Night draped its velvet cloak over the vast expanse of Aerion.

Within the hallowed, echoing halls of the Estath Cathedral, flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows upon the solemn stone faces of saints and angels lining the nave.

While the city outside began to quiet, activity stirred within the cathedral's deeper chambers. The silver hair of Archbishop Ralph, the venerable head of the Eastern Aerion diocese, gleamed in the lamplight. He was hunched over a stack of ancient documents in his quiet study, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The anomaly detected during Henry's ascension ritual weighed heavily on his mind.

A subtle shift in the cathedral's ambient aether alerted him to an arrival. Not the usual acolytes or priests, but something different. More focused, more intense. With a soft sigh, the aged prelate pushed himself away from the time-worn script detailing obscure angelic lineages and stepped out from his study into the grand, echoing transept to greet his unexpected, late-night visitors.

Two figures awaited him, standing silently amidst the towering pillars, their dark cloaks making them seem like extensions of the shadows themselves. One was a man with a severe, close-cropped haircut and sharp, unwavering eyes that seemed to miss nothing - Cole, an operative whose reputation preceded him. The other was taller, leaner, with long black hair bound neatly at the nape of his neck, his face holding a quiet, watchful intelligence - Dash. Both radiated the tightly controlled aura of high-level investigators, likely from the Central Bureau.

"We received your urgent summons via secured channel, Archbishop," Cole stated without preamble. His clipped, precise words cut through the cathedral's reverent silence like a shard of ice. He kept his eyes on the Archbishop, his features settling into a mask of analytical detachment. "Your report mentioned a significant irregularity during today's ascension ceremony. A most peculiar occurrence, you termed it."

"Indeed," Archbishop Ralph replied slowly, his tone carrying the weight of his concern. He gestured towards his study. "Please, come in. What I sensed this is the first instance of such a phenomenon I have personally encountered in my sixty years of service."

He led them into the study, the scent of old parchment and beeswax heavy in the air. "When the soldier, Henry Strike, completed the Rank 3 ritual, I performed the standard post-ascension assessment. The aether within him it was extraordinarily abundant. Potent, vibrant, yes, as expected with a successful ascension, but the sheer volume"

He shook his head, still perplexed. "It utterly surpassed the expected capacity of even a gifted soldier newly promoted to Rank 3. By a significant margin."

"We have absolute faith in your renowned sensitivity to aether currents, Your Eminence," Dash added, his voice smoother than Cole's, measured and professional. "It is the very reason Central Command dispatched us with such haste upon receiving your flagged report." He paused, letting the implication hang. "Especially given the current climate. For nearly three months now, across all of Zephyros, the number of documented anomalous manifestations has been steadily increasing. Their nature varies wildly, but alarmingly, our analysts estimate over seventy percent have exhibited demonstrably negative or dangerous inclinations."

Archbishop Ralph's brow furrowed deeper, a shadow of worry crossing his kindly features. He had heard whispers, of course, fragmented reports filtering through Church channels, but the direct confirmation from Bureau investigators confirmed the severity of the situation. "The situation is truly that dire?" he asked quietly. "I require more specific details, if you are at liberty to share. The nature of these manifestations?"

"Within the parameters of operational security, Your Eminence. In the past three standard months, the Bureau has logged eighty-two distinct, confirmed cases of anomalous power emergence outside established norms or bloodlines." Dash consulted a small data slate he produced from within his cloak. "The vast majority involve ordinary citizens or low-ranking soldiers suddenly developing extraordinary abilities they cannot comprehend or control."

He looked up, the professional levity gone from his face. "Several patterns have emerged. We've seen significant increases in raw physical strength, unfortunately often accompanied by uncontrollable aggression, leading to numerous incidents of violent assault. More disturbingly, there are documented cases where afflicted individuals have begun physical transformations. Sprouting coarse fur, bone structure altering gradual shifts towards bestial humanoid forms."

