The mind is a fortress—or a prison of one's own making. To rule it is to rewrite reality.
A week after returning from Elyrris, Kael is haunted by dreams. The voice calling to him grows louder with each passing night, its tone neither hostile nor kind—but absolute. Commanding.
It speaks of a place buried beneath the Academy itself: the Mindthorn Tomb, sealed away during the First Flame Pact when the Bone Crown was shattered and hidden across realms.
Most believed the Mindthorn shard—capable of shaping thought itself—was lost to time.
But Kael knows now: it was never lost.
It was hidden in plain sight—beneath the oldest tower of the Academy, inside the Sanctum of Lost Lessons—a tower where students report time itself bends, thoughts loop, and memories become distorted.
Kael and Lia descend into the sanctum, leaving behind the known world.
Built from blue-veined blackstone, the Sanctum is a spiraling labyrinth of lectures never taught and rooms that remember their own destruction.
Walls flicker between states of ruin and perfection.
Ghosts of students who never existed drift, replaying debates on ethics and power, laughter echoing from timelines that never were.
Kael feels his thoughts warping—names forgotten, truths unraveling.
"This place," Lia murmurs, "was built to hold not a weapon—but a concept."
At its center lies the Mindthorn Mirror, a massive vertical disc of obsidian laced with thought-silver. As Kael approaches, the mirror ripples—not reflecting him, but who he would become if he claimed the Mindthorn.
Seven versions of himself stare back.
Each wears a different face.
Each wears the Crown.
To claim the Mindthorn, Kael must face the Trial of Dominion—a trial not of flame or sword, but of thought.
A mental arena forms, drawing Lia into a separate illusion.
Kael is forced into confrontation with the First Heir of Mindthorn: Vaeltheon, a tyrant from the Age of Thorns who tried to rewrite every mind in his kingdom to erase grief itself.
Vaeltheon offers Kael a choice:
"You seek power to protect. But what is protection without control? If your friends forget pain… they never fear. They never fall. Would that not be mercy?"
Kael battles Vaeltheon within a mindscape that shifts at the speed of will—reality cracking with every lie told and truth uncovered.
He nearly falters—tempted by a moment of peace where Lia never suffers, where the gods never fell.
But he rejects the illusion.
"Pain is the price of memory. And I won't steal it to save myself."
Kael wins.
The illusion shatters. Vaeltheon dissipates, whispering:
"Then you shall remember… everything."
The Mindthorn Mirror cracks—and from it, Kael draws the third shard of the Bone Crown.
This shard does not burn like flame or echo like stone. It hums inside his skull, wrapping his thoughts in a silver sheen.
New abilities awaken:
Kael can now anchor thoughts into reality—making illusions real, rewriting memories (only with permission… for now).
He can see the true names of those he meets—their innermost identities, even ones forgotten to themselves.
But the power comes at a cost: his own thoughts are now visible to those who can read the thorn-script, ancient mindmages lost to history.
And they are watching.
Elsewhere, in the Hollow Expanse of No'vaari, a sealed order awakens: the Mind-Eaters, ancient beings who once consumed thoughts to power their gods.
They feel the Mindthorn's activation—and turn their gaze toward Kael.
"A mortal dares wear three shards," whispers the High-Mind of the Hollow."Time to test his will."
Back at the Academy, word spreads too quickly.
The Obsidian Convocation demands Kael surrender the shard.
House Vaeldra sends an envoy—Kael's estranged cousin, Altheir, who offers allegiance… or death.
Chancellor Ygreth begins preparations to seal Kael's mind permanently.
And Lia? She's terrified.
She's seen what the Mindthorn did to Vaeltheon. And now the same silver flame glows faintly behind Kael's eyes.
"Don't become what you're fighting," she whispers.
"Then help me remember who I am," Kael replies.