The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the training yard, casting long shadows over the gathered students. Today's lesson was about control and balance — mastering the Sigil energy without letting it consume the wielder.
Lucian stood among the crowd, his hands trembling slightly. The wind around him stirred nervously, as if sharing his tension.
Master Joren stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Today, you will focus on elemental harmony. The mind must be calm, the heart steady. Without this, power becomes destruction."
Lucian closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He reached first for the wind—a familiar rush of air that swirled effortlessly around him.
Then, with effort, he summoned the ember of fire, a faint flicker glowing on his palm.
But when he tried to ground himself, the earth beneath him quaked slightly — his control faltering.
A few students gasped.
Master Joren's gaze sharpened. "Careful, Zevrik. Power without control is a liability."
Frustrated, Lucian clenched his fists. Why can't I tame these powers like the others? he wondered.
Later, as the training ended, Seris approached with a sly grin. "Don't hurt yourself trying to be a hero, Zevrik. Some of us were born with the blessing of a single Sigil. You're just a mistake."
Before Lucian could respond, Maren stepped beside him, her eyes blazing. "Watch your tongue, Seris. He's more capable than you'll ever be."
The tension was palpable, but Lucian felt something inside him hardening — a resolve to prove his worth.
That night, alone in his room, he traced the wing tattoos on his back and whispered, "I will master this… no matter what."
Unbeknownst to him, deep in the capital, shadows moved silently. A figure watched, whispering, "The fallen one awakens. The Pillars will soon know his true power."