Dash leaned forward slightly, his tone lowering. "Others manifest mental anomalies. Some begin hearing nonsensical whispers, rapidly descending into paranoia and madness, often ending in suicide. Of particular concern were two recent cases involving low-ranking garrison soldiers who inexplicably gained potent psychic abilities. One," his jaw tightened, "triggered a large-scale telekinetic event during a failed embezzlement attempt, resulting in significant collateral damage before his own head violently imploded from power overload when cornered."

He took a breath. "The other psychic managed to subtly manipulate a significant portion of a town's populace into near-rebellion before being identified and neutralized by one of our specialized containment teams. The final count is sobering: sixty of the eighty-two confirmed cases have resulted in casualties, significant property damage, or severe societal disruption. The common thread," Dash concluded, "is almost always a sudden surge in power - physical, arcane, or psychic - coupled with a complete lack of training or innate capacity to control it, invariably leading to catastrophic consequences."

"And the remaining twenty-two cases?" Archbishop Ralph inquired, searching for a glimmer of hope amidst the appalling statistics. "Have they yielded positive outcomes?"

That faint hope was extinguished by Cole, who had been silently observing and now shook his head curtly. "Not precisely 'positive,' Your Eminence. Merely not yet negative. Eighteen of those cases are currently classified as neutral. The individuals involved experienced unusual phenomena - minor elemental affinities, enhanced senses, things of that nature - but had the presence of mind to report them promptly to local authorities or the Church. This allowed for immediate monitoring, counseling, and support measures to be implemented, mitigating potential harm."

He consulted his own notes. "Only four cases, out of the eighty-two, have thus far presented genuinely beneficial results without dangerous side effects. The first involves a civilian baker who occasionally experiences brief, localized precognitive flashes - seeing accidents moments before they occur. He has used this to avert numerous potential disasters in his district, saving quite a few lives."

Cole continued in a flat, factual tone. "The second is an individual with an accelerated healing factor, roughly equivalent to a sustained Rank 2 restoration spell. They seem content using this advantage to win local martial arts tournaments for prize money and have exhibited no psychological instability." He paused. "The third concerns a garrison soldier, similar Rank to your Subject Henry, who spontaneously completed the Rank 3 ascension within his barracks, bypassing the formal ritual entirely. Fortunately, this event was witnessed by multiple squad mates, allowing us to rule out clandestine ritualistic practices. His power levels remain stable, within expected Rank 3 parameters."

Finally, Cole lifted his head, locking his attention on the Archbishop. "The last positive case is perhaps the most unique, and currently under intense, covert surveillance. A Rank 2 operative assigned to a high-risk border patrol. During an encounter where death seemed certain, faced with overwhelming odds, he unexpectedly unleashed a defensive spell measured at Rank 4 intensity. A single, fleeting burst lasting perhaps ten seconds, which utterly obliterated the enemy force. His squad reported the incident immediately. Extensive investigation has yielded no discernible explanation - no hidden artifacts, no external power source detected. He cannot replicate the feat voluntarily. We merely confirmed his current baseline remains Rank 2, yet he somehow possesses the latent capacity for a brief, explosive surge two Ranks above his own under extreme duress."

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Archbishop Ralph chuckled softly then, a rare sound of dry amusement in the tense study. "Haha, It seems Tehra never ceases to offer, unexpected curiosities, gentlemen."

"As you say, Your Eminence," Cole replied, the professional severity returning to his voice.. "Which brings us back to Soldier Henry Strike. We had already flagged his file due to the military physicians' reports regarding his unusually rapid physical recovery after the Loknezt incident. Now, your confirmation of this significant aether anomaly following his ascension, it elevates his case considerably. This situation necessitates particularly close scrutiny."

Facing the intense scrutiny of Cole and Dash, the stern lines of Archbishop Ralph's posture seemed to soften. His words were gentle, yet imbued with profound sincerity and quiet authority.

