The night Castiel and Greed dueled.
Zera lay in bed, eyes wide open. Midnight crept closer. A lump formed in her throat, her chest tightened—an invisible weight pressing down. Something was wrong. Something evil was stirring far beyond the falls, and somehow… she felt it.
In another room, Colt sat at the window, unable to sleep. The stars blinked above him, indifferent and distant. He was deep in thought, questions clawing at his mind.
How could a place like this ever accept someone like me?
Can I really turn my back on the only life I've ever known? Leave my comrades to rot under the binds of evil?
Then, like a nostalgic memory, Elder Miran's words returned—soft, steady, and sure:
"You're not in Velarion by accident. What you're experiencing now is fate at work. Let fate decide—don't try to take it all on your shoulders."
Colt closed his eyes.
For the first time in years, he felt the wind not as a warning—but as a whisper of change.
In the House Kitchen
The night was too heavy for sleep.
Drew and Ursula sat in the kitchen, dim lantern light casting soft shadows on the wooden walls. The kettle steamed gently between them.
Ursula sipped her tea, her voice just above a whisper—tired, uncertain.
"Do you really think it was right for the elders to let Colt stay? He's an enemy… for crying out loud."
Drew didn't answer right away. He looked into his cup, the liquid trembling slightly in his hands. Then he met her eyes.
"This village is only standing because of them," he said, softly but firmly. "You and I both know we wouldn't have made it without their kindness. They took us in, gave us a home—even when we didn't deserve one."
He paused, then added gently, "Let's give Colt a chance. He's not that different from us."
Ursula looked away, silent. The kettle whistled low. Somewhere beyond the walls, the waterfall roared on, ancient and constant—like time itself, moving forward no matter what.
Just then—
A sudden flash lit up the sky.
Then—
BOOM!
A deafening sonic blast ripped through the night, scattering clouds and shaking the earth. Trees shuddered. Lanterns flickered. The waterfall behind the village raged louder, as though roaring in response.
The shockwave reached Velarion.
Teacups rattled on the kitchen table. Drew and Ursula froze, eyes wide.
In the elders' hall, aged scrolls fluttered from shelves. Candles extinguished themselves.
Zera shot up in bed, gasping—the lump in her throat now a storm in her chest.
Outside, Colt stood stunned, his eyes locked on the sky. The air had changed—he could feel it in his bones. Something immense had just happened. Something otherworldly.
Children stirred in their sleep. Animals howled uneasily.
The entire village of Velarion held its breath.
And from the waterfall… a low hum began to emanate. Ancient. Resonant. As though the very mountain was murmuring secrets in a forgotten tongue.
Morning light surged in.
Then—
SCREAMS.
From outside. Then inside.
A burst of heat blew the door off its hinges.
Colt's room was engulfed in flame.
But nothing burned.
He stood in the center, body trembling, eyes wide in disbelief. The fire roared around him—on him—coating his arms, chest. His hair flowed like embered smoke, his breath came in gasps.
But the fire did not consume him. It moved with him. Protected him like an ironclad armor.
He staggered back, crashing into the wall, panic flooding every nerve.
"Get it off!" he screamed. "GET IT OFF!"
The villagers gathered outside, some clutching spears, others backing away in fear.
Then—
The Elders arrived.
Miran stepped forward first, followed by Elder Haru and Elder Krena. Their eyes didn't flinch from the flames—they studied him.
Krena's eyes widened. Haru let out a low breath.
But it was Miran who whispered the word first.
"A… Pyra."
Gasps filled the hallway behind them.
Zera pushed through the crowd, her face frozen in disbelief.
Drew stood just behind her. "But that's impossible. He's not even from here."
Elder Haru glanced at Drew as if to tell him a secret.
Miran stepped cautiously into the doorway, raising a hand—not in fear, but in reverence.
"The flame doesn't burn him."
Colt collapsed to his knees, the fiery armor pulsing with each beat of his heart.
"What… what's happening to me?" he muttered, voice cracking.
Miran looked to the others.
"It's Karnithesis," he said. "His has awakened. And not just any form… but one of Pyra."
He turned to the gathering crowd, face stern.
"This is not a curse. This is power—old power. He may be the enemy we feared… but now he is something more."
Zera's eyes were locked on Colt—frightened, but not of him. Of what this meant.
And deep down, so was he.
Moments Later
At the school's sanctum.
The sanctum was quiet, built of smooth stone and warm light, its high ceilings echoing with the quiet shuffles of seated children. Banners of old Eidolons hung from the rafters, and incense lingered like memory.
Colt sat stiffly among the others—his newly scorched clothes replaced, but the tension in his chest had not faded. Around him, some children whispered. Others stared with awe or caution. Zera sat near the front, her wide eyes flicking between Elder Miran and the faint embers still pulsing faintly beneath Colt's skin.
"Your karnitheric abilities control the will of fire.I believe they were born through intense emotions.Most likely -"
"Anger." Colt interrupted."But I wasn't angry.I know this power is dangerous so you must think it was negative emotions."
"Emotion," Miran interrupted, "isn't always rage. Sometimes, it's grief. Doubt. A longing to change. You weren't chosen by the flame, Colt… it came from within you. That is the nature of Karnithesis."
Colt looked up, confused.
"Karnithesis?" he asked.
Miran nodded, the flames reflecting in his eyes.
"A power that resides within all humans. Dormant. Waiting.
Some awaken it through balance—harmony of body and soul.
Others… by trauma. Pain. Anger. Emotions too heavy to carry alone.
And then there are the cursed—the ones who make deals with demons, trading their soul for strength.
Those who awaken Karnithesis… we call them Eidolons."
Colt's breath hitched. "And I'm one of them now?"
"You've always been," said Elder Miran. "It just… surfaced."
He motioned toward the residual fire curling around Colt's hands.
"Your type is Pyra. Fire born not of heat, but of emotion. The more honest you are with yourself—the more your flame listens."
Miran smiled.
"And don't worry. You won't hurt anyone here."
He flicked his fingers. The sanctum doors creaked open on their own.
"Everyone in this room is an Eidolon."
Zera gave a short gasp.Somewhat confused.
He gave a short nod.
"Class dismissed."