Seven days had passed since the ground of Sinclair University split open and a shadow resembling my late father tried to drag my soul into the darkness. The burn on my left wrist no longer felt hot, but the scar now formed a silver mark that shimmered every time I thought about the flow of Aetherium energy. I sat behind a massive mahogany desk at the House of Ravenscroft headquarters, staring at the glass wall that revealed the busyness of a city that had returned to normal—a fragile normality that could only survive because of my sacrifice in the Carpathian Mountains.
"Sir, your coffee. No sugar, just as you've been asking for lately," Elara placed the porcelain cup down with a soft clink.
"Thank you, Elara. Any reports from the construction team at the Research Tower?" I asked without
