The temple of Azur Peak stood as it had for centuries—silent, imposing, and hidden from the world.
Dawn painted the stone walls in amber hues as Caelum Skyshard completed his five-hundredth form, his bare feet barely making a sound against the weathered training yard. Sweat glistened on his forehead but his breathing remained controlled, each movement flowing into the next with practiced precision.
"Your stance is too wide," came a voice from behind him.
Caelum didn't flinch. He'd sensed Master Torvak's approach before the old monk had spoken—not with his ears, but with his eyes. His peculiar grey eyes that saw what others couldn't: the faint blue shimmer of mana that surrounded all living things.
"I adjusted for the uneven stone," Caelum replied, shifting his foot a fraction of an inch before launching into a spinning kick that would have impressed even the most hardened of the temple's warriors.
Master Torvak's weathered face remained impassive, but Caelum caught the subtle flare of mana around him—approval, though he'd never voice it.
"Today is the day," the master said simply.
Caelum lowered his stance and bowed. "Yes, Master."
"Sixteen years." Torvak circled him slowly. "Sixteen years we have prepared your body and mind. Whether your core awakens or not, remember that your worth is not determined by—"
"—but by the path I walk and the choices I make," Caelum finished with a hint of a smile. "You've only told me a thousand times."
The master's hand came swiftly, but Caelum was already moving, sidestepping the disciplinary tap with practiced ease. This time, Master Torvak did smile, though it was brief as winter sunshine.
"Impertinent as always. Come, the ritual chamber has been prepared."
As they walked through the ancient halls, younger acolytes stopped and stared. Caelum nodded to them casually, used to the attention. His grey eyes had marked him as different from birth—the ability to see mana was rare enough to be the stuff of legends.
"They expect great things from you," Torvak said quietly.
"And if my core remains dormant?"
"Then you will still be the best fighter this temple has produced in generations," the master replied without hesitation. "But I do not think that will be your path."
The ritual chamber was deep within the mountain, a perfect circle carved from living rock. Crystalline formations jutted from the walls, catching and refracting the light from dozens of candles. Five senior masters waited inside, standing at cardinal points around a central dais.
"Strip to the waist and kneel," Master Torvak instructed.
Caelum complied, removing his training vest and folding it neatly before taking his place at the centre of the room. The stone was cold against his knees, but he welcomed the sensation, using it to focus his mind.
"Caelum Skyshard," intoned the eldest master, her voice carrying unexpected power for someone so frail in appearance. "Today you stand at the threshold. The dormant core within you waits to be awakened."
The masters began to chant, their voices blending into a resonant hum that seemed to vibrate the very air. Caelum closed his eyes, following the breathing techniques he'd practiced for years.
In. Out. Feel the breath. Follow it inward.
Minutes passed, perhaps hours—time lost meaning as Caelum descended deeper into meditative trance. And then he felt it: a spark deep within his chest, like a match struck in absolute darkness.
His eyes snapped open, but he no longer saw the chamber. Instead, he found himself standing in an endless void, facing a strange, pulsing orb of light. The orb was small, no larger than a marble, but it emanated a gentle radiance.
This is my core, he realised with sudden clarity.
As if responding to his thoughts, the orb flared brighter. Caelum reached out, not physically but with his consciousness, and touched it.
The effect was immediate and overwhelming. The tiny orb erupted with blinding light, and Caelum felt a searing heat flood through his veins. But before he could process the sensation, a second force slammed into him—wild, untamed, like being caught in a tornado.
Fire and air. Two elements where there should have been only one.
In the physical world, the masters stumbled back as a whirlwind of flame erupted around Caelum's kneeling form. His hair whipped in the elemental storm of his own making, eyes glowing like twin stars.
"Impossible," someone gasped.
Master Torvak alone stood his ground, watching with grim satisfaction as his student rose to his feet, the tempest gradually coming under control until only a nimbus of heat shimmer and gentle breeze surrounded him.
"Dual affinity," Torvak said, his voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Fire and air."
Caelum looked down at his hands, where tiny flames danced between his fingers, guided by currents of air that he could now feel as extensions of himself. Through his mana-sight, he saw his body illuminated from within, threads of crimson and silver light pulsing through channels that had always been there, dormant until now.
"What does this mean?" he asked, though in his heart, he already knew.
"It means," Master Torvak said gravely, "that your path lies beyond these walls, Caelum Skyshard. The temple is no place for what you are becoming."
The next morning found Caelum at the highest point of Azur Peak, watching the sunrise from a meditation platform that jutted out over a thousand-foot drop. The air was thin up here, bitingly cold, but he no longer felt the chill as he once had. His newly awakened core—his Kindled Core, as the texts described this first stage—provided an inner warmth that kept the worst of the elements at bay.
"I thought I'd find you here," came a familiar voice.
Lian, his closest friend among the acolytes, carefully made her way onto the platform. Unlike him, she wore a heavy cloak against the mountain chill.
"Are the rumors true?" she asked, sitting beside him. "Two elements?"
Caelum nodded, summoning a small flame to his palm. With a thought, he sent it spinning in a tight circle, guided by a current of air.
"The masters are in an uproar," Lian continued. "Half of them think you're the chosen one from that old prophecy; the other half want to seal your powers before you burn down the temple."
"I have control," Caelum said, though even as he spoke, the flame in his hand flared unexpectedly, nearly singeing his fingertips before he quelled it.
Lian gave him a skeptical look. "Sure you do."
"I'm leaving," he said abruptly. "Tomorrow."
