Kael knelt, the hard stone floor of the workshop biting into his palms. The pain was a dull ache he had long since learned to ignore. His left leg, a dead weight below the knee, was braced against the workbench. The cold metal of the brace bit into his skin with every slight shift of his weight. Sweat dripped from his brow, blurring his vision as he focused on the small, smooth river stone clutched in his hand. It was an ordinary stone, cold and lifeless. He needed it to be warm.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the frantic hammering from the other side of the workshop door. The Guild. They were here, a tide of silver robed oppression finally crashing against their small, defiant shore.
"Kael! Hurry!" His father's voice was a strained, taut wire, barely audible over the splintering sounds of the door taking a beating. "We're almost out of time!"
His father's panic was a resonant hum of its own, an anxious energy that made the air feel thick and heavy. But Kael pushed it away, a barrier of practiced calm shielding his thoughts. He needed to find a different resonance. He focused on a memory: a summer afternoon, the sun on his face, the warmth sinking into his skin as he lay in a field of golden grass. The memory was sharp, vivid. He tried to pull that feeling, that distant heat, into the river stone.
The stone remained cold.
He could feel the frustration building, a tight knot in his stomach. He was always too slow. Too weak. A sudden, violent crash echoed through the workshop as the main door buckled inward. Splinters of ancient wood flew across the room like shrapnel.
It has to work. This was their last hope, a desperate gamble based on a theoretical application of Resonance magic he had pieced together in secret.
He cast his gaze around the room, desperate, searching for a tangible source of heat. His eyes landed on a half-completed kinetic coil on the workbench. It was radiating a faint, residual warmth from the forging process, a steady, low-grade hum of energy. He slammed the river stone against the coil. A faint, low hum resonated between the two objects.
"Found it," Kael whispered, a breath of pure relief escaping his lips.
He poured all his will into the stone, drawing the warmth from the coil, feeding it, amplifying it. The stone began to glow a dull red, its surface heating rapidly. The air around it shimmered with rising heat. The hammering on the door stopped abruptly. Instead, a voice, cold and sharp as chipped obsidian, sliced through the sudden silence.
"Kael Varden and his family. You are in violation of the Third Edict of Magical Conduct. Your unsanctioned magical artifacts are to be seized, and you are to submit yourselves for trial. Open the door, and your sentence may be lenient."
Kael didn't hesitate. He held the now-glowing stone aloft and focused on a single point of light in the ceiling—a crack where a ray of sun, a beacon from the world outside, pierced through. The point of light seemed to shimmer, to grow. It wasn't a window; it was a distant memory of a window, a window in the old family study. He pushed his will into it, and the shimmering point began to expand, forming a swirling vortex of light. This was a teleportation portal, an unstable, untested theory. It was also the only way out.
"Kael!" His father's scream was a high, panicked note cut short by a final, catastrophic splintering of the workshop door. A stern-faced mage in a silver robe stood in the doorway, a glowing sigil of binding on his outstretched palm. The mage's eyes, cold as winter ice, fell on the vortex.
Kael threw the now-blazing stone into the vortex. The portal flared to life, a blinding flash of light and raw energy. The mage reacted instantly, throwing his hand forward to cast his spell, but it was too late. The glowing sigil on his palm fizzled, unable to connect with Kael before the portal fully engulfed him. Kael stumbled, his balance failing him as he pushed himself with all his might into the vortex.
He felt a nauseating lurch, a sensation of being pulled apart and put back together again, molecule by molecule. It was like falling and flying all at once, a dizzying, disorienting rush of raw power. Then, all was darkness. The silence was absolute, a profound void broken only by the echo of his own heartbeat.
When he opened his eyes, he was on hard ground. Not the smooth, worn stone of his workshop, but a rocky, uneven surface. The air was cold, with a strange, metallic tang that stung his nostrils. He pushed himself up, his muscles protesting the sudden exertion. His left leg ached with a familiar, deep throb. He looked up. Above him, a moon, but not the one he knew. This one was broken, its fractured pieces suspended in the night sky like jagged shards of glass, each piece glowing with an eerie, cerulean light. A low, guttural roar echoed from the darkness beyond the treeline.
