Dawn broke over Arcadia not with the gentle birdsong of Argun, but with the distant rumble of early morning carts and the muted sounds of a city stirring to life. Light, still thin and grey, crept through the grime-streaked window of our small room. Across the narrow space, Kaelen was already awake, moving with the quiet, focused efficiency that seemed to define him. His cot was already made, the coarse grey blanket pulled taut and folded with sharp, military precision. He stood by the small wooden chest, methodically checking straps on worn leather greaves, his light brown hair catching the weak light, his posture radiating a disciplined energy that felt utterly at odds with the languid pace of the waking orphanage.

  I stretched subtly beneath my own thin blanket, resisting the urge to groan as muscles protested the previous day’s exertion and the weeks of intense Ki core formation. The core itself hummed steadily in my chest, a constant, low-level thrum of contained power. It felt… different this morning. Still rough, still undeniably 'Dull' tier according to Alina’s impromptu lecture, but the energy reserves felt deeper, more substantial than before. It was a palpable presence, a wellspring waiting to be tapped, smoothed, and truly mastered. My mind automatically began preparing for the day’s routine – chores, meals, limited training time. A stark contrast to the high-stakes freedom of Alina’s pocket dimension, where the only limits were my own endurance and will.

  Rise and shine, Niko! Alina’s voice, sharp and infuriatingly cheerful, echoed in my thoughts. Another glorious day of institutional drudgery awaits. Remember to look suitably downtrodden, blend in with the masses. Wouldn't want anyone suspecting you could accidentally level this charming establishment with a misplaced sneeze, eh?

  I mentally swatted her sarcastic commentary away and swung my legs over the side of the cot, the cool floorboards a shock against my bare feet. Kaelen glanced up briefly as I moved, his brown eyes registering my awakening without comment before returning to his task. We dressed in silence, the only sounds the rustle of coarse fabric and the distant city noise.

  Mistress Vivian met us near the dining hall entrance after the quick, functional breakfast. Her expression was brisk, businesslike, her gaze sweeping over both Kaelen and me. "Nikolai, Kaelen," she began, her voice crisp, "there's a section of the western boundary wall that needs attention. Roots are undermining the foundation, and a few stones have loosened near the old service alley." She handed Kaelen a small pouch containing what looked like basic masonry tools and gestured towards the courtyard. "Work together. The mortar mix is already prepared by the shed. See it done properly."

  No further instructions were needed. Kaelen gave a curt nod and headed towards the designated shed, already analyzing the task. I followed, Alina's mental voice adding unhelpfully, Aw, teamwork! Isn't this quaint? Try not to compare Ki signatures while you're lifting rocks, boys.

  The western boundary wall was indeed in rough shape. Ancient stones, worn smooth by centuries of weather, formed the base, but thick, stubborn roots snaked through the lower courses like petrified pythons. Mortar had crumbled away, leaving gaps, and several heavy capstones listed precariously. Overgrown vines choked sections of the wall, their tendrils digging into every crevice. It was hard, manual labor – clearing the tenacious vegetation, removing loose rubble, preparing the foundation for repair, and then the back-breaking work of lifting and setting heavy stones.

  We fell into an efficient, largely silent rhythm almost immediately. Our contrasting power systems, it turned out, were remarkably complementary for this kind of task. Kaelen was the architect, the foundation. His connection to Earth was absolute. With quiet concentration, hands hovering over the ground, he would levitate the massive foundation stones – stones that would take four grown men to budge – easing them into place with impossible precision. Mana, glowing a faint yellow around his hands, pulsed steadily. He didn't just lift; he felt the stone, sensing weaknesses, ensuring a perfect fit. Where mortar had crumbled, he’d gesture, and damp earth would flow like liquid clay, hardening instantly into a seamless patch that blended perfectly with the ancient stonework. He identified structural flaws with a touch, reinforcing crumbling sections from within using concentrated earth mana. His power was, controlled, utterly reliable – perfect for shaping the tangible world.

  My role became one of support, of enhancement. Where Kaelen manipulated the earth, I manipulated myself. Stones too awkward for him to easily grip, I lifted with Ki-enhanced strength, muscles burning but holding firm, carrying loads that should have buckled my ten-year-old frame. I moved across the uneven, root-choked ground with unnatural speed and perfect balance, fetching buckets of the thick, pre-mixed mortar or stacks of smaller replacement stones, my movements fluid and economical. Occasionally, before Kaelen prepared to lift a particularly large or weathered foundation block, I’d place a hand against it, sending a focused burst with Ki through the stone, testing its internal integrity. A quick nod to him was all it took.

  A non-verbal understanding quickly developed between us. Kaelen would point towards a needed tool or stone; I’d retrieve it almost before the gesture was complete. I’d tap a section of wall where the roots ran deep; he’d draw them out with a careful application of earth magic, leaving the stones undisturbed. He handled the earth and stone; I handled the raw strength, the speed, the logistical support. There was no wasted effort, no unnecessary conversation. Just the shared focus on the task. A grudging respect began to build, born not of camaraderie, but of pure, observed competence. He was powerful, focused, skilled. I, apparently, was useful. In Kaelen's pragmatic world, that seemed to be enough.

