred the air, but they reached the others all the same.

  Aiden shifted, doubt flashing across his face. Alice crossed her arms, gaze steady but uncertain. Lyric stood motionless, fingers brushing together, hesitation in her gaze. Thorne, usually restless, hovered at the edge of the circle, his shoulders tight, mouth drawn in a line.

  Beside Elias, Sentinel's presence was a quiet anchor, a stillness that anchored him to the moment. His voice cut through the pulse of uncertainty, smooth and unhurried, like water flowing over stone, steady and calming.

  “Breathe,” the whisper slid into Elias’s mind, soft and patient, a breeze ruffling through still air. There was no force behind it, no command, only a gentle urging that settled beneath his skin. “Let go… stop reaching for it… let it come.”

  A faint tremor moved through Elias, not sharp or jolting, but deep and quiet, like a ripple running outward from his spine. His fingers, once clenched tightly around the pendant, gradually loosened. His shoulders, once pulled taut, eased lower, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his back no longer felt stiff with tension. A shaky breath slipped past his lips, slower now, uneven, but no longer caught in his throat.

  Then, without warning, the world around him faded.

  One blink, and the mall, the others, all of it dissolved, leaving him standing alone in a space that stretched out in every direction. White surrounded him, soft and boundless, with no edges or corners. No walls, no floor, no ceiling. Only the pale, endless light, pressing in gently, as if the world had been wrapped in quiet.

  Elias turned in place, his boots making no sound against the ground that didn’t seem to be there. His heart beat steadily, a slow drumbeat in his chest, as his eyes searched the vast white around him. His lips parted as if to speak, to call out, but no sound came. The silence was too deep, too complete, and for a while, there was only the strange, weightless feel of waiting.

  And then, just at the edge of his vision, something stirred.

  A flicker of pale blue and silver shimmered in the distance, no larger than a spark, yet it pulsed with a quiet pull, a presence that felt uncannily like the Eclipse Heart. Elias’s fingers lifted instinctively, reaching before his mind could catch up. But as his hand moved, the light drifted away, slipping just beyond his grasp, as though drawn along by a current only it could sense. A tightness coiled in his chest, the old, restless urge to chase burning through his veins, even as doubt whispered at the edges of his thoughts.

  He reached out again, his fingers trembling as they stretched toward the light, but it slipped further away, like a whisper he couldn’t quite catch. His breath caught, and he tried again, muscles straining, desperation creeping into his chest. The light danced just out of reach, mocking him.

  A sharp breath hissed between his teeth as he pulled his hand back, frustration bubbling to the surface. His chest heaved with each uneven inhale, but the world around him felt still, too still, like everything was holding its breath, waiting for him to fail.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  A cold voice broke the silence, jagged and familiar, slicing through the air like a blade. "Do you think you can catch it?"

  Elias froze, his heart stumbling in his chest. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was. He knew that voice, as familiar as his own.

  Alaric stood at his side, arms crossed, his figure imposing and unforgiving in the endless white. His gaze was sharp, calculating, and full of contempt. "You're not like my other children," he sneered, his lips curling into something like a smirk. "You're a disappointment, Elias. Always will be."

  Elias’s breath faltered, the words landing heavy, settling in the pit of his stomach like stones. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. His throat felt tight, like a vice was clenching around it, stopping the words before they could reach his lips.

  His shoulders trembled with the effort to hold it together. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

  His gaze flickered, desperate for anything to break the suffocating silence. But then, another voice, low, almost soothing in its finality, joined the chorus.

  "You’re wasting your time." Morgana’s voice slid in like an echo, her tone clipped, dismissive. "You’ll never catch it. Stop trying."

  Elias’s chest tightened further, a hollow ache forming where hope had once been. His fingers clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. Why? Why did they always make him feel like this?

  "Why won’t you just accept it?" Morgana’s words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of something he could never live up to.

  Then came Damien, his voice cool and detached, as if it were a simple fact. "You’re pathetic," he muttered, eyes not meeting Elias’s, gaze instead focused on the ground. "It’s no surprise you can’t do it. Never have."

  Lucián’s laugh was bitter, devoid of humor. "Face it, Elias. You’ll always be the weak link. Just stop pretending you’re something you're not."

  Serena’s voice, quiet and final, brushed against him like a cold wind. "You’ll never be anything but a shadow."

  Elias flinched as if each word was a physical blow. His jaw clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. He tried to speak, to say something but his voice failed him, lost in the cacophony of their words. The light in front of him flickered once more, teasing him with its gentle glow, but it didn’t draw closer.

  His chest constricted, the weight of their words pressing down like a storm.

  And then, another voice, soft but unwavering, broke through the chaos. Not one of them.

  "Clear your mind," Sentinel’s voice was calm, steady, as though it were pulling him from the depths of a storm. "Stop chasing it. Let it come to you."

