Kaelen awoke to the sound of rain hissing on hot stone, the world outside his window a swirl of mist and red dawn. The city of Veylaris sprawled beneath him, all emerald towers and winding bridges, veins of molten rock glowing in the deep. He pressed his palm against the glass, feeling the faint pulse of magic in the air—a rhythm out of step with his own heart.
Every morning, he waited for the ache in his chest to fade. It never did. Something was missing—something vital, like a word on the tip of his tongue or a dream that vanished before waking. He shivered, though the room was warm, and drew his knees up to his chest. Flames danced on the hearth, struggling to choose between blue and gold, never quite settling.
A knock at the door. "Kaelen!" It was Ryn, his only friend in this city of stone. Ryn's voice rumbled, steady as bedrock. "You'll be late for the morning shift. The wardens are restless."
Kaelen sighed, tugged on his boots, and belted his worn cloak. He caught his reflection in the warped glass: dark hair streaked with ash-blond, eyes that shimmered between gold and sea-glass green. The mark on his wrist—a twisting pattern of fire and water—throbbed with each heartbeat. He hid it beneath his sleeve and opened the door.
Ryn grinned, broad-shouldered and earthy, a Terrakin of few words and fewer doubts. Today, he eyed Kaelen with concern. "You dream again?"
Kaelen hesitated. Lately, the dreams had grown stranger—flashes of a girl's laughter, tides crashing under a midnight sky, a staff entwined with living vines. Sometimes, he awoke with the taste of salt or the sting of tears that weren't his own.
"Yeah," Kaelen admitted. "But it's nothing. Just the rain."
Ryn grunted but didn't push. Together, they stepped into the morning, the city humming with distant song. Kaelen felt the water's pull beneath the stones, the heat of unseen fire. He reached out, almost unconsciously, and a thread of steam curled from his fingertips, vanishing before Ryn could notice.
As they made their way toward the lower forges, Kaelen's thoughts drifted. He remembered the old stories—the Pillar Birds, the Wells of Power, the days when magic ran wild and nothing was impossible. Sometimes, in the hush before sleep, he wondered if those stories were meant for someone else.
But today, just as they crossed the bridge to the forges, Kaelen's vision blurred. The city faded. For a heartbeat, he stood beneath a sky filled with fractured stars, a vast ocean lapping at molten shores. And there—a figure at the edge of the world, hair drifting like kelp in a current, eyes shining with hope and sorrow.
Kaelen reached out, and the vision shattered. He stumbled, caught himself on the rail, heart pounding. Ryn turned, alarmed.
"You all right?"
Kaelen forced a laugh. "Just slipped."
But as he followed Ryn into the forge's heat, Kaelen knew: the hole inside him had shifted, just a little, as if someone far away had reached back across the darkness, and for a moment, he had almost remembered what it was to be whole.