Lucanis was staggering.

  Going from extreme altitude to the surface in a single leap had brought his entire body to its knees. He was shivering. His breath was short. His body felt disconnected.

  But what he saw first was blood.

  Blood everywhere.

  And that fracture. Enormous. Wider than anything he had ever seen. Several times larger than a normal fracture. It pulsed like a diseased heart.

  He dragged himself along, his pack on his back, each step an ordeal. He looked up: guards were running toward him.

  He cast one last glance at the fracture.

  “But what is happening here…?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

  A guard rushed toward him, looking panicked.

  “Bearer Velcrann! Follow me!”

  Lucanis fell to his knees. He could no longer feel his fingers. Nor his toes. Nor the tip of his nose.

  The guard slipped his arm beneath Lucanis’s shoulder to lift him to his feet. He took his weight without hesitation and led him toward the stands, in the direction of the others.

  “Bearer Velcrann, are you injured?”

  Lucanis replied in a low, trembling voice:

  “Frostbite… fingers, toes… maybe the nose too…”

  The guard glanced at his face, or what he could see of it. A thick hood and iridescent goggles covered half of it. But the blackened tip of his nose betrayed the necrosis.

  The guard clenched his teeth.

  “What… what is that fracture?…” Lucanis breathed, on the verge of fainting.

  “Hold on, Bearer, we are almost there!”

  He managed to drag Lucanis to the stands, where Vélara, Althéa, and the queen were. The king, meanwhile, had not moved. Still seated on his white marble throne, his eyes fixed on the fracture.

  Vélara stepped forward and relieved the guard.

  “Master… is that you?” Lucanis articulated, his voice hoarse.

  “What happened to you, my boy?” Vélara asked, beginning to strip him of his equipment.

  She detached the ice axes fixed to his back, briefly examining them without quite understanding what she was holding.

  Lucanis struggled to remain standing.

  Vélara undid the pack, the ropes, the suit. She moved quickly, precise, methodical.

  Althéa had risen. She joined Vélara without a word. The queen followed, at a distance, observing Lucanis with interest — measuring her own stakes.

  Althéa took Lucanis by the shoulders to help him stay upright while Vélara removed his suit. His eyes were half closed. He was swaying.

  “Althéa… is that you?” he murmured, lost.

  “Yes, it’s me, Lucanis.”

  Vélara finally removed the suit. Underneath, Lucanis wore a layer of tight thermal clothing. His skin was marbled red and blue.

  “What happened to you?” Althéa asked. “You are frozen.”

  They laid him down on the cold slabs.

  Lucanis, gasping, managed to articulate:

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  “I climbed a mountain… I was at the summit. Higher than anything. Higher than any known peak. I had to… I had to climb for an entire night.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then resumed, as if reciting a diagnosis.

  “Frostbite on the fingers… on the toes… the nose too. But you probably saw that. Lack of oxygen. Blood too oxygen-deprived… I’m about to pass out. I have altitude sickness. And… extreme fatigue.”

  He swallowed.

  “Hallucinations… but I will spare you the details. And a… terrible headache.”

  At those words, Vélara straightened abruptly. She brought her hand to her forehead.

  Althéa looked at her.

  They understood.

  Time was running out for Lucanis.

  “WE NEED HEALERS!” Althéa shouted, frantic.

  But Lucanis, in a rasp, cut her off:

  “And Kael?…”

  Althéa, her eyes shining with tears, pointed at the gigantic fracture.

  Lucanis followed her gesture. Then he smiled. And laughed. A broken, tearing laugh that immediately turned into a coughing fit.

  “But what has that poor fool done this time…?”

  Althéa laughed in turn, nervously. Tears were now running down Lucanis’s cheeks.

  “I think… I am not going to make it,” he said, half-breath.

  “Be quiet,” Vélara cut in sharply. “Save your strength!”

  But Lucanis continued, his eyes lost in the sky, a spark of stars in his pupils.

  “You should have seen the summit… It was magnificent. I really wanted to reach it.”

  He caught his breath, one hand on his chest.

  “If death is the price to pay… then so be it.”

  A strange warmth was born in his veins.

  It spread. Through his muscles, his organs, his heart. He inhaled sharply.

  “I feel strange…” he breathed.

