The first streaks of dawn filtered into the cavern, illuminating jagged rocks and the uneven floor. Leon sat against the cool stone, the pulsing glow of Sylara's heart beneath his chest casting fleeting shadows across the walls. Each beat was a reminder of the storm now coursing through his veins. His fingers flexed, instinctively feeling the surge of magic. Ice tingled along his palms, wind stirred the stray hairs at his temples, and lightning hissed faintly in the air around him.
He shivered. Not from cold. From the sheer weight of what had just happened. A dragon's heart. A storm's power. And yet—he still had to breathe, think, move. He had a sister to find.
"Ylira," he murmured, testing the name on his lips. It felt heavier here, somehow. His mind tugged at a fragment of memory—the manor on the hill, the tall wrought-iron gates, the scent of firewood and parchment. He could almost see her standing in the courtyard, hair flaming gold in the sun, arms crossed as she scolded some servant for spilling tea.
Then Sylara spoke, her voice a low hum that resonated in his mind like rolling thunder, yet somehow intimate and knowing. "Leon… I am Sylara. You may call me Sylara. For now, I am here to guide you, teach you, and ensure your survival."
Leon blinked, staring at the faint glow beneath his chest, trying to reconcile the impossible. "Sylara…" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Yes," she replied, each word vibrating in his very core. "I am part of you now. Every pulse of your blood, every surge of magic, carries me. I am your heart, your storm, your teacher—and your critic."
He hesitated. "Teacher… critic… right." He flexed his fingers again, feeling the electricity crackle, the wind stir in tiny currents around him. "I… I need to understand what I can do."
Sylara's laugh rumbled, low and amused. "Understand? My dear, I do not simply teach—you will learn by doing. But let me guide you first. The Dragon Heart fused with your body, granting you Storm Affinities: Ice, Wind, Water, Lightning. Each element flows through your veins, each pulse amplified by me. You are no longer just a swordsman. You are a Magic Swordsman, able to channel elemental force through your blade, your limbs, even your breath. But power alone is not enough. Control, timing, strategy—these are your true weapons."
Leon nodded slowly, letting the magnitude sink in. "Control… strategy…" His eyes flicked over the cavern walls. "So, I can summon wind to cut through barriers, ice to halt enemies, water to flow around them, and lightning… to strike true?"
Sylara hummed approvingly. "Yes. But remember, every ounce of magic you waste weakens you. Every distraction costs you. I will guide, but I will not fight for you. You must anticipate, react, and predict. You must become… the storm."
A shiver ran down his spine, not from fear but from awe. "The storm…" he murmured, flexing his fingers once more. A spark of lightning danced across his knuckles, fizzing in the air before dissipating.
"You are ready enough to leave this cave," Sylara's voice said. "But first, a warning: you are not alone. This forest… these lands… they are alive with creatures that would test your every ability. You must be vigilant."
Leon took a deep breath. The forest beyond the cavern mouth called to him, green shadows stretching like a living wall. He felt stronger, sharper, every sense heightened. He could hear the distant rush of a stream, smell the wet bark, the faint tang of copper in the soil. He stepped forward, testing the air, letting the magic flow through him.
Then came the rustle—a sound of claws against leaves, muscles coiling. Golden eyes flashed in the shadow.
A wolf. Larger than any he had seen in stories, eyes molten like amber, fangs glinting in the morning light. It crouched, muscles tense.
Leon's chest tightened. "Not this early…"
The wolf lunged. Leon's instincts snapped into action. He raised his hand, summoning wind in a spiraling vortex around him. Branches whipped back, leaves tore from the trees, the wolf skidded but didn't retreat. It adjusted, sliding through the air, jaws snapping.
Leon's heart pounded. Ice shards shot forward like jagged daggers. The wolf twisted midair, claws swiping at his sleeve. Sparks hissed from the friction.
Sylara's voice rang in his mind, urgent. "Do not underestimate it. It is not ordinary. Channel your storm carefully, but do not rely solely on magic. Fight with skill, anticipate its moves, do not react blindly!"
Leon's fists clenched. Water lashed like a whip, aiming for the wolf's legs. The creature twisted, dodging, flipping, landing gracefully. Steam hissed where water collided with fur, magic colliding with raw strength.
Wind and ice collided, lightning arced, sparks danced in the chaotic melee. Each strike answered the other. Trees groaned, roots trembled, the underbrush shredded. He could feel every muscle screaming, every breath labored—but he refused to yield.
With a roar, Leon spun, combining ice, wind, and lightning in a single strike. The wolf met him midair, teeth snapping, claws striking. Sparks, shards, magic, and fur exploded outward. They slammed into the earth, rolling, biting, scratching. Every move countered, every blow answered.
Leon's golden eyes blazed. "Why… is it so strong?!"
The wolf crouched for a final pounce, fangs aiming for his throat. Leon braced, muscles taut, magic ready—but before the beast could strike, a streak of blazing light tore through the air.
"LEON!"
A torrent of fire erupted from the shadows. The wolf screamed as it was enveloped in a pillar of searing flame, heat searing the earth, scorching moss and leaves. Within an instant, it collapsed, immobile, smoke curling from its fur.
Ylira stood at the edge of the clearing, eyes blazing, sword or staff glowing with residual fire magic. Her chest heaved, but her expression remained commanding.
Leon exhaled, relief flooding him. "You… came…"
"Do you even know how reckless you are?" Ylira snapped. "I should've left you for the wolves to finish! You're lucky I arrived in time!"
He swallowed, nodding. "I… I thought I could handle it."
Her hands clenched. "Thought? That's what got you almost killed. And you're late for Ashkarion Academy! I'm not dragging you again if you can't keep up. Do you understand?"
Leon forced a small nod. "I… understand. I'll follow your lead."
The forest began to thin, revealing the outline of rooftops behind a high stone wall. Smoke curled from chimneys, mixing with the crisp scent of pine and earth. The manor gates swayed gently in the breeze.
Sylara's storm pulsed beneath his skin, her voice calm but teasing. "Finally. A plan. Someone competent beside you. And now, you will learn control in the presence of your sister. She will push you, challenge you, and test your limits."
Leon glanced at Ylira. "Thank you… for everything. For saving me, guiding me."
She smirked, shaking her head. "Don't get sentimental. You'd better make it worth my trouble, brother. Ashkarion Academy won't wait for stragglers, and I won't babysit you forever."
Leon laughed softly, the sound blending with the morning breeze. For the first time, he felt capable, prepared to face both the academy and the storm that now pulsed through him.
A new life, a sister to protect, and a storm whispering promises of power yet to come.
Tomorrow, everything would truly begin.