  We worked our way along the base of the wall, clearing thick, gnarled roots that had burrowed deep beneath the foundation over decades, maybe centuries. One root system was particularly stubborn, wrapped around a large, deep-set cornerstone that formed part of the wall’s original footing. "Need this one moved," Kaelen grunted, indicating the massive block. "Roots are compromising the whole section."

  He knelt, placing both hands flat against the damp earth beside the stone. Mana flared around him, a steady, powerful yellow glow. The ground trembled slightly. With a low grunt of focused effort, he began to levitate the stone, not lifting it completely, but shifting its immense weight, slowly tilting it upwards and outwards from its ancient resting place. Dirt and smaller rocks cascaded away as the stone moved, revealing the dark, damp earth beneath.

  And something else.

  As the cornerstone tilted clear, sunlight pierced the newly opened space, glinting off something embedded in the earth behind where the stone had rested. It wasn't rock or root. It looked… artificial. Deliberately placed.

  Kaelen stopped his levitation, the massive stone hovering precariously inches above the ground, his attention instantly locked onto the object. I crouched beside him, peering into the shadowed recess.

  It was a small tablet, perhaps palm-sized, fashioned not from stone, but from a dull, dark metal that felt strangely cold even without touching it. It was heavily weathered, clearly ancient, yet the symbols etched deeply into its surface remained starkly visible. It wasn't any script I recognized, certainly not the common runes. This was different. Sharp, jagged lines intersected with unsettling, fluid curves, forming a complex sigil that radiated a subtle wrongness. It felt… predatory. Ancient and vaguely, deeply threatening.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Kaelen slowly lowered the cornerstone beside the hole, never taking his eyes off the tablet. The sudden stillness in the courtyard felt heavy, the usual city sounds fading into the background. We both knew, instantly, that this wasn't just debris. This was hidden. Deliberately.

  Carefully, Kaelen reached out, not touching the tablet itself, but running his fingers lightly over the surrounding earth, then the metal surface. His brow furrowed in concentration, his Earth magic flowing subtly from his fingertips. "Old," he murmured, his voice low. "Very old. The metal… unknown alloy. Dense. The stone beneath it is ancient bedrock, far older than the wall itself." His fingers traced the etched symbol. "The symbol… not Arcadian standard." He focused harder. "There's… residual magic. Faded, but strong once. A shielding enchantment, non-elemental. Meant to conceal, protect." He analyzed the tangible properties – age, material, residual energy – with the precision of a geologist examining a rare specimen.

  While he focused on the physical, I extended my Ki sense, probing the tablet's aura. The wrongness intensified as I focused. It wasn't radiating active magic, but an echo. A cold, dark resonance clung to the symbol, a phantom trace of immense power linked to something deeply negative. Fear. Desperation. Pain. It felt like something powerful had been trapped here, or perhaps invoked, leaving behind a stain on reality itself. "There's a darkness to it," I whispered, the words feeling heavy in the still air. "A feeling… like something powerful was contained. Or maybe worshipped."

  Bingo! Alina’s voice suddenly crackled with sharp interest in my mind, startling me. Now that’s interesting! Haven't seen that particular nasty sigil in… oh, centuries at least. Definitely tied to something big, bad, and generally unpleasant. Handle with care, Niko. Or, you know, her tone shifted back to playful malice, poke it with a stick. Your choice. Much more fun that way.

  Centuries? She recognized it? Before I could press her, Kaelen spoke again, his voice grim. "It was hidden deliberately. And it feels dangerous." We locked eyes for a brief moment, a shared understanding passing between us. Whatever this was, it wasn't meant to be found.

  A sudden, sharp gasp from behind us shattered the tense silence.

  We both spun around. Runa. She stood frozen near the edge of the courtyard, perhaps having finished her own chores or seeking the relative quiet of her usual reading spot by the rose bushes. Her book lay forgotten on the ground at her feet, pages splayed open. Her usually impassive face was, for a fleeting instant, a mask of raw, naked terror. Her small hands flew to her mouth, stifling another gasp, her body rigid as stone.

  Then, I felt it – a sharp disturbance in the ambient Ki of the courtyard, a violent ripple as if the very air had been punched. It wasn't a Ki signature like my own, but a forceful displacement, the kind a sudden, potent surge of raw mana could create. My Ki sense registered the chaotic energy shift immediately. Looking at Runa, I saw a brief, chaotic shimmer of heat and shadow flicker around her hands, uncontrolled for a split second, making the air visibly distort before she choked it back with an almost physical effort. Even Kaelen flinched at the sudden visual distortion and palpable pressure change, his head snapping towards her, eyes narrowing.

  Runa's face smoothed back into its usual blank mask, but the transition was flawed. The terror lingered in her wide crimson eyes, fixed not on us, but on the dark metal tablet Kaelen held. Then, as if realizing she was being watched, her gaze snapped away violently. She snatched up her fallen book, turned sharply, and practically fled back to her seat in the corner, her posture unnaturally stiff, radiating a tension that vibrated in the air long after she disappeared inside.

