The wasteland sun had barely risen, painting the jagged rocks in hues of gold and crimson. Kael knelt on the cracked earth, the broken wooden sword laid carefully beside him. His chest ached, but it was a familiar pain now — the burn of progress, of learning.
"Concentrate," the wanderer said, her voice steady, slicing through the cold morning air. She had her sword drawn, watching him with hawk-like attention. "Feel the mark, Kael. Don't just control it — understand it."
Kael closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The pulse beneath his skin throbbed, faint yet insistent. It was no longer wild, no longer demanding. Instead, it whispered to him, waiting for recognition.
He focused, calling the light from within, but this time not outward. He imagined it folding, condensing, moving through him as a river through a narrow channel. Slowly, deliberately, he guided it into his hands.
A soft glow shimmered across his fingertips. Then, as he exhaled, the light stretched forward, forming shapes in the air. Not wild sparks, but delicate threads of silver, like ribbons dancing in the wind.
Kael's eyes flew open. "I… I did it!"
The wanderer stepped closer, awe and caution in her eyes. "Yes. You're shaping it. You're creating with it, not just releasing it. That is a level of control most do not reach for years."
Kael's chest swelled, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Can I… use it to fight? Not just push them away, but… strike?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes. But each attack requires focus, intent. Power without purpose is chaos. And chaos can consume you."
Kael clenched his fists, feeling the light pulse stronger. He raised his hands, shaping a thin spear of silver energy in the air. With a sharp thrust, it shot forward, striking a nearby rock. The impact left a precise line etched into stone, no explosion, no uncontrolled blast — just a perfect, clean mark.
The wanderer's eyes widened. "Remarkable. You're learning to wield your power as an extension of yourself, not just a force of destruction. That is rare, Kael. Very rare."
Kael bent closer, examining the glowing spear in his hands. "I never thought it could feel… like this. Like it's part of me, not against me."
She knelt beside him, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. "That is the first lesson every star-born child must learn. Power is not something you fight — it is something you embrace, direct, and refine."
Hours passed. Kael practiced tirelessly, shaping the silver light into blades, spears, and shields. Each attempt was precise, each movement deliberate. Sweat streaked his face, and his muscles burned, but for the first time, fear was absent. Only purpose remained.
As the sun began to dip behind the jagged cliffs, Kael lifted his hands, forming a simple glowing circle that hovered steadily in the air. The mark on his chest pulsed in harmony with the light. He felt a connection, a thread linking him to the power he had once feared.
The wanderer studied him quietly. "Tomorrow, we will push further. The Shadow Legion will not wait forever, and you must be ready for them. But tonight… rest. You have taken another step toward mastery."
Kael lowered his hands, the glow fading slowly. His arms shook, but he smiled, a rare warmth in his young eyes. "I feel… stronger. Not just in power, but in myself."
The wanderer's lips curved into a faint smile. "Good. You will need that strength. The Legion will come, and when they do, you must not falter. Not even for a moment."
Kael nodded, determination blazing brighter than the setting sun. He had learned to control the flame within him, but he also understood that the journey was just beginning. The cursed star child was no longer just surviving — he was preparing to face the storm that would come.
And this time, he would meet it head-on.