The quiet after Lyra's tests didn't last. Kaelen's hand still tingled from the light crystal's burn, a constant reminder of the violent energy inside him. He tried to return to his routine— meals, walks, the garden—but a new tension hung in the Citadel's air. People watched him with a different kind of interest. The story of the Venom Maw on the wall had spread, twisted and exaggerated with each telling. He was no longer just the strange orphan with a curse. He was becoming a symbol.
He felt it most during his mandatory training sessions with the other new Awakened. They were a group of a dozen, all who had been Claimed in the last few months. Most were from the city, their powers weaker, their Curses milder. They huddled together, casting nervous glances his way. Their instructor, a stern B-Rank woman named Anya, had them practice forming basic energy shields.
Kaelen's shield, a disc of swirling darkness, was larger and far more solid than the faint, shimmering barriers the others made. When it was his turn to defend against a training projectile, the energy bolt hit his shield and dissolved into nothing without a sound. The others' shields shuddered and sparked on impact.
Anya gave a curt nod. "Adequate control, Initiate Kaelen." But her eyes were thoughtful, calculating.
During a break, a boy with the ability to make small sparks—a weak Reaver aspect—approached him. "Is it true?" the boy whispered, his eyes wide. "They say you fought a D-Rank beast alone. That you saved a whole squad on the wall."
Kaelen shook his head. "I had help. It wasn't like that."
But the boy wasn't listening. The myth was already more powerful than the truth. "They call you the 'Shadow of Havenfall'," the boy said before scurrying back to his friends.
The name felt like a weight. He hadn't asked for it. He didn't want it.
The attention wasn't all admiration. He felt the jealousy, too. The resentment. A few of the older initiates, ones who had been E-Rank for a year or more, watched him with cold eyes. He was moving too fast. Stealing their glory. Their whispers followed him.
"Lucky," one muttered as Kaelen walked past. "The Commander's favorite pet,"another scoffed. "Probably just a monster-magnet.Draws them in for us to clean up."
Their words were like small knives. The Anchor wasn't just pulling monsters; it was pulling envy and anger from the people around him. He was an outsider, and now he was a rising star. It was a dangerous combination.
That afternoon, he found Elara in her workshop. She was painting a delicate design on a ceramic pot. She looked up as he entered, her kind eyes seeing his troubled expression immediately.
"The walls are talking," she said softly. "They say you are a hero."
Kaelen slumped onto a stool. "I'm not. They don't understand. They're making up a story."
"People need stories," Elara said, setting down her brush. "Especially in the dark. They need something to believe in. You are new. You are powerful. You survived the wilds. You are a very good story."
"It doesn't feel like a good story," he replied, looking at his hands. "It feels like a target."
"It is both," she said simply. "A crown of light always casts a dark shadow. You must decide what to do with the crown they are trying to give you. Will you wear it? Will you throw it away? Or will you let its weight crush you?"
Her words were like the stone she had given him—smooth, solid, and true. He couldn't control the stories people told. He could only control his own actions.
The final test came later that day. Anya gathered the initiates. "Pair up. Sparring. Practice your shields and a single offensive maneuver. Control your power. The goal is to tap your partner's shoulder, not to injure."
Kaelen was paired with one of the older, resentful initiates—a broad-shouldered young man named Corin, whose Aspect allowed him to harden his skin like stone. Corin smirked, cracking his knuckles.
"Let's see what the 'Shadow' can do against real defense," he taunted quietly.
The match began. Corin charged, his skin taking on a grey, rough texture. He was slow but sturdy. Kaelen easily sidestepped, his E-Rank agility making Corin look clumsy. He formed a small, blunt shard of darkness and tapped it against Corin's shoulder.
"Point," Anya called.
Corin's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "He didn't break my defense! That was no real attack!"
"The objective was achieved," Anya said, her voice cool.
"Again!" Corin demanded, his eyes flashing with anger.
This time, when Kaelen moved to tap his shoulder, Corin ignored the rules. He didn't try to block the tap. Instead, he threw a heavy, stone-hard fist straight at Kaelen's face.
It was a cheap shot, meant to hurt.
Time seemed to slow. Kaelen's instincts screamed. The Umbral energy, always close to the surface, reacted to the threat. It surged up, not as a tool, but as a weapon. A sharp, jagged spike of darkness shot from his hand, aimed directly at Corin's chest.
At the last second, Kaelen saw the shock and fear in Corin's eyes. He wrenched his will back, pulling on the energy with everything he had.
The black spike stopped an inch from Corin's heart. It trembled in the air, a deadly promise of what could have been, before dissolving into smoke.
The training room was utterly silent.
Corin stumbled back, pale and breathing heavily, all his arrogance gone.
Anya stared at Kaelen, her expression unreadable. "The match is over," she said, her voice tight. "Initiate Kaelen, control. Initiate Corin, report to the disciplinary office. Now."
As Corin slunk away, the other initiates looked at Kaelen not with awe, but with fear. They had seen the monster lurking under the surface. The stories were true, and they were terrifying.
Kaelen stood alone, his own hands shaking. The crown they had given him was made of thorns. He had almost let the weight of it make him a killer. He understood now. The greatest threat wasn't the jealousy of others.
It was the darkness inside himself, waiting for an excuse to break free.