Training resumed, this time under red-sun lights and magic wards.
Kael hated it.
He felt sick, heavy, clumsy. Until Zatanna added a second pulse—letting in minimal solar energy, just enough for a spark.
Nightwing tossed him a wooden staff. "Channel it. Focus it."
Kael concentrated. His body responded. Energy gathered in his palms—not heat vision. Not magic.
Ki.
He blasted a drone mid-air with a controlled strike. It spun, crashed, and hissed.
Artemis let out a low whistle. "Okay. That was cool."
Kael exhaled. Calm. For now.