Dorian stood frozen, his heart thundering in his chest, as the woman's presence pressed down on him like a weight, suffocating the room with its intensity. The power from the altar still crackled in the air, and the floor beneath him seemed to shift, as though the world itself was bending toward something inevitable.
"You're not the only one with a role to play, Dorian Keil," the woman repeated, her voice cold, measured, and imbued with a strange certainty. "But don't be fooled. The power you're reaching for will not be kind to you. It never is."
Dorian's mind raced. Power, destruction, storm. The words tangled in his mind, each one carrying a weight he wasn't sure he was ready to understand. Everything inside him urged him to grasp at the power he felt so clearly, to claim it, to let it course through him until he could control it. But the woman's warning—the foreboding in her voice—made something in his gut twist.
His eyes flicked toward Galen, who stood tense, every muscle in his body coiled as if ready to spring. Galen's gaze flickered between Dorian and the woman, the air thick with fear.
"You have to listen to her," Galen said, his voice low and urgent. "This is bigger than you, Dorian. This isn't just about the Spire or the wards. This is about everything. The whole city. The world."
Dorian's chest tightened. "I don't have a choice. Don't you see? The city—this world—it's falling apart. The wards are unraveling. I have to do something."
"You think this is the answer?" The woman's voice was almost mocking now. "You think you can fix this by harnessing the very thing that is destroying it? You are not the first to believe they could control the storm, Dorian Keil. And you will not be the last to burn in its flames."
The power in the room surged again, and for a brief moment, Dorian felt his control slip. His fingers tingled with magic, raw and uncontrollable, surging beneath his skin, begging for release. His heart raced as he felt it pulse through him, making him feel both invincible and terrified at once.
"I can control it," Dorian muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "I have to."
"You think you can control the storm, but you're just its eye," the woman said, her words sharp like knives. "Everything you do will feed it. And when it consumes you, it will destroy everything you hold dear."
Dorian took a step back, his breath ragged. Everything I hold dear? His mind flashed to Alira, to his family—his mother, who was always so weary, so resigned to their fate. What if this power could save them? What if this is how I can finally change everything?
But the woman's warning lingered in his mind, like a shadow he couldn't shake. What if she was right? What if the power that had awakened inside him wasn't a gift, but a curse? What if the storm he was unleashing was one that no one could survive?
He looked at the woman again, her veiled face unreadable. There was something about her—something ancient and knowing. She wasn't like the others, not like the Haves who had always ruled with magic. She was something more, something older, something that could see through the illusions Dorian had built in his mind.
"I don't understand," Dorian said, his voice trembling now. "What is this power? Where does it come from? Why am I the one it's chosen?"
The woman's gaze softened, just for a moment, before she spoke again. "This power comes from a time long before the Spire. Long before the magic that sustains your city ever took root. You are part of something older, Dorian. Something that existed before the wards, before the wealth, before the magic that binds everything together. You are the blood of that power, but you have no idea what it means."
Galen stepped forward, his voice tight with urgency. "You're not telling him anything! What do you want from him?"
The woman turned her gaze on Galen, her eyes darkening. "I want him to understand the price of what he's trying to do. But it's not my place to make that choice. He is the one who must decide. Not me."
Dorian felt a cold knot form in his stomach as the weight of her words settled on him. The price. There was always a price. He had seen it in the eyes of the Have-nots, the ones who had given up hope, resigned to the fact that they would never have a chance to change their fate.
"Why me?" Dorian asked again, his voice cracking under the pressure. "Why did this power choose me?"
The woman's expression grew distant, as if she were looking past him, through him, to a place Dorian couldn't reach. "You have always been part of it, Dorian. The storm does not choose—it only finds those who are already destined to carry it. You have always carried the spark of that power inside you. But it was dormant. And now, it's waking."
"Waking?" Galen repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "This is insane. You're telling him he's been chosen by—what?—a storm that will burn the world to the ground?"
Dorian stepped back, shaking his head. "I don't want to be a part of this. I don't want to be the one who brings it all down."
But even as the words left his mouth, Dorian felt it—the pull, the hunger, the need to reach for the power that thrummed beneath his skin. It was like a song, a call to something deep within him that he couldn't ignore.
"You can't walk away from this, Dorian," the woman said, her voice soft, almost sympathetic. "Not now. Not with what you've awakened."
Dorian's pulse quickened, and for the first time, he truly felt the storm within him. It wasn't a thing he could control. It was a force of nature, wild and untamed, and it was slowly consuming him.
His breath hitched as he turned back to the altar, the symbols flashing in time with his heartbeat. "I… I don't know if I can stop it," he whispered. "I don't know if I even want to."
The woman stepped closer, her voice low and knowing. "You will have to decide soon. The storm is coming, Dorian. Whether you control it or not, it will change everything. And it will change you."
The air in the room shifted, heavy and oppressive, and for a moment, Dorian felt the weight of the choice that lay before him—a choice that could tear apart everything he knew and understood.
"I… I can't do this alone," Dorian whispered, almost to himself.
"You never were," the woman replied softly, her eyes flickering with a depth of understanding that both unsettled and comforted him. "But remember this: power is a double-edged blade. And you will either wield it to change the world—or watch it shatter beneath you."