The day had finally come.

Gray light filtered through the common room windows as Ashen Dawn gathered their gear. Backpacks leaned against the couch. Weapons cases were stacked by the door. Derek was doing a mental checklist for the fifth time, his lips moving silently as he counted and recounted. Sera was scrolling through her phone, but her eyes kept drifting to the window, watching the clouds shift. Mason stood by the door, arms crossed, already wearing his travelling boots.

Cora was pacing. Again.

"Will you stop that?" Sera said without looking up.

"I’m not pacing."

"You’re pacing."

"I’m thinking."

"You’re pacing while thinking."

Cora stopped. Glared. Then started pacing again.

Lucian sat in the corner, his twin blades across his lap, his eyes half-closed. He wasn’t meditating—just waiting. The system hummed softly, content to let him be.

The door opened.

Alistair walked in, a tablet in one hand, a duffel bag in the other. He looked tired—more than usual—but there was something else in his eyes. Something almost like excitement.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning," they echoed.

Alistair set down his bag and tapped the tablet. A holographic map flickered to life, showing a mountain range none of them recognized—peaks with no names, valleys with no roads, forests that seemed to swallow the light.

"The Celestial Springs are located here," Alistair said, pointing to a cluster of blue markers. "Neutral territory. Guarded by a reclusive order of monks who don’t answer to the Ashen Guard, the Council, or anyone else. They’ve granted us access for two weeks. Don’t make them regret it."

Cora raised an eyebrow. "Monks?"

"Warrior monks. They’ve been protecting the Springs for centuries. They’re not hostile, but they’re not friendly either. Keep to yourselves, don’t wander into restricted areas, and for the love of the Veil, don’t start any fights."

Derek swallowed. "What happens if we do?"

Alistair looked at him. "You don’t want to know."

---

The van left at eight.

They drove through the city, past suburbs, past farmlands, past the last signs of civilization. The road narrowed, then narrowed again, until it was little more than a dirt path winding through trees that seemed older than time.

Cora pressed her face to the window. "Where are we?"

"Nowhere," Alistair said. "That’s the point."

The forest closed around them. Shadows stretched long between the trunks. The light turned green and gold, filtered through leaves that hadn’t fallen in centuries.

Sera lowered her phone. "There’s no signal."

"There won’t be," Alistair said. "The wards block everything. No calls. No messages. No outside contact for two weeks."

"And if something happens at Ashford?"

"Then the monks will inform us. But nothing will happen. The Springs are protected."

Mason leaned back in his seat. "How far?"

"Another hour. Then we walk."

Derek groaned. "Walk?"

"The wards prevent vehicles from getting too close. Standard security."

Dr. Blackwood materialized beside Derek, his translucent face amused. "You could use the exercise."

"I get plenty of exercise."

"You get plenty of running away. It’s not the same."

Derek glared. Dr. Blackwood smiled.

---

The van stopped at a clearing.

Before them, a stone path led into the mountains, lined with ancient statues worn smooth by rain and wind. The faces were unreadable—too eroded to identify—but their postures spoke of vigilance. Guardians.

Alistair stepped out first. "We go on foot from here. Stay together. Stay quiet."

They grabbed their gear and followed.

The path wound upward, through forests that whispered with every step. The air grew cooler, thinner, cleaner. Lucian felt something shift in his chest—not the system, something deeper. The energy here was different. Older.

Cora noticed it too. "Do you feel that?"

"Hard not to," Mason said.

Sera sniffed the air. "It’s like... pressure. But not bad pressure."

"It’s spiritual energy," Alistair said. "The Springs are a convergence point. The energy pools here, saturates the ground, the water, the air. That’s why the monks guard it. That’s why we’re here."

They walked in silence for another hour.

The path opened into a valley.

Lucian stopped.

Before them, a series of hot pools cascaded down the mountainside, steam rising from their surfaces like breath on a cold morning. Waterfalls fed them from above, the water shimmering with faint light—not reflected, but emitted. The pools glowed, soft and blue, like liquid sky.

The air hummed.

"This is it," Alistair said. "The Celestial Springs."

Cora stepped forward, her boots barely touching the grass. "It’s beautiful."

"Wait until you feel it." Mason knelt beside one of the pools and dipped his fingers in the water. His gauntlets didn’t hiss. The heat didn’t burn. He looked at his hand, then at the others. "It’s not hot. It’s... warm. Like the morning sun."

Sera set down her bag. "How does it work?"

"The energy in the water bonds with your aura," Alistair said. "It enhances natural abilities, accelerates healing, and—if you’re receptive—can unlock latent potential." He looked at each of them. "That’s why we’re here. Two weeks. Train, rest, grow. Use the time wisely."

Derek sat down on a rock, his staff across his lap. Dr. Blackwood materialized beside him, his face uncharacteristically serene.

"This place," the ghost said, "is older than me."

"Everything is older than you."

"Not everything. But this... this is something special."

Derek looked at the glowing pools, at the waterfalls, at the sky that seemed closer here, more present. "Yeah," he said. "I know."

Lucian walked to the edge of the highest pool and sat down on the grass. The energy pressed against his skin, gentle but insistent. His system hummed, louder than usual, like it was waking up after a long sleep.

New environment detected. Spiritual energy saturation: high. Recommend adaptation.

He closed his eyes and let the warmth soak in.

Behind him, the team spread out—Cora already stripping off her boots, Derek testing the water with his staff, Mason finding a flat rock to meditate on, Sera taking photos even though there was no signal.

Alistair watched them from the edge of the valley, arms crossed, a rare smile on his face.

Two weeks, he thought. Two weeks of peace.