Kael was alone. And he was very, very far from home.
He stumbled to his feet, his mind reeling. The air was thick with the scent of pine and something else—a sweet, cloying aroma he couldn't place. He took a staggering step forward, his weight shifting to his good leg, and immediately his bad leg gave out from under him. He hit the ground with a grunt, the metal brace digging into the earth. The fall sent a jolt of pain up his spine, but he ignored it. He had to think.
The familiar sights and sounds of his world were gone. The cobblestone streets of his city, the distant clang of the smith's hammer, the low murmur of the river—all replaced by this alien landscape. The sky, with its shattered moon, was the most unnerving. It looked like a cosmic accident, a silent explosion frozen in time. The light it cast was strange, painting the forest in hues of deep blue and silver.
He had to get his bearings. Kael pushed himself up again, this time more carefully. He scanned the immediate area. He was in a small clearing, surrounded by a dense forest of towering, dark-leaved trees. The ground was littered with rocks and strange, glowing moss that pulsed with a soft, green light. The teleportation device—the glowing river stone—was nowhere to be found. He had thrown it, a desperate cast, and it was likely gone forever.
He was truly stranded.
That's when he heard it again. The roar. This time, it was closer. It was a sound of immense power, of predatory hunger. The trees in the distance rustled, a massive shape moving through them. Kael's heart hammered against his ribs. He couldn't run. Not with his leg. He was a sitting duck. He needed to think, to find a way to resonate with this new world, to find a source of power he could use.
His hands, however, were shaking. The cold reality of his situation was starting to sink in. He wasn't just displaced; he was hunted. He wasn't just alone; he was helpless. The years of being coddled by his family, of being told to stay safe while others fought, came flooding back. They had been right. He wasn't a fighter. He was an inventor, a theorist. His mind was his strength, but what good was a clever mind against a physical threat he couldn't outrun?
A low, growling sound, like stones grinding against each other, emanated from the treeline. A pair of eyes, luminous and red, pierced through the gloom. The shape was massive, its outline blocked by the trees, but Kael could make out a hulking form with a long, sweeping tail. It was unlike any beast he had ever heard of.
Kael stumbled backward, his back hitting a cold, unyielding surface. A rock. A large boulder covered in the glowing moss. He pressed his palms against it, the light from the moss illuminating his hands. The moss felt strange, a living, pulsating thing. It wasn't warm, not in the way he understood heat, but it had a different kind of energy. A faint, low thrum, like a distant heartbeat.
It was a resonance. A new one.
Desperation sharpened his focus. He had to try. He closed his eyes, pushing aside the fear, the shame, and the cold dread. He focused on the thrumming energy of the moss, trying to understand it, to connect with it. He didn't know what it did, what power it held, but he knew he couldn't stand there and wait. He drew on the memory of his workshop, of the tools he had built, of the theories he had spent his life developing. He focused on the principle of connection, of sympathetic resonance.
He felt the energy of the moss flow into him, a cool, invigorating sensation that traveled up his arms and into his chest. It wasn't a familiar magic, but it was magic nonetheless. The monster in the trees took another step forward, a heavy footfall that shook the ground. The red eyes were closer now, predatory and intelligent. Kael could see the long, jagged teeth, the slick black scales.
He opened his eyes and pushed the energy from the moss out, not as a spell, but as a plea. He didn't know what would happen. He just knew he had to act. A wave of light, a pulse of pure, green energy, surged from his palms and struck the ground at his feet. The moss on the boulder glowed brighter, and the ground around him began to tremble.
The monster roared, a sound of frustration and rage, and lunged. But it was too late. The ground beneath Kael's feet gave way with a thunderous roar. The entire rock face on which he stood collapsed, sending him tumbling into a chasm of darkness. The last thing he saw before the world went black was the shattered moon above and the glint of rage in the monster's eyes.
He had escaped, but where had he gone? And what new terrors awaited him in the dark?