"Gentlemen, I understand the necessity of your investigation. These are dangerous times, and caution is paramount. That said," he leaned forward slightly, "I was compelled to speak on this young man's behalf. I have known Henry for several years. He is a devout and thoughtful young man. While not outwardly pious, his consistency is clear, he attends services, studies in our library, and volunteers for our charitable works. I can speak to his character."

The Archbishop softened, a genuine warmth in his bearing as he spoke of the young man. "I confess, I have developed a deep fondness for the young man, and for his companion, Sophia. While he currently exhibits these unusual traits, and while I understand you will monitor him, examine him, perhaps even interrogate him formally I wish to personally vouch for his character. I trust his integrity. My hope, my formal request, is that all proceedings regarding him be conducted with appropriate caution and restraint."

Dash inclined his head respectfully. "We always hold your wisdom and insight in the highest regard, Your Eminence. With your personal vouchsafing, we will certainly endeavor to proceed with a delicate approach."

He paused, and the look he gave Ralph was a clear, unspoken warning. "You understand, this, of course, also places a measure of responsibility upon yourself. We trust you will also maintain a watchful eye and ensure the young man does not deviate onto an unacceptable path. Any negative incidents originating from this anomaly could significantly impact your own esteemed reputation within the Church and with the Council."

Archbishop Ralph stood a little taller, the gentle demeanor hardening slightly, he looked at them without flinching, his voice taking on the quiet, unshakable authority of his station. "Like yourselves, gentlemen, I possess a profound confidence in my ability to discern character. And more importantly," a subtle but palpable surge of refined, potent aether flared briefly from him, the power of a Rank 5 powerhouse nearing the precipice of Rank 6, pressing gently but firmly against the senses of the two investigators, "that confidence stems from the strength vested in the leading prelate of Eastern Aerion. Should any untoward developments arise regarding Henry Strike, believe me," A chilling, steel-like authority underscored his soft-spoken words, "I believe myself fully capable of safeguarding the situation and resolving the matter personally."

Cole and Dash both felt the invisible pressure, the implicit warning beneath the Archbishop's calm words. Cole and Dash bowed their heads in unison, lower this time, a clear gesture of deference. "We have absolute faith in your power and judgment, Your Eminence," Dash replied smoothly, all trace of implied warning gone from his tone.

After a few moments of weighty silence, confirming their understanding, the two investigators offered final, formal respects and departed, melting back into the cathedral's shadows, leaving a profound stillness in their wake. Archbishop Ralph watched them go, then slowly turned back towards the main altar.

He channeled a touch of aether into the large lumen-stones set high in the walls, increasing their soft glow, pushing back the encroaching darkness. As he moved deeper into the sacred space, towards the lingering scent of incense and prayer, the prelate murmured, the soft words lost like a whisper in the vast stone vault, as if speaking to the silent figures of the Angels themselves.

"Henry, Sophia, I have done what little I can to shield you for now. Strive to remain steadfast on your path. Do not lose your way." A deep sigh escaped him. "For if events truly take a darker turn I fear even my influence may prove insufficient to protect you from the storm to come."

The following days unfolded with an unassuming tranquility for Henry, a return to the familiar rhythm of garrison life. Outwardly, nothing had changed. Mornings were dedicated to rigorous training and routine patrols with the newly expanded Squad 18 under Jacobs's now Rank 4 command.

Afternoons often found him seeking refuge within the quiet, ordered sanctuary of the Estath Cathedral library, immersing himself in ancient histories or tactical manuals, trying to push the unsettling conversation with Archbishop Ralph, and the subsequent official summons for interrogation scheduled for the following week, to the back of his mind.

When charitable tasks arose - distributing food bundles, assisting with minor repairs at the church orphanage - he offered his time readily alongside Envoy Ralph, finding a measure of peace in simple, tangible work. Evenings were spent with Sophia, sharing quiet meals, walking familiar paths, or sometimes joining the easy camaraderie and rough banter of his squad mates, old and new, at the Dunlyre. Life continued, seemingly unchanged.

