"Even the brightest suns cast the darkest shadows."
The morning wind tasted like salt and stone.
Kael stood at the edge of the cliff that framed the monastery, eyes trained on the horizon. From this height, the world below looked small—an ocean of green trees that stretched endlessly to the west, pierced only by distant mountains and a shimmering silver river.
He hated mornings like this. Not because of the beauty. But because of the stillness.
Stillness meant control. Stillness meant waiting.
And Kael had learned that his power hated waiting.
"You're not meditating," Master Jino said behind him.
Kael exhaled. "I can't clear my mind."
"That is because you are not meant to."
Kael turned to look at him, confused. Jino had always preached discipline, silence, control. But now the old man walked forward, the morning sun wrapping around his silhouette like a second robe.
"Your mind is not a pond," Jino continued. "It is a storm. And you must learn to sail through it, not empty it."
Kael crossed his arms. "Is that what my father did?"
Jino's eyes darkened. A rare expression. "No. Your father was calm water. You... you're something else entirely."
A gust of wind rose between them. Jino walked past Kael and gestured for him to follow.
The inner courtyard of the monastery had been prepared. Its stone floor had been cleared, the training dummies removed. In their place, a single slab of obsidian stone sat in the center. Dark. Unyielding.
Kael stared at it. "What's this?"
Jino answered by drawing a curved blade from within his robe. The weapon shimmered slightly, forged from auric steel. An heirloom of the Sun Guardians.
"Strike it."
Kael raised a brow. "The obsidian? With that? It won't even scratch."
"Not with this," Jino said, offering the blade. "With your core."
Kael took the weapon cautiously. It was heavier than it looked, yet familiar. It hummed in his hand like it knew him.
He breathed in.
"Focus your light," Jino instructed.
Kael closed his eyes.
The warmth stirred. It was always there—a quiet ember nestled behind his ribs. He had learned to coax it slowly, draw it like a breath. Not too fast, or it would surge. Not too slow, or it would sleep.
He focused. His skin began to glow faintly.
A golden thread ran from his chest to his arms, spreading into the blade. The sword shimmered, then blazed with white-gold energy.
Kael opened his eyes and struck.
The sound echoed like thunder.
When the light faded, the slab of obsidian had split down the center.
Perfectly.
Jino nodded slowly. "Good. Again."
Kael struck again.
And again.
Each time, the energy surged quicker. Hotter. More intense.
The final blow shattered the slab entirely. Pieces exploded across the courtyard, and Kael staggered back, panting.
"Too much," Jino said. "Control it."
Kael dropped the blade, the heat burning his palm. "I can't. It's like it grows inside me, and the more I hold it in, the more it fights back."
"Because you are still afraid."
Kael looked up. "Of what?"
"Of what you might become."
Jino knelt, picking up a shard of obsidian. "Light, when bottled, becomes pressure. And pressure breaks glass. You must release, not contain."
Kael clenched his jaw. "I try. But at night... it wins."
Jino's face turned grim. "Tonight, we test it."
That evening, the sky darkened earlier than usual. Heavy clouds rolled in from the north, blanketing the stars. No moonlight. No wind. Just darkness.
Kael sat cross-legged in the shrine hall, candles lit around him. He wore simple linen clothes. His hands trembled slightly.
Jino stood near the entrance, staff in hand.
"No speaking. No chanting. Just listen to the dark. Let it enter."
Kael nodded.
He closed his eyes.
At first, nothing.
Then a whisper.
Soft. Gentle. Female.
"Why do you fear yourself?"
Kael's heart pounded. His eyes remained closed.
"Do you not see? You are the flame. You are the fire that consumes the stars. Let me show you. Let me out."
His breath quickened. The heat in his chest turned cold. Icy. Then hot again. Then everything at once.
He gasped—but didn't scream.
Jino watched, unmoving.
The air grew thick. The candles flickered violently, some going out.
Kael's eyes flew open.
They were black.
The darkness had awakened.
His body convulsed. Fingers digging into the ground. A growl escaped his throat. He stood slowly, moving like a shadow rising from the floor.
Jino stepped forward. "Kael."
The boy did not answer.
He moved.
Fast.
Jino barely raised his staff in time to deflect the strike. Kael had crossed the room in seconds. He moved again—no, vanished—appearing behind the old master with a fist wreathed in flame-dark shadow.
Jino ducked, sweeping Kael's legs. The boy fell, rolled, and snarled like a beast. His body glowed with sickly red veins. His skin shimmered gold one moment, black the next.
"Fight it!" Jino shouted.
Kael roared.
He lunged again—and this time, Jino let him hit.
The boy's palm slammed into the master's chest. A pulse of energy sent Jino skidding back against the shrine wall.
Silence.
Kael stood trembling, fists clenched. Breath heavy.
And then—
a tear.
One single tear rolled down his cheek.
He fell to his knees.
"I'm sorry... I couldn't stop it... I tried... I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone."
Jino exhaled and slowly approached.
He knelt beside Kael.
"You are not evil, Kael. You are unfinished."
The boy looked up, pain in every line of his face.
"Will I always be a monster?"
"No," Jino whispered. "You will be a king."
Meanwhile: The Fortress of Gharoth
Lord Malvorn stood before the flame basin, his long dark robes brushing against the black stone. The room smelled of ash and rot.
He held a vial of blood.
Ardyn's blood.
Ten years ago, he had spilled it into the dirt and thought the story ended there. But now... the Seers had spoken.
The heir lives.
And worse.
The Lumen Core has begun to awaken again.
"Summon the Reapers," Malvorn said. "And send word to the Watchers of the Veil. We begin the Hunt."
A shadow behind him stirred.
"And the boy?"
Malvorn smiled. A thin, cruel line.
"We break him. Then we bleed him."
Back at Mount Rythen
Kael lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling.
His chest still burned.
Jino had given him a vial of sunroot tea to calm the rage inside. But nothing truly helped.
He touched his fingers together and watched them spark. Even now, without calling it, the power obeyed.
He had struck Master Jino.
He had nearly killed him.
And the voice...
Who was she?
He turned to his side, closing his eyes. Tomorrow they would train again. Tomorrow they would pretend the night didn't happen.
But something had changed.
A presence. Far away.
Kael felt it—like a hunter breathing down his neck.
Something in the shadows was moving.
Watching.
Coming.