CHAPTER 55: A STORM OF CHOICES

Darius walked alongside Aiden and Kai, their footsteps echoing through the Arcanium’s quiet halls. The usual buzz of students felt far away, swallowed by the heavy air of the choices they faced. The letters on Darius’s bedside table—offers from the Star Visionary and the mysterious Storm Visionary—burned in his mind, each one a weight pulling him toward an uncertain future. Aiden and Kai carried their own offers, life-altering invitations from mages of legend, and the silence between them was thick with unspoken questions. Darius’s chest tightened, his bruises from last night’s match throbbing faintly, a reminder of how close he’d come to the death he’d written for himself as Ethan Carter, the author of Eidolon: The Sovereign’s Path.

He glanced at Aiden, whose usual grin was muted, and Kai, whose steady gaze hid a flicker of doubt. Their offers were massive—Aiden from the Light Visionary, a mage of soul and purity, and Kai from the Emissary of Gaia, a master of earth tied to nature’s ancient power. Darius’s offers felt smaller, overshadowed. The Star Visionary was his brother, Ren, trying to pull him into his orbit, and the Storm Visionary was a name he didn’t even recognize. The uncertainty gnawed at him, a storm brewing in his gut.

"What do we do now?" Darius asked, his voice low, almost lost in the echo of their steps as they turned a corner. "These offers... they’re huge, but we’ve still got school, classes, all of it. How do we even start to figure this out?"

Aiden ran a hand through his hair, his eyes distant. "It’s a lot, man. I keep thinking about the Light Visionary’s offer, and it’s like... how do I even live up to that? But we’re still students, right? We’ve got to keep up with classes, exams, all that stuff. They’ll give us training days, but we can’t just drop everything."

Kai nodded, hands shoved in his pockets. "Yeah. Balance is the key. We’ve worked too hard to get here to throw it all away for some fancy offer. The Emissary of Gaia... it’s big, but I’m not ready to ditch the Arcanium for it. Not yet."

Darius’s lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through his worry. He hadn’t thought about it like that. He’d been so caught up in the vision of Lucien—his purple-eyed power clashing with Ren, tearing the world apart—that he’d forgotten they still had classes, responsibilities, a life here. But the offers weren’t just opportunities; they were pressures, each one a step toward a future he wasn’t sure he could handle. "You’re right," he said, his voice steadier. "We can’t let this mess with what we’ve got going. But it’s hard to think straight with names like the Light Visionary and the Emissary hanging over us."

Aiden chuckled, a nervous edge to it. "Tell me about it. The Light Visionary’s all about soul magic, right? Deep, heavy stuff. I’m just a guy who likes throwing fireballs, not... whatever soul magic is. Feels like I’m in over my head."

Kai’s eyes softened, a rare warmth in them. "You’ll figure it out, Aiden. The Light Visionary doesn’t pick people for no reason. And me? The Emissary’s tied to Gaia’s will—earth, balance, all that. It’s like they see something in me I don’t even get yet. It’s... intimidating."

Darius nodded, his thoughts drifting to the Emissary’s power. He’d written them as a figure of quiet strength, their magic rooted in the earth’s ancient rhythms—forests that whispered secrets, mountains that held memories older than Eidolon itself. For Kai, it was a perfect fit, but the weight of that legacy was no joke. "The Emissary’s not just a mage," Darius said, his voice low. "They’re like... the voice of nature. You’re stepping into something huge, Kai, but you’ve always had that connection. It’s why your earth magic feels so alive."

Kai’s lips curved, a faint grin. "Thanks, man. Still feels like I’m signing up for more than I bargained for."

Their conversation stopped as they turned another corner and saw Lucien leaning against the wall. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a stiffness that made Darius’s stomach twist. Lucien’s eyes, one still faintly glowing with that unsettling purple, locked onto them, and he straightened, his movements awkward, like he was waiting for something he didn’t want to face.

"Darius," Lucien said, his voice tight, more formal than usual. "Professor Ignatius wants us. I was coming to find you."

Darius’s heart sank. Lucien didn’t just stand around waiting, not like this. Something was wrong, and the tension between them—sharpened by last night’s match and the vision of Lucien’s clash with Ren—made it worse. "Alright," Darius said, trying to sound casual but feeling the strain in his own voice. He turned to Aiden and Kai. "I’ll catch you guys later."