Yet, beneath the surface, everything was different. The knowledge imparted by Will, the weight of joining the secret Sanctuary Enclave, the constant, low-level awareness of the impending investigation it created a hidden tension, a secret life running parallel to his mundane duties.

And then there was the Gift.

Late one night, alone in the quiet darkness of the barracks long after the others slept, Henry finally allowed himself to fully explore the consequence of his decision, the tangible result of his acceptance by the Lifestream within the Enclave's nexus. He had registered the subtle change immediately upon returning to his body, but hadn't dared investigate further until now.

Closing his eyes, focusing inward, he touched the skin over his left breast, where the hidden crimson skull tattoo resided, the mark seemingly unchanged. But now, he also sensed a new mark, not physical ink, but an intricate pattern of energy imprinted directly onto his spirit, resonating faintly from his right shoulder - the emerald tree of the Sanctuary.

He took a deep breath and deliberately drew upon the Gift Will had spoken of, the power bestowed by the pure Lifestream fragment that had merged with his spirit. A soothing warmth bloomed in his chest and spread rapidly through him. The warmth was a revitalizing current of aether, but cleaner and more ancient than his own. It integrated seamlessly, not augmenting his raw power directly, but refining it. Harmonizing it.

And then he felt it - the area over his left breast, near his heart, pulsed with a new, quiet energy. It was almost alive.

He focused his Mystic Sense inward and perceived it clearly: a new symbol seemed to have overlaid the hidden crimson skull. It resembled the Sanctuary's emerald tree emblem, but now a faint, six-pointed star shimmered subtly beneath its roots, and encircling the entire symbol was a perfect, unbroken ring, divided into twelve equal, glowing arcs. He didn't know its name or its full function, but he instinctively thought of it as the Sanctuary Seal.

As he focused on the Seal, he perceived it beginning to function. A silent reservoir of pure aether began to form around it, a nascent core of magical energy slowly but surely collecting every unused droplet, every stray wisp of his own body's ambient aether, storing it, refining it. The experience was like gaining a secondary heart, one that beat in tandem with the flow of magic itself, constantly, passively accumulating power.

But the most immediate, astonishing effect was on his Mystic Sense. Previously, actively expanding the Sense beyond its ten-meter passive radius had been a conscious effort, a noticeable drain on his reserves.

Now, fueled or perhaps regulated by the Sanctuary Seal, the sensation became effortless. Smoothly, without strain, he pushed his awareness outwards - twenty meters, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty… seventy meters! The detailed, intuitive map simply expanded, the clarity unwavering, the drain on his primary reserves almost negligible. It was as if the Seal had been specifically designed to harmonize with and unshackle his unique perception.

He held the seventy-meter scan, marveling at the clarity, the sheer volume of information pouring into his mind - the sleeping soldiers in adjacent barracks, the lone guard pacing the outer perimeter wall, the rustle of leaves in the distant trees, even the faint heat signature of night creatures moving in the alleys outside the garrison. It was intoxicating.

And then, he sensed it again. Faint, distant, but undeniable. A single, cloaked figure lurking in the shadows several streets away, deliberately positioned just outside his previously known maximum sensory range. An observer. Likely someone from Investigation Bureau, assigned after Archbishop Ralph's report. Still watching, Henry thought darkly.

But now perhaps the game has changed slightly. He let the Sense retract, the Seal continuing its quiet work within him. He had new power, new allies and a growing understanding of the forces at play.

The investigation was coming, Zalogr was still a threat, and the Necromancer mission loomed. But Henry was no longer quite so terrifyingly small.

He now carried a secret, a gift from the Lifestream itself, and the weight of an ancient duty. The path ahead remained fraught with peril, but for the first time, he felt truly equipped to walk it.

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