Her eyes widened. "Leaving? For where?"
"The capital. Ardentia." Caelum gazed out at the distant horizon, where somewhere beyond the mountain ranges and forests lay the heart of the kingdom. "I'm going to join the Academy."
"The military Academy?" Lian's voice rose in disbelief. "Caelum, they'll use you as a weapon. The temple has always stood apart from kingdom politics for good reason."
"And what would you have me do? Stay here, meditating and practicing forms until I'm old and grey? My core is awakened now. I need to understand it, to master it." He clenched his fist, extinguishing the flame. "And I won't learn how by hiding on this mountain."
Lian was silent for a long moment. "Master Torvak approved this?"
"He suggested it," Caelum admitted. "Said my path leads elsewhere now."
"Well," she said finally, "I suppose if anyone could survive the Academy, it would be you." She punched his arm lightly. " Just don't forget us when you're a famous battle mage."
Caelum smiled, but his mind was already racing ahead, imagining the challenges that awaited him. The Academy was notoriously selective and brutal in its training—but also the finest institution for those with awakened cores. If he was to understand this power surging within him, that was where he needed to be.
"I should pack," he said, rising to his feet.
As they made their way back down the narrow mountain path, Caelum felt something shift in the air. He paused, his grey eyes narrowing as he scanned their surroundings.
"What is it?" Lian asked.
"Something's wrong," he murmured. His mana-sight revealed disturbances in the natural flow of energy around them—jagged, sickly green interruptions that shouldn't be there.
A heartbeat later, a roar shattered the morning calm. From the forest below, a massive shape burst through the treeline—a mountain bear, but grotesquely transformed. Its fur was patched with crystalline growths that pulsed with that same sickly green energy, and its eyes glowed with unnatural rage.
"Corruption," Lian whispered in horror. "It's a corrupted beast!"
The temple bells began to ring in alarm as the beast charged up the path toward them, moving with impossible speed for something so large. Caelum pushed Lian behind him.
"Run back to the temple," he ordered. "Alert the masters."
"You can't face it alone! You've only just awakened!"
But Caelum was already moving forward, dropping into the fighting stance that had been drilled into him since childhood. The bear roared again, rearing up to its full twelve-foot height as it spotted him.
Fire and air, Caelum thought, reaching for the newly awakened power within. Let's see what you can do.
As the corrupted beast charged, Caelum felt his mana core flare to life. Fire rushed through his veins, and the air around him began to stir. He took a deep breath and met the monster's charge head-on.
His first strike, a palm thrust imbued with flame, barely slowed the creature. Its corrupted hide absorbed the impact, those crystal growths glowing brighter as if feeding on his magic. Claws the size of daggers swept toward him, forcing Caelum into a desperate backward flip that carried him farther than ordinary muscle should allow—his air affinity responding instinctively to his need.
I need more power, he realised, dodging another swipe. But I don't know how to—The beast feinted, then lunged with unexpected cunning. Caelum felt white-hot pain as claws raked across his chest, sending him sprawling. The corrupted bear advanced, slavering jaws open wide.
Fear and pain triggered something primal within him. His mana core pulsed, and suddenly both elements responded at once—not separately, but together. The air around his hands super-heated, creating a vacuum that pulled more oxygen toward the rapidly forming flames. In an instant, what should have been a novice's fire burst became a roaring inferno that engulfed the beast.
The corrupted bear shrieked, thrashing as blue-white flames to its body. The crystal growths on its hide began to crack and shatter. Caelum pressed forward, instinctively guiding the flames with currents of air, focusing the heat on those unnatural formations.
When the final crystal exploded, the bear collapsed, its form shrinking and twisting until only a normal—if badly burned—mountain bear remained. The sickly green energy dissipated like smoke.
Caelum staggered, suddenly drained. His chest burned where the claws had struck, and his vision swam. He felt hands supporting him and turned to find not just Lian, but Master Torvak as well.
"Foolish," the master said gruffly, though concern lined his weathered face. "Brave, but foolish."
"Did you see?" Caelum managed through gritted teeth. "I combined them... just for a moment."
Master Torvak's expression turned grave. "I saw. You accessed lightning aspect without proper training—a dangerous feat that could have burned out your channels entirely." He shook his head. "This only confirms what I suspected. You need teachers beyond what we can provide here."
As other masters arrived to tend to the unconscious bear and examine the remains of the corruption crystals, Torvak helped Caelum back toward the temple.
"The corruption spreads," the old master muttered, more to himself than to Caelum. "Even to our remote peaks now. The balance shifts."
"What causes it?" Caelum asked, wincing as a healer applied salve to his wounds.
"That, young Skyshard, is one of many questions you might help answer." Torvak's eyes were distant.
"The Academy has been researching the corruption phenomenon for years. Perhaps your unique abilities and your mana-sight will offer new insights."
Later, as Caelum lay in the infirmary, his wounds bandaged and his body aching from mana exhaustion, he stared at the ceiling and contemplated what had happened. For a brief, glorious moment when both elements had merged, he'd felt a power unlike anything he'd ever imagined—wild and terrifying, but also exhilarating.
Lightning aspect. The secondary element born from the fusion of fire and air.
His hands still tingled from the memory, and in the darkness, he could see the channels of mana within them glowing brighter than before. His core had been kindled, and now the first flow had begun.
Tomorrow he would descend from Azur Peak and begin the journey to Ardentia. To the Academy, where he would learn to control this power properly—or be destroyed by it.
Either way, Caelum Skyshard knew his life would never be the same.