  The words wrapped around him like a lifeline. Slowly, cautiously, Elias pulled his shoulders back, allowing the tension to slip from his muscles. He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath, pushing away the voices of his family, their harsh judgments, their expectations.

  It wasn’t about them. It never had been.

  His gaze shifted back to the light.

  The echo of his family’s words still lingered, sharp and cold, but something inside him had shifted. He wasn't reaching anymore. He wasn't chasing. He simply was.

  He took a deep breath, his chest filling with a quiet certainty. His voice was low, almost a murmur, but the words were crystal clear. “I know they were wrong,” he said, the weight of his family’s judgment dissipating with each passing breath. “I’m more than what they think I am.”

  His fingers, still outstretched, didn’t move. He wasn’t trying to force anything. He just waited.

  “I’m here,” he continued, his eyes softening. “If you’re ready, I’ll be here, waiting. Not chasing. Not desperate. Just... waiting.”

  For a heartbeat, the light hung suspended in the pale space, its light trembling on the edge of retreat. Then, almost imperceptibly at first, it began to drift forward, slow and sure, as if testing the space between them. Elias watched, a quiet breath catching in his throat, as the shimmer closed the last of the distance, pale blue and silver brushing against his fingertips.

  He opened his palm, welcoming it.

  The moment the glow touched his skin, a delicate warmth began to spread through his hand, not sharp or blazing, but soft and steady, like the gentle thawing of cold fingers after a long winter. It traveled up through his arm, weaving its way toward the tightness in his chest that had sat there, heavy and silent, for so long.

  And then, as if drawn by some unseen thread, the white around him dissolved.

  In the span of a breath, the hush of that otherworldly space slipped away, and he was back, the cool air of the mall brushing his skin, the faint sound of shuffling feet and rustling clothes folding into his senses. His eyes remained closed, the soft edge of a smile still on his lips, even as the presence of the others pressed in around him, a circle of held breath and waiting gazes.

  Then, slowly, his fingers eased open, lifting away from the pendant resting against his chest. But the warmth did not fade or slip away. It remained, as if it had always been part of him, a quiet presence that no longer needed to be grasped to be known.

  The air shifted, just a whisper at first, the lightest stir of movement brushing against his skin, lifting a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the kind of moment the world offers just before the first light spills across the horizon.

  A faint crack, brittle and sharp, fractured the hush, like ice breaking beneath a careful step. And then, the light came.

  It unfurled from the pendant, spilling into the air, a glow that rippled outward in slow, delicate waves. Blue radiance slipped across the polished floor, weaving through scattered reflections, brushing over shoes and stretched shadows alike, not in a blinding flash, but in a soft, steady bloom, as if even the wide, open air of the mall had paused, holding its breath.

  Thorne's breath hitched in his throat, eyes widening as the light spread outward. For a long moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, and then, as though unable to contain it any longer, a soft laugh slipped from his lips. The sound was breathless, full of disbelief. "Holy crap..." he whispered, his grin wild, stretching across his face like a living thing. "That's... new."

  Lyric's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes glistening, the tears caught in the corner of her gaze. "Elias... look at you," she whispered, voice cracking with wonder.

  Alice took a tentative step forward, her words stumbling over each other. "How... how is he doing that?"

  Aiden stood frozen for a heartbeat, his mouth working but no words coming out. "Okay, yeah—definitely not a paperweight," he muttered, his shock still heavy in the air.

  But Sentinel, standing just beside Elias, remained unchanged. His expression, usually carved from stone, held only the faintest flicker of quiet approval, almost imperceptible. With a small gesture, his hand rose, palm open, his voice a steady current that cut through the rising noise. "Let him focus."

  Elias’s pendant pulsed once more, not with a blinding brilliance, but with something far more resonant, more alive. The glow unfurled, creeping across the cold floor, its warmth seeping into the earth, wrapping around their forms like a soft, unseen current. The light caressed their faces, gentle yet insistent, as though drawing forth a forgotten memory, stirring something deep within them.

  Elias's face, slack at first, shifted into a mask of concentration. His breathing slowed, deepened, each inhale matching the rhythm of the pendant's glow. His brow furrowed, not with effort, but with an ache that settled in his chest, like something trying to break free.

  "Now, Elias," Sentinel's voice rumbled, low and sure, cutting through the quiet like the first streak of light at dawn. "Call the Sanctum. Call for the Gates."

  A tremor ran through the ground, through the air, through Elias's chest. The space between them all seemed to hum, a deep vibration that didn't belong to the earth alone. It was within Elias now, a vast presence shifting beneath his ribs, awakening like a force slowly stretching its limbs.

  For a heartbeat, the world held still. The pendant's glow shimmered, pulsing in Elias's neck, its rhythm syncing with his breath. His heartbeat, once frantic, now settled into a steady pulse, like a drumbeat calling something far older than him into motion.

