The storm had not ended with the night. It lingered, rumbling in the marrow of the world as though the heavens themselves were deciding whether to destroy or spare the shattered city of Lumerra. Erynd stood at the edge of the crumbled tower, his chest still pulsing faintly with the fiery sigil that had branded itself upon his skin.
He didn't remember when it first appeared. Only that one moment he was gasping for air as the monstrous Wraith-Beast descended upon the district, and the next… light. A burning, unrelenting flame that tore through the creature's skull as though the will of the world had been funneled into his body.
But that power—
It wasn't his.
The elders whispered of the Primordial Heart, the core left behind when the first gods tore open the heavens and created mortals. The Heart was said to grant its heir an endless well of energy, a force capable of rewriting fate itself.
And somehow… it chose him.
---
Erynd staggered down the ruins, his body trembling with exhaustion. Around him, the survivors were picking through rubble. Cries for the lost rang through the smoke. Soldiers from the city guard moved like shadows, too broken themselves to bring order.
"Erynd!"
The familiar voice cut through the noise. He turned to see Kaelen, his oldest friend, sprinting through the haze. Unlike Erynd's lean frame, Kaelen was broad-shouldered and carried a pair of battered steel gauntlets that glowed faintly with rune-etchings. He was bloodied, but alive.
"You're—" Kaelen stopped short, eyes narrowing at the faint glow radiating from Erynd's chest. "...What did you do?"
"I… I don't know." Erynd's voice shook. "The monster—it was about to end everything. Then this mark—it lit up on me. And the beast—"
Kaelen's jaw tightened. He grabbed Erynd by the shoulders, lowering his voice. "Listen carefully. If the wrong people see that, you'll be hunted. Do you understand? That's not just power. That's the Heart."
Erynd froze.
Kaelen leaned closer. "And people kill for it."
---
By dawn, the survivors had gathered what remained of their lives and abandoned the broken district. The city was still intact, but its spirit was fractured.
The Council of Lumerra declared a curfew. Patrols doubled. Whispers of "Primordial magic" spread like fire in dry grass. Erynd felt eyes follow him more than usual. Not accusing—just wary.
But then came the dreams.
That night, he dreamed of a black ocean where stars sank instead of shone. In the center stood a colossal figure—a giant formed of bone and fire, its chest torn open where a molten heart should be.
"You are mine," it said, its voice deeper than thunder. "Or I am yours. We shall see which end comes first."
Erynd woke drenched in sweat, clutching his chest. The sigil burned faintly under his shirt, as if mocking him.
---
Days later, Kaelen wasn't the only one who noticed.
In the training yards, Seris—a sharp-eyed, quick-moving fighter from the east—confronted him. She was the kind who never wasted words, but her instincts were rarely wrong.
"You're changing," she told him flatly, wiping her blade clean after practice. "Your movements… they're faster. Stronger. That's not training. That's something else."
Erynd wanted to deny it, but the truth clung to him like a second skin. The Heart's power was seeping into everything he did. Every strike he made. Every breath he took.
And then… came the summons.
---
The Grand Hall of Lumerra was built from the bones of a Titan long dead, its massive ribs forming archways that made even kings seem small. Erynd stood at its center, surrounded by armored knights and watchful mages. At the far end sat the Council of Seven, cloaked in authority and age.
"Erynd Kael," the eldest councilor intoned, his voice echoing against the ribbed ceiling. "You have been seen. The mark upon your chest is not hidden. The Heart has chosen you."
Gasps rippled through the assembly.
Erynd clenched his fists. "I never asked for this."
"Few heirs ever do," another councilor replied coldly. "But choice is irrelevant. The Heart exists to be used—or destroyed. You will be tested. And if you fail…"
The silence that followed was heavier than steel.
Kaelen stepped forward, fury flashing in his eyes. "He's not your weapon!"
But Erynd… he wasn't sure Kaelen was right.
Because deep down, in the marrow of his bones, the Heart whispered with a hunger he couldn't deny.
---
That night, Erynd gathered his closest allies in the abandoned library beneath the city walls. Kaelen was there, ever loyal. Seris came too, curiosity sharpening her every word.
They were soon joined by others—
Aelira, a wandering healer with the gift of foresight, her eyes shimmering with fragments of possible futures.
Doran, a quiet blacksmith who wielded a hammer infused with stormlight.
Lyss, a rogue from the shadows, sharp-tongued and quicker with a blade than most with words.
And Veyra, a scholar of forbidden lore who seemed to know more about the Heart than she should.
Seven in total. Bound not by blood, but by trust.
Erynd looked at them, his heart heavy. "The Council won't stop until they control me. The beasts won't stop hunting until they tear me apart. And the Heart itself…" He trailed off, touching his chest where it burned faintly. "I don't even know if it's protecting me or consuming me."
Kaelen placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we fight together. No matter what."
The others nodded, each in their own way.
For the first time since that night, Erynd felt something other than fear.
Hope.
But as the shadows deepened around them, none noticed the figure watching from the cracked window above—eyes glowing like dying embers.