Solin stepped out of Arcon's office, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. The air in the corridor felt cooler, the stillness of the Sanctum pressing in. Lirien stood nearby, waiting, her arms crossed as she studied his expression. He barely gave her a glance before starting down the hall.

"I've got to see someone," he muttered.

She fell into step beside him. "Who?"

"Dorian."

Lirien stopped in her tracks. "Dorian Thorne? The only Non-Weaver to graduate the Academy in the last five years?"

He smirked. "The very one."

Lirien hesitated for half a second before catching up, curiosity flashing in her gaze. "Why?"

Solin didn't answer. The two walked in silence through the winding halls of the Sanctum, descending deeper beneath the structure. The walls seemed to hum the closer they got to their destination. Finally, they reached a set of immense double doors, crafted from a material that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

The Chamber of Refinement.

A relic of ancient times, the chamber had been created by generations of Weavers pouring their energy into its foundation, saturating the very air with condensed power. Many battles had been fought here, many masters had shaped their craft within these walls. Even standing outside, Solin could feel the weight of history pressing against his skin.

With a push, the doors parted. A thick rush of energy poured out, wrapping around them like a living thing. Inside, the chamber stretched vast and open, its arena-like floor marked by centuries of combat. At the very center, a lone figure sat motionless, his form bathed in the eerie glow of the chamber's latent energy.

Dorian Thorne.

The moment Solin laid eyes on him, he realized something had changed.

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Dorian's body was no longer entirely solid. The man's outline flickered, his entire form shifting as if he were made of flowing, moving lines. His presence rippled through the space, an extension of the Weave itself. Solin had seen many things in his years—had fought against the best the world had to offer—but this was something different.

Lirien inhaled sharply beside him. "What… is that?"

Solin took a slow step forward. "Enlightenment."

Lirien glanced at him. "I've heard of it, but…"

"You don't see it often," Solin murmured. "It's what happens when someone is so attuned to the Weave that their body begins to reflect it. Like existing between two states—part physical, part something else."

Dorian did not react to their presence. He remained seated, eyes closed, his breath steady. Solin studied him for a moment longer before speaking.

"Dorian."

The word barely left his lips before the entire atmosphere shifted.

Dorian's eyes snapped open. The moment they did, the air around him shuddered, lines of energy fracturing outward from where he sat. His gaze locked onto Solin's, sharp and unyielding. For a brief moment, it felt as if the very chamber itself was holding its breath.

Then Dorian exhaled, and the energy around him stilled. His form became solid once more, though a lingering afterimage of shifting lines remained.

"Solin." His voice was steady, calm. "You shouldn't be here."

Solin tilted his head slightly. "You've been avoiding people. Figured I'd check in."

Dorian didn't respond right away. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. Solin could see it—the weight of something unresolved, something raw beneath the surface.

Lirien shifted beside him. She had never met Dorian before, but even she could tell this was no ordinary man. The stories didn't do him justice.

Solin took another step forward, crossing the boundary of Dorian's space. "I saw Drevin."

Dorian's eyes darkened.

The chamber seemed to pulse.

For the first time since entering, Solin felt something dangerous stir in the air.

Dorian slowly stood, his movements controlled, precise. "Where?"

"In the city. During my rounds." Solin's voice remained steady, but he didn't miss the way Dorian's fingers curled into a fist at his side. "Arcon knows now."

Dorian exhaled through his nose, a long, measured breath.

Lirien glanced between them, sensing the unspoken weight of the conversation. "Who is Drevin?"

Solin didn't answer. It was Dorian who spoke, his voice quieter now, edged with something colder.

"A killer."

The silence stretched.

Solin folded his arms. "You've been training here for weeks. I take it you were preparing for something?"

Dorian didn't look away. "If he's here, then it means the time is close."

Lirien frowned. "The time for what?"

Solin sighed "For him to settle a score."

He didn't have to say what that score was. Everyone in the room already knew.