  Hook, line, and sinker! Alina's mental voice was practically crowing with excitement. Our quiet little mystery girl just reacted like she saw a ghost… or maybe the thing that made the ghosts. She knows that symbol, Niko. Knows it well enough to be terrified by it. Go talk to her. Gently now… don't want to scare the potential info source away.

  "Need to check something," I murmured to Kaelen, my mind racing, connecting the dots – Runa’s immense magical potential, her visceral reaction, the dark energy clinging to the symbol. This wasn't a coincidence.

  Kaelen frowned slightly at my abrupt departure but turned his focus back to the tablet, his pragmatic mind already analyzing its physical properties again. I walked quickly across the courtyard towards the door Runa had vanished through, keeping my posture deliberately non-threatening, hands held loosely at my sides. I had to talk to her. Now.

  I found her huddled back in her usual corner near the overgrown roses, though her book remained unopened on her lap. Her breathing was shallow, her small hands clenched into white-knuckled fists in her lap. She didn’t look up as I approached, stopping a respectful few feet away.

  "Runa." I kept my voice low, steady. Using her name directly seemed the best way to get her attention. She flinched almost imperceptibly but didn't respond, her gaze fixed resolutely on the cracked flagstones beneath her feet.

  "That symbol we uncovered," I continued softly. "Back there, by the wall. I saw your reaction. It means something to you, doesn't it?" My tone was direct, but not accusatory.

  She remained silent for a long moment, her shoulders impossibly tense. Then, finally, she whispered, her voice barely audible, rough with suppressed emotion, "Leave me alone." Still, she didn't look at me. Her aura, though tightly controlled now, felt like a storm of volatile magic barely contained behind a fragile dam.

  I pressed gently, shifting my approach. "It feels dangerous, Runa. Tied to something powerful… and dark. It was hidden here, deliberately, at the Children's Home. If you recognize it, maybe you understand the danger better than we do." I let a tiny thread of my own Ki resonate outwards, not aggressively, but as a subtle signal, a quiet communication: I am different too. I sense things others don't.

  That seemed to break through her defenses, just slightly. She looked up then, her crimson eyes meeting mine, and for a split second, I saw the raw terror she was trying so hard to conceal, mixed with something else… burning hatred. "Foolishness," she hissed, her voice trembling slightly despite her effort at control. "It signifies chains and those who break them… Meddling with things like that… it gets people killed. Stay away from it. Stay away from me." Before I could respond, she scrambled to her feet, clutching her book like a shield, and hurried away, almost running, back towards the main building, leaving me alone in the quiet corner of the courtyard.

  Well, that's a crumb, I suppose, Alina observed mentally. A rather ominous crumb. 'Signifies chains and those who break them'… maybe just 'gets people killed'. Cryptic little thing, isn't she? Definitely terrified. And definitely knows more than she's letting on. Gaining her trust? Going to be like pulling teeth from a saber-toothed tiger.

  I rejoined Kaelen, who was still examining the tablet, turning it over in his hands, his brow furrowed. "Did she know it?" he asked bluntly, not looking up.

  "She reacted strongly," I confirmed, watching the doorway Runa had disappeared through. "Didn't say much beyond warning us away and that it signifies chains and those who break them. It terrifies her."

  Kaelen grunted, accepting the information pragmatically. "Her knowledge is useless if she won't share more information. We focus on the symbol itself." His approach was typical Kaelen – focus on the tangible, the solvable. Mine drifted towards the human element, the fear in Runa’s eyes, the power she hid. Two different paths converging on the same mystery.

  We both looked down at the dark metal tablet. We agreed without speaking: identifying this symbol, understanding its purpose and the danger it represented, was crucial. But the knowledge required was clearly beyond the resources of an orphanage, likely beyond even standard city archives. We needed access to deeper lore, restricted records, perhaps scholars specializing in ancient history or forbidden magic. The kind of access nobles or high-ranking officials might possess.

  So, Alina mused, stretching languidly in my mind, a dangerous symbol tied to ancient, nasty power, a traumatized magic prodigy who recognizes it on sight, and her pragmatic Earth Mage roommate. Quite the Scooby gang you're assembling! Now, where to find someone who reads creepy old death runes and doesn't mind poking sleeping monsters… This should be fun.

  Kaelen carefully wrapped the tablet in a spare piece of cloth from his satchel. Reporting it to Mistress Vivian felt… risky. Would she understand the potential danger? Or dismiss it as childish imagination, confiscating the only clue we had? Better to keep it secure, investigate quietly.

  As Kaelen tucked the wrapped tablet safely away, I glanced again towards the building, towards the corner where Runa had been. Chains… and those who break them. Gets people killed. Her fragmented warnings echoed in my mind, layering over the cold, dark resonance I’d felt from the symbol itself. This journey through Arcadia was already proving far more complicated than a simple detour.