11. Sealing Glyphs and Sweet Things

Rowan hit the ground hard enough to crack the dirt. The wind left his lungs in a single, ragged gasp, and he barely had time to brace before a shadow loomed above him again.

Torian Dawnbreaker moved like a ghost—deceptively calm, eerily precise, and relentless.

“Up.”

Rowan pushed up on shaking arms, sweat slicking his spine. The edges of his vision frayed. Something pulled at his bones—wild, ancient, hungry.

Torian didn’t ease off. Another strike, faster than a man his size had any right to be, came slicing through the morning mist. Rowan dodged—barely—and lashed out on instinct. His claws scraped against air.

His heartbeat roared in his ears. Too fast. Too loud. He could feel it—that wild edge curling through his ribs. The heat behind his eyes. His fangs ached, too long in his mouth.

It was happening again.

He wasn’t breathing air anymore—he was breathing scent: moss, sweat, magic. Prey. His eyes glinted gold.

The Wolf was clawing to the surface.

“Don’t run from it,” Torian said, circling. “Control it.”

Rowan’s nails tore into the dirt. “I can’t.”

"You’re the one in control. Not the wolf. You hear me? It doesn't own you. You own it."

He trembled. Every instinct screamed. Tear. Rend. Devour. But he clenched his fists, grounding himself in the pain.

"You’re stronger than the beast," Torian said, stepping closer. "It serves you. You do not serve it."

His breathing slowed. The heat didn’t vanish—but it curled inward, more cloak than cage now.

His claws receded. His eyes dimmed.

He dropped to one knee, gasping.

Torian offered a hand.

“Good,” he said. “Now let’s do it again.”

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The guild hall canteen buzzed with lamplight and clattering plates. It smelled like fresh bread, meat stew, and a hundred kinds of exhaustion.

Rowan, hair damp from a shower after his long day at work, spotted Kael slouched at a corner table, half a roll stuffed in his mouth.

“How’d she do?” Rowan asked, his voice hoarse as he dropped onto the bench across from him.

Kael didn’t look up. “She’s shit.”

Rowan exhaled, amused. “But not as shitty as you thought.”

“Tch.”

That counted as a win.

Rowan scanned the hall. A small figure was slumped over a table near the wall, head pillowed on her arms. Crow.

"Is she... asleep?"

"She’s a damn idiot," Kael muttered, already standing. He stalked off—to the food line, returning with two trays.

Rowan blinked. One was piled with what Crow had eaten the night before.

The girl in question didn’t stir until Kael dropped the tray in front of her with a clatter.

"You're drooling," Kael said.

"I'm dreaming about punching you," she mumbled, not lifting her head.

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“Eat, Idiot,” Kael mumbled as he chewed on his food.

Crow blinked, narrowing her eyes at the food in front of her, “Did I die? Why did you get me food?”

“Not yet,” Kael said. “Eat.”

Rowan swore he heard her mutter a curse under her breath, blinking blearily at the tray. Her eyes locked on the little berry tart tucked in the corner.

She reached—Kael smacked her hand away, growling

“Eat the real food first, you damn gremlin.”

Rowan flinched. Her glare was nuclear, even if it wasn’t aimed at him. When her eyes snapped to him, his spine went stiff.

“Whatever,” She took a begrudging bite of bread, mumbling to herself that she would strangle him one day.

“You would have to land a hit to strangle me.” Kael’s smirk made Rowan’s blood start to boil. Rowan’s eye twitched. Did he have to be such a jerk?

Between bites of stew, she slid her codex onto the table.

“Hey. Has your codex ever… glitched? Kitty Cat’s and mine freaked out earlier. Don’t know what changed.”

Rowan stilled. His eyes dropped to the Codex in front of him.

Should he mention what happened that morning? The way her name had glitched across his Codex, etched in light.

“Not yet.” He thought to himself. "She had enough to worry about."

“She’s awake!” Myra dropped onto the bench with a grin. “I kept checking on you all day. You didn’t move.”

Garran followed, tray in hand. “Did you sleep here?”

Crow shrugged. "Maybe. Time’s a lie."

Rowan choked on his water, not expecting that from her.

Kael just squinted at Myra. "How long has she been here?"

Myra hesitated.

"Myra."

"Since lunch," she admitted.

That meant hours.

Kael made a disgusted noise. “You absolute dumbass.”

"It was a comfortable table!"

"You’re an idiot."

Crow scoffed. “That’s rich coming from someone who broke two training swords while they bullied me this morning.”

“They weren’t made right.”

“They weren’t made for tantrums.”

“Shut it, Featherbrain.”

Rowan rubbed his temples. They were ridiculous.

"My Codex glitched this morning too," he finally said.

That got her attention.

"Yeah?" she said, already reaching for her tart again. Kael swatted her hand away without looking up from his food. She scowled at him like he’d just insulted her ancestors.

Rowan nodded. "Didn’t just freeze. It glitched. Badly."

“Interesting.” She took a bite of stew to appease the tyrant.

Rowan leaned forward, serious now. "What happened with your Codexes? Exactly."

Crow watched Kael like a hawk, her eyes flicking between him and her tart.

"They interacted. Some kind of sealing glyph broke. Maybe a binding one. But, same for us, they glitched hard."

She didn’t even fully reach her hand to the sweets before Rowan watched Kael’s hand shoot out, smacking her with the back of his spoon.

“Rude,” she rubbed the back of her hand.

“You’re skipping the real food.”

“I’m prioritizing.”

Myra, eyebrows raised, glanced between them. "Okay, but... shouldn’t we be a little more freaked out about mysterious glyph failures in a magical device tied to our literal souls?"

“Nerd,” Kael turned away from Crow, glaring at Rowan. “You know anything about that glitch?”

Crow made another attempt at the tart. Kael tried to slap her hand again, but she caught his wrist this time—too fast, too tight.

He hissed through his teeth. “The hell—?”

She took a victorious bite of the tart, not breaking eye contact.

His wrist was already red.

“You just earned yourself extra drills tomorrow.”

She held up the half-eaten tart in salute. "Still worth it."

Rowan pushed his dinner away with a sigh. "Hand them over. Both of you."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "You better not screw it up, nerd."

They reluctantly handed over their Codex. Rowan’s fingers hovered over them, tension creeping back into his shoulders.

The moment he touched them, both Codex shivered.

Crow’s name flashed again—only this time, Kael’s glitched too.

Myra leaned forward, brow furrowed, “Codexes aren’t supposed to react like that. That’s, like… Church-level freaky.”

A second line of glowing text scrolled across the surface of both devices. Not Common. Not Latin. Something older.

Rowan’s pulse spiked.

Myra leaned closer. “What’s it say?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he couldn’t read it.

But something in his bones remembered it.

His own Codex buzzed violently in his pocket.

He pulled it free.

All three screens went black.