An acrid smell of burnt wood and disturbed earth was the first thing to assault Kaelen's senses as he emerged from the depths of unconsciousness. He opened his eyes slowly, meeting the blackened ceiling beams of Oakhaven's Council House. He was lying on a makeshift cot, a rough blanket pulled up to his chin. In the distance, muffled echoes of activity reached him: the murmur of voices, a stifled sob, the dragging of heavy objects. Oakhaven's normality had been shattered.
He turned his head with an effort that felt monumental, every muscle in his body protesting with a dull ache. Seated on a simple chair a few feet from his cot was the white-haired woman. Lyra. She was observing an ancient map spread out on a small side table, illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle, her profile as serene and sharp as that of a marble statue amidst the residual chaos. She seemed entirely oblivious to the disorder surrounding her, as if inhabiting a space of calm perceptible only to her.
Kaelen tried to speak, but only a dry croak escaped his throat.
Lyra looked up, her blue eyes meeting his without surprise. "You're awake?" Her voice was like the distant tolling of a bell, clear and without unnecessary inflection. She set the map aside and approached, offering him a small wooden bowl of water. "Drink. Slowly."
He obeyed, the cool water a relief to his parched throat. Images from the previous night returned in confusing, terrifying waves: the Scar in the sky, the creatures, Martha's fear, the golden light erupting from his own hands…
"What… what happened?" he managed to ask, his voice still hoarse. "The villagers? Martha?"
"The survivors are being tended to," Lyra replied, her tone neutral but not unfeeling. "The old woman you protected is safe, though frightened, as is natural. The immediate threat has been neutralized." She paused, her eyes fixed on him. "Thanks to you, in part. And then, thanks to me."
Kaelen looked at her, trying to process. "Me? I don't… I don't know what I did."
"You don't?" Lyra tilted her head slightly, an almost academic curiosity in her gaze. "Describe to me what you felt. When that creature attacked the old woman. And later, when the guard faced the horned being."
He closed his eyes, reliving the moments. "I felt… fear. Everyone's fear. It was like a wave, drowning me. And then… I just wanted to protect her. For them not to hurt her." He remembered the golden light, the barrier. "It was as if something inside me responded, a… a warmth." Then, the memory of the guard. "With the guard… it was different. I felt his own fear, but also his courage. I wanted to help him, to give him strength." The image of the momentary glow around the young man returned to his mind.
"Anima Resonance," Lyra said, the word echoing in the stillness of the room. "What you possess is a form of it, an exceptionally potent and… peculiar manifestation. You are a Portador, Kaelen."
Portador. The word the traveler had used, that Martha had whispered with fear. The word Elara had never uttered, but which now seemed to define him.
"But Portadores… they control the elements, read minds, things like that," Kaelen stammered, recalling the stories. "I just… I don't know what I did."
"There are many paths to power," Lyra replied. "Yours is that of the soul itself. You feel the emotions of others, connect with their anima-cores. And apparently," her eyes gleamed with a sharper interest, "you can amplify their life force, their will, even their own latent abilities. The shield you created, the empowerment of the guard… are manifestations of this."
Kaelen shivered. Had he done all that? The idea was overwhelming. A gift like that…
"Is it… a good thing?" he asked with an almost childlike naivety.
Lyra's expression didn't change. "Power in itself is neither good nor evil, Kaelen. It is a tool. Its nature is defined by the one who wields it." She rose, walking towards the window that overlooked the battered square. "Oakhaven has suffered. There are dead, injured. The Void Scar, though brief, has left its poisonous mark on the forest and in the hearts of these people."
Kaelen followed her gaze. Through the gap in the window, he saw villagers moving like ghosts amidst the rubble, smoke still rising from a couple of burned-out buildings. A woman's cry reached them, sharp and heart-wrenching. He felt a tightness in his chest, a mixture of guilt and a profound sorrow.
"Did… did my power attract this?" he asked, his voice barely a thread.
"An awakening of such magnitude does not go unnoticed," Lyra confirmed, turning back to him. "It's like lighting a bonfire on a dark night in enemy territory. It draws attention. From the creatures of the Void, undoubtedly, which are instinctively drawn to large concentrations of anima energy. And from others."
"Others?"
"Portadores. Factions. Those who seek power, or those who fear those who possess it without control," Lyra explained. "Your resonance, even now, as you lie here, is a subtle signature in the fabric of the world, perceptible to those with the right sensitivity. You are an anomaly, Kaelen. And anomalies are rarely ignored for long."
The weight of her words crushed him. Not only was he different, he was a danger. To himself, and potentially to Oakhaven if he remained. The thought of leaving the only home he had ever known, however precarious and lonely it sometimes was, brought a chilling emptiness to his stomach. But the image of the creatures, of the terror in Martha's eyes, was even more potent.
"Elara always said that every gift carries a burden," Kaelen murmured, more to himself than to Lyra. He remembered the old herbalist, her face lined with wise wrinkles, her hands always busy with herbs and salves. Would she have known what he was? Would she have suspected? Perhaps that was why she had found him in the forest, a place the people of Oakhaven shunned.
Lyra nodded slowly. "Your mentor was wise. The burden of your gift is that you can no longer be simply Kaelen of Oakhaven. The world has found you." She approached the cot again, her presence filling the small room with a quiet authority. "What you felt last night, that connection, that ability to protect and empower… is only the beginning. But without control, without understanding, that same power could consume you or unleash even greater destruction."
Her blue eyes, deep as icy wells, met his. There was no threat in her voice, only the statement of an inescapable truth.
"Your old life ended when the Scar tore open the twilight, Kaelen," she said softly, but with a finality that brooked no argument. "The only question that matters now is what you will do with the one that has just begun. And for that," she paused, her gaze intensifying, "you will need guidance. And you will need it soon."
Kaelen looked at her, feeling the abyss of the unknown open before him. The fear was still there, a cold knot in his gut, but mixed with it was something else: a spark of the same determination he had felt protecting Martha, an incipient curiosity about the extent of this power that slumbered within him. Lyra's offer wasn't just an offer; it was a lifeline in a raging ocean. And though the destination that lifeline might lead him to was uncertain and perilous, the alternative—staying, waiting, being a latent threat—was unthinkable.
The silence stretched, heavy with the implications of her words. Outside, Oakhaven's lament continued, a constant reminder of what was at stake.