  Sentinel's gaze sharpened. His mouth barely curved, the barest hint of something like approval in his eyes. His voice was the river's current again, calm and flowing. "Now, Elias... say it."

  Elias's lips parted, the sound of his breath trembling just beneath the surface. His fingers tightened on the pendant once more. And then, with a voice that quivered, cracked with the weight of what he was about to do, he spoke, the word falling from him like a whispered command:

  "Eclipsion."

  The air shuddered, then stilled. The world seemed to inhale, drawing everything into a breath that stretched far longer than it should have. The room stilled. The lanterns flickered, their light bending as the pressure grew, pressing against the walls, against the air, pulling everything tighter.

  And then—

  Light exploded.

  As the space split before Elias, the others instinctively stepped back, their movements sharp with shock. The jagged line of blue-white light tore through the air, and the floor beneath them groaned, buckling slightly as if recoiling from the sheer force. The crack expanded, glowing molten edges gleaming ominously, and the others could feel the tension in the air, the world itself holding its breath as the fabric of the mall seemed to rip apart.

  A shape unfurled within the light, towering and majestic, its outline etched in shifting symbols of silver and sapphire, dancing in the brilliance. The Eclipse Gate rose into being, its frame glowing with energy, its surface swirling with the deep, dark night of endless skies, then flickering into pale, break-of-dawn light.

  For a heartbeat, the room held its breath.

  Then, as the gate stood solid before them, the air seemed to shift, to settle, as if the world itself exhaled in relief.

  Alice's hand rose to her chest, her breath catching. Her wide eyes locked onto the gate, her lips parting in a soft, trembling whisper, "By the stars..."

  Aiden's gaze darted from the gate to Elias, his breath coming out sharply. He dragged a hand through his hair, disbelief etched on his face. "You're kidding me. He actually—?"

  Lyric, her body trembling in shock, let out a strangled laugh, her knees nearly buckling. "Elias, you did it! You really did it!"

  Thorne staggered backward, his arms flying out as if the world were spinning. "Holy hells, that's a bloody Gate! That's, I mean... " He turned suddenly, his eyes wild, searching for some sign of reason. "That's not supposed to happen, right?!"

  Cassandra, who had remained silent and composed in the corner, shifted ever so slightly. Her arms unfolded, and for a brief instant, a flicker of surprise crossed her face, fleeting, but undeniable.

  In the center of it all, Elias stood still, rooted by the weight of what he had just done. The light of the gate washed over him, casting shadows and highlighting the sharp angles of his face. It lifted his hair, soft tendrils floating like a quiet breeze. His chest rose and fell, each breath deep, each inhale pulling him further into this moment. His eyes were wide, not with fear, but with the intense, fierce clarity of something raw and new, something he couldn't quite grasp yet.

  His knees trembled, but his feet were planted firm, like roots driving into the ground. His fingers, still gripping the pendant, trembled too, but he held on.

  The Eclipse Gate pulsed once, sending a ripple of sound through the floor. It was a heartbeat, a thrum that reverberated through the stone beneath their feet and deep inside their bones.

  Meanwhile, in the depths of the silence, Velthar's voice slipped into Sentinel's mind, soft yet filled with a knowing, ancient wisdom. I knew it. Guide them, and they will rise to what they must become.

  Sentinel's voice, deep and steady, broke through the silence like a calm river cutting through a storm. I trust them. They’ll find their way.

  He exhaled, the sound a quiet release, almost imperceptible, but carrying a weight of pride.

  "Well done," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper meant only for Elias's ears.

  Elias snapped out of his shock at the sound of Sentinel’s voice. He looked up, meeting the steady, unwavering gaze of the man standing beside him. Sentinel’s expression remained as composed as ever, yet there was a slight change in his eyes, an unspoken understanding that ran deeper than before.

  He studied him for a moment, and for the first time, he understood something about Sentinel. He had always pushed them, scolded them for not being serious enough, for not living up to their potential. It had always felt like pressure, a burden to bear. But now, standing in the glow of the Eclipse Gate, Elias realized that Sentinel’s words weren’t born from doubt or disdain. They were a challenge, an expectation that they could rise above their doubts, that they could be more.

  It was different from the mocking laughter he had heard from others, who had dismissed him for being weak, for not fitting in. The others laughed, but Sentinel? He stood by them, pushing them because he believed in them, even when they couldn’t believe in themselves.

  For the first time, Elias understood that Sentinel wasn’t just a guardian of the Eclipse Heart. He was a mentor, someone who would help them grow into who they were meant to be. And as he looked at him now, there was a quiet, unspoken connection, not just with the power of the Eclipse Heart, but with the man who had never stopped pushing them to be more.

  A faint sense of clarity washed over him. He wasn’t alone in this. And maybe, just maybe, they had a chance to win this war.