The wasteland sun hung low, casting long shadows across the jagged rocks. Kael's arms ached, his chest burned, but he did not stop.
"Again," the wanderer commanded, her voice sharp, slicing through the silence.
Kael swung the wooden blade, sparks of silver light flaring briefly with each strike. Even the smallest movements of his sword carried remnants of the power within him, though uncontrolled. The mark on his chest pulsed faintly with each heartbeat.
"Focus!" the wanderer shouted. "Your strength is not in the power itself, Kael—it is in your control of it!"
Kael clenched his teeth, sweat streaking his face. "I know!" he snapped, though he knew it was far from enough.
The wanderer circled him like a hawk, analyzing his stance. "Power without discipline is chaos. Chaos kills. You almost destroyed yourself last night. You will not survive the next attack if you cannot master the flame within you."
Kael lowered his blade, his eyes narrowing. "Then teach me."
"Patience," she said, crouching to his level. "The first lesson is understanding your own limits. Feel the mark, Kael. Do not let it surge without consent. Let it answer you, not command you."
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The pulse beneath his skin thrummed, like a tiny drumbeat in the center of his chest. He concentrated, willing it to slow, to bend to his will.
A flicker of silver light danced across his fingertips. His eyes flew open in surprise. "I… I did it?"
The wanderer's lips curved into a faint smile. "You felt it, but you did not act. That restraint is the first step. Now, channel it."
Kael raised his wooden sword again. This time, instead of swinging blindly, he moved deliberately, each motion measured, each strike guided by intention. Light flickered along the blade, small but steady, not wild.
"Better," she nodded. "Control does not come all at once. It comes in increments. Each breath, each heartbeat, each swing of your blade is a step forward."
Hours passed. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and gold. Kael's body trembled with exhaustion, but his focus never wavered. The wanderer continued to push him, correcting stances, guiding his energy, teaching him to feel rather than fight the power inside him.
By the time night fell, the wasteland was quiet again. Kael sat cross-legged, breathing heavily, the wooden sword resting across his knees. The mark on his chest pulsed softly, no longer an uncontrollable fire but a gentle, steady rhythm.
"You're learning," the wanderer said quietly, almost to herself. "Faster than I anticipated."
Kael looked up, his chest heaving, eyes wide. "Do you really think I can master it?"
The wanderer studied him for a long moment. "I do not think, Kael. I know. But it will take more than willpower. It will take heart. Discipline. And… sacrifice."
Kael swallowed. "Sacrifice?"
She nodded, her gaze distant. "Power always demands a price. One day, you will understand. One day, you may have to give more than you are ready to give. But for now, you have taken the first step. Control your power, and you control your destiny. Lose control, and destiny controls you."
Kael clenched his fists, a mixture of fear and determination burning in his young heart. "I won't fail."
The wanderer's eyes softened. "Good. Because the Shadow Legion will not wait. They are coming. And when they arrive, you must be ready."
Kael looked to the horizon, the fading sun casting long shadows across the wasteland. The weight of what lay ahead pressed on him, but for the first time, he felt a spark of confidence amidst the fear.
He was not yet the master of the flame, but he would be.
And one day, the world would tremble at the child who carried the cursed star.