Atlas’ POV

*****

Beach House, 3:35 Pm

"Ah," he sighed with satisfaction, walking away from the waves and sitting on a mat spread several meters away from it. A flick of his wrist manifested an umbrella over him while another brought a glass of a drink he made himself. "I’ll rest here for a bit!"

Although he yelled, Silas and Celeste were still splashing in the water. The Beta had his strong arms wrapped around their mate’s waist from behind, lifting her as she giggled and kicked.

Atlas found himself smiling.

Hours ago when Celeste revealed what was really happening to her, they’d almost let the tension consume them. Fortunately, they’ve found a way to add some normalcy—while awaiting uncertain doom.

"Dark sigils." He murmured, summoning a grimoire he kept in his room. Not just any grimoire either.

This was his gift for being one of the winners of the Blood Trials.

A grimoire written before the century long war. Containing knowledge on ancient arts from well over a millenia. Or at least, that’s what they said.

So far, he’s not found anything of much value.

"My magic has been in a bottleneck for a few months now," his fingers brushed across the book’s hard cover. "If I could maybe find something useful during my search in understanding these dark sigils... then maybe..."

He could become more powerful in turn.

While ensuring Celeste doesn’t become a conduit for something chaotic.

Win-win.

"Celeste?" As usual when he flipped through the grimoire’s pages, he didn’t find anything useful. So he called his mate. "Can you come here for a minute?"

She and Silas paused, both looking at him.

When Atlas gave Silas a discreetly serious glance, the Beta finally dropped Celeste. She still had a bright smile as she strutted toward Atlas, hips swaying in a way that almost made him forget why he called her.

Spirits give him strength.

"What’s up?" She chirped, dropping to a mat beside him. "Found anything about the Dark sigils in that grimoire?"

Atlas shook his head. "I’ve realised I don’t exactly have a clear description of these sigils. Just that they’re... well, dark." He meant to sound funny but all Celeste did was blink with expectation. "And them being chaotic. But I need something beyond that. A clear picture perhaps."

Celeste’s lashes fluttered rapidly. "Oh. I mean, it’s not like I can summon them at will."

"No." Atlas kept the book aside. "But you can paint me a picture. Just describe how they looked and I’ll try checking if they’re anything like regular sigils."

Sigils and runes were ancient languages representing different facets of magic, nature and the universe. Understanding and interpreting them was vital if a witch or Hunter wanted to be skilled in using them.

Hesitating for a moment, Celeste’s eyes shut for a few seconds. Then, she brought a finger to the sand. "I can’t really remember all of them. But there was one that... caught my attention."

She began tracing on the sand, piquing Atlas’ attention. He sat up, watching as she drew the line to a point, halted, then continued drawing all over again.

When she was done—his mouth parted. "That’s... new..."

The symbol before him was unlike any he’s seen.

It did not resemble any known sigil.

Those were structured—angular, designed to project power outward like a weapon drawn.

This was something else.

It curved in places that geometrically made no sense. Lines intersected without touching, bending in ways that made the eye strain as if trying to focus on something both near and impossibly distant.

At first glance, it appeared symmetrical. At second glance, it wasn’t. At third, it seemed to have shifted entirely.

Its core was a hollow circle—no, not hollow. Devoured. As though something had been erased from the center and the absence itself had been branded into flesh. Around it coiled fractured arcs, jagged but not sharp, like bones that had healed wrong.

"Gods below..." Atlas muttered, brushing a hand down his face. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

Celeste let out a frustrated breath. "Meaning we’re back to square one, huh?"

"Not quite." He shook his head. "It means we now know that whoever did this is truly powerful. Or maybe... it stems deeper than someone merely imprinting on you."

"Sounds awfully like we’re back to square one to me."

Atlas didn’t smile.

He was still staring at the sigil carved into the sand like it might start breathing.

Celeste hugged her knees. "When my mom visited last time, she told me something. I thought it was just one of her dramatic bedtime confessions." She huffed softly. "She said she was once linked to the Vein. Its chaotic well of magic energy. That it nearly consumed her before she finally found a way to relinquish its power."

Atlas’ brows lifted slightly. "The Vein?"

"I know how that sounds," she rushed. "But she described it so well. Not to mention I’ve heard talks about her connection to it before."

He leaned back slowly. "I’ve also heard fragments of this story. Whispers in older coven circles. But it’s conveniently absent from post-war history books. Almost like it was erased."

Celeste’s jaw tightened. "Exactly. And these sigils?" She gestured at the sand. "They don’t feel like someone marked me. They feel like something older. Like the Vein reached up and branded me itself."

The wind shifted.

Atlas studied her carefully. No exaggeration in her tone. No hysteria. Just conviction.

"I think," she swallowed, softer now, "it’s high time I stop keeping things from my parents. About the bonds. The sigils. All of it. If Mom was truly connected to the Vein once... then she might know what this means."

That was logical. Dangerously logical.

Atlas glanced at the ocean where Silas was now watching them from afar.

The Dean had insisted on this vacation.

Insisted they ’rest’. Insisted they leave the Academy grounds right after the Blood Trials.

His gaze drifted back to the distorted symbol in the sand. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

It was all too convenient. Too timed.

This didn’t feel like coincidence.

It felt orchestrated.

As though pieces had been nudged into place long before Celeste ever stepped onto this beach.

And he did not like being part of someone else’s design.