Aiden gave a quick wave, his calm nod a small comfort. "See you, man. Don’t let Ignatius grill you too hard."

Kai flashed a thumbs-up, his steady gaze reassuring. "Take care, Darius." They headed down the hall, probably to the dining hall to talk about anything but offers. Darius envied their ease, the way they could set it aside. For him, the weight of the letters, the vision, and Lucien’s presence was a knot he couldn’t untangle.

He followed Lucien, their footsteps heavy in the silent corridor. The air felt thick, charged with the unspoken rift between them. Lucien’s posture was off—less arrogant, more guarded, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. Darius stole glances, searching for the brother he’d known, not the figure from his vision whose power could shatter the world. The purple glow in Lucien’s eye, faint now, was a reminder of how far things had strayed from the story Ethan had written.

They reached Professor Ignatius’s office, and Lucien knocked once before pushing the door open. The familiar scent of parchment and ink hit Darius, mixed with the faint spice of Ignatius’s cologne. The room was orderly, shelves lined with tomes, but today Ignatius wasn’t in his usual robes. He wore a simple red and blue shirt, his beard neatly trimmed, giving him a younger, less formal air. Still, his presence filled the room, commanding and warm.

Ignatius looked up from his desk, a smile spreading as he saw them. "Darius, Lucien," he said, his voice rich with that familiar blend of authority and kindness. "You’ve both done well. Lucien, number one—quite the feat. But you, Darius..." His eyes lingered, thoughtful. "You’ve grown more than you realize. Be proud of that."

Darius shifted, the praise landing awkwardly. The tournament had been brutal, Lucien’s blows precise and devastating, each one a reminder of how outmatched he’d been. He’d survived, but barely, and the vision of Lucien’s future clash with Ren made his survival feel fragile. "Thanks," he mumbled, his throat tight.

Ignatius’s gaze softened. "Don’t dwell on not making the top ten, Darius. You faced Lucien, of all people. Only one could walk away from that match."

Darius nodded, the memory of the fight sharp—his body pushed to the edge, the moment he’d thought he might not make it. Lucien stood silently behind him, arms crossed, his face unreadable. The tension between them was palpable, a divide widened by the tournament and the vision haunting Darius’s mind.

Ignatius cleared his throat, gesturing to the chairs. "Sit, both of you." His voice carried a gentle command.

They sat, and Ignatius leaned back, his mismatched eyes studying them. "You’ve both been thinking about your offers, I presume," he said, his tone turning serious. He nodded at the letters Lucien set on the desk. "Lucien, you’ve got some impressive ones. The Archmage, among others. That’s no small thing."

Lucien’s brow furrowed, a rare hint of nerves breaking through. "Yes, but I’m not sure which to choose. I want to make the right call."

Ignatius’s gaze sharpened. "Be wise, Lucien. Not all visionaries are equal. Some earn their title through innovation, others through raw power. The Archmage’s offer is tempting, but if you don’t aim to become one yourself, it might not serve you. Choose someone who’ll push you beyond what you’ve already done."

Lucien nodded, his hands tightening around his letters. "Thank you, Professor. I’ll think it over."

Darius’s heart raced as Ignatius turned to him. "And you, Darius? Your offers?"

He cleared his throat, nerves fraying. "Two main ones. The Star Visionary—Ren—and... the Storm Visionary." The last name felt heavy, unfamiliar, like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

Lucien’s eyebrow shot up, curiosity flickering. "Storm Visionary? That’s new."

Darius’s stomach churned. The name didn’t fit, not with what he knew of Eidolon’s magic. Visionaries were tied to single magic types—earth, light, darkness—but a storm? It was chaos, a mix of different magic forces. Ignatius’s eyes twinkled, a knowing glint in them. "A rare offer, Darius," he said, his voice laced with amusement. He glanced at Lucien. "Step outside for a moment, would you?"

Lucien hesitated, then nodded, pacing to the door. Darius felt the weight of Ignatius’s gaze, his pulse quickening. "What’s this about?" he asked, his voice barely steady.

Ignatius leaned forward, his smile widening. "The Storm Visionary, Darius. Let me tell you their story."