Echoes of Oblivion CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: The First Training

Back at the academy, they hid their finds in the abandoned scriptorium. The sword, the book, the ring—all too dangerous to carry openly.

Seris examined Oblivion's Edge while Varyan read the family chronicle.

The book was dense. Handwritten in elegant script, it told the story of the Roverc fragnt-bearers—generation after generation of Order-aligned warriors who had fought Chaos creatures and Harvesters in secret.

But the entries grew shorter over ti. More desperate. The last entry, from Varyan's great-grandmother, read:

*"The Harvesters know our bloodline carries the fragnt. They are coming. I have hidden the sword. I have hidden the keys. May my descendants be stronger than I."*

She had died on an expedition into the Chaos Wastes—officially a hero's death fighting demons. But the chronicle suggested otherwise.

*"I go to draw them away from the family. If I do not return, know that I loved you. Know that I died fighting."*

Varyan closed the book.

"She sacrificed herself," he said quietly. "To protect us."

Seris looked up from the sword. "That's what families do. Or what they're supposed to do."

"You wouldn't know. Orphan, rember?"

"Ouch."

"Sorry. That ca out wrong."

"It ca out true." Seris shrugged. "I don't rember my parents. The orphanage wasn't cruel, but it wasn't kind either. I was alone until I woke the fragnt. Then I was alone and hunted."

"You're not alone now."

Seris stared at him. Her mismatched eyes were unreadable. "Neither are you."

[「ECHO」: Bond strength increased. Alliance stability: 78%.]

They spent the afternoon training. Seris taught Varyan how to channel his Order fragnt into the sword. The blade glowed faintly when he focused.

"Try the Order Slash," she said.

Varyan swung at a broken chair. A crescent of white light shot from the blade and cut the chair in half.

[Ability used: Order Slash. Damage: moderate. Energy cost: 10% of fragnt reserve. Reserve currently at 34%.]

"That was..." Varyan stared at the smoking remains of the chair.

"Aweso," Seris finished. "It was aweso. Admit it."

"Fine. Aweso."

She grinned. It was the first genuine smile he had seen from her.

Then the scriptorium door creaked.

Both spun.

A boy stood in the doorway. Thin, mousy brown hair, wide eyes. He couldn't have been older than twelve. He was trembling.

"I—I saw the light," he stamred. "From the window. Are you... are you fragnt-bearers too?"

[Order fragnt detected: 10 feet. Order Fragnt 11. Bearer: Tobin Moss. Status: frightened.]

Varyan lowered his sword. "Who are you?"

"Tobin. Tobin Moss. House Moss—it's a minor house, nobody important." He swallowed hard. "I woke up three weeks ago. I've been hiding. But the Harvesters—I think they know. I saw a man watching . He had frost on his hands."

Varyan and Seris exchanged glances.

"The Harvesters are already looking for new bearers," Seris said. "Venn is dead, but the Lord Harvest probably has others."

"We can't leave him alone," Varyan said.

"I know."

Tobin looked between them, terrified. "You'll help ?"

Varyan sighed. "We'll try. But you do what we say, when we say it. No argunts."

"Okay. Okay, yes. Thank you."

[New ally: Tobin Moss – Order Fragnt 11. Level: 2. Abilities: unknown.]

Three fragnt-bearers now. Two Order, one Chaos.

The Lord Harvest would notice.