  He straightened slightly.

  “I hear voices… Is that normal?”

  Vélara, suddenly tense, swept the area with her gaze.

  Around them, everywhere, sparks of Elan appeared. Golden, blue, red filaments… detaching from the air, the ground, the walls, converging toward Lucanis.

  “He’s pulling in all the Elan around us,” she said, fascinated. “He is draining it… entirely.”

  Lucanis tilted his head back.

  And in his mind, a voice resonated, clear, synthetic, implacable:

  ((Trame detected… Innate Trame… Evaluation… Trame evaluated.))

  All the particles of Elan pressed against his body. On his fingers, his toes, his face. Where the skin was dead. Where the frostbite had blackened his flesh. Where the pain still lived.

  Althéa watched, mouth slightly open, between tears and contemplation. Vélara remained frozen. Fascinated.

  The voice resumed:

  ((Trame assigned: Perfect Adaptation.))

  The Elan shimmered.

  Then disappeared beneath Lucanis’s skin. Absorbed. Digested.

  And then…

  His skin rebuilt itself.

  The marks of frost vanished.

  His fingers, his toes, his nose… healed. Perfectly.

  His chest rose suddenly: his lungs were functioning again at full capacity.

  His blood began to circulate again, strong, fast, alive.

  His vision became clear, of unprecedented sharpness.

  His muscles, warm. Ready. Reactive.

  Lucanis slowly straightened.

  He raised his hands before him. Observed them.

  They were glowing.

  He felt impossibly strong.

  Around him, not a sound. The entire assembly was watching him.

  Even the king had turned his head to look at him.

  The light dimmed.

  Lucanis had just been reborn.

  And the voice, in his mind, declared:

  ((Clarification complete.

  Trame assigned: Perfect Adaptation.

  Role: vector of instantaneous evolution.

  Effect: the bearer’s organism readjusts in real time to any physical, chemical, thermal constraint.))

  Lucanis stood up abruptly.

  His footing was firm. Solid. All his joints, painful for weeks, were new. As if regenerated.

  A blissful smile lit his face.

  His green eyes, usually piercing, had changed. They resembled those of a child. Awed.

  Althéa, still on her knees, was watching him, stunned.

  The queen as well.

  Vélara, however, remained motionless. Her gaze fixed on Lucanis — not on his body, but inside him. As if she were scrutinizing his soul.

  She finally breathed out, stunned:

  “It is… incredible…”

  “What is happening, Vélara?” the queen asked.

  Vélara did not answer immediately. She slowly approached Lucanis, examined him closely, placed her hands on his shoulders, his arms, his muscles. She felt. Studied. Fascinated.

  And then she declared, in a breath:

  “Lucanis… you have potentially become the ultimate life form.”

  Silence fell.

  “If you reach the highest level of Elan mastery… then you will be invincible.”

  She paused. Her gaze was shining.

  “And immortal.”

  Vélara, her eyes gleaming with curiosity, could not help but ask:

  “And you, Lucanis? Your Dominant Trait, what is it?”

  She had moved closer, almost feverish. She looked like a child about to unwrap a gift. Curiosity devoured her.

  Lucanis opened his mouth to answer, but Althéa cut him off sharply:

  “Ask yourself the question in your head. Your subconscious will answer you.” — She stood back up.

  Lucanis blinked, slightly bewildered.

  “Huh?”

  “Yes, I know, it sounds strange at first… but do it,” Althéa insisted with a half-smile. “You will see.”

  He shrugged, amused, then closed his eyes for a second.

  What is my Notable Trait? he simply thought.

  The voice surged immediately, clear, implacable:

  ((Dominant Trait: The Instinct of Panh.))

  ((Natural consciousness aligned with the laws of life.))

  Lucanis scratched the back of his head, somewhat lost.

  “My Dominant Trait… is called the Instinct of Panh. And… apparently, my consciousness aligns with the laws of the living. I am not quite sure what that means…”

  Vélara sighed, a smile on her lips, amused and perplexed at once.

  “That makes two incomprehensible Dominant Trait that sound powerful already. We just need Kael’s, and we will know.”

  The queen had stars in her eyes.

  Without a word, she approached her daughter. Althéa was staring at Lucanis, fascinated, her hands still trembling.