Chapter 2 – The Night of Fire
The ceiling split open.
A storm of magic poured through it — searing white and molten gold.
Kale shielded his eyes as heat rushed down the stairs. His father threw a protection glyph onto the wall; the barrier flared blue, barely holding against the impact.
Through the smoke, the witch hovered — her cloak alive with ember-like threads, eyes glowing like twin suns. Her feet never touched the ground.
> "Fifteen years," she murmured. "You thought you could hide the cursed one from us forever?"
Dr. Dane stepped forward, placing himself between Kale and the witch. "He's just a boy."
The witch's lips curved. "No. He's a mistake."
She raised her hand, and a circle of ancient runes spun into existence — jagged, bright, and lethal.
Kale felt it before it happened — the pull, the pressure, the way his mana reacted to hers like metal drawn to a magnet. The device on his wrist vibrated violently, a warning beep cutting through the chaos.
"Dad!"
"I know!" Dr. Dane yelled. "The suppressor can't hold against this level of interference!"
The witch smiled cruelly. "Then let it break."
She thrust her hand forward — a spear of light tearing through the air. It hit the barrier, and for a second, Kale thought it might hold. Then the glyph cracked.
The explosion hurled him backward. He hit the ground hard, dust choking his throat.
Through the blur, he saw his father still standing — one arm burned, blood running down his face — and his mother now behind him, her own spell forming in her trembling hands.
"Run, Kale!" she shouted. "Run now!"
"I can fight—"
"No!" His father's voice broke. "You can't! They'll sense your mana if you use it!"
Another blast tore through the ceiling. The air itself howled. The witch descended fully into the basement now, her cloak trailing smoke.
"You hid the child well, Alaric Dane. But the Council always finds what belongs to it."
Dr. Dane's eyes blazed with defiance. "He belongs to no one."
He slammed his palm on the console. A hidden compartment in the floor slid open — inside, a metallic sphere pulsed faintly.
Kale recognized it. The stabilizer. Version four.
His father grabbed Kale by the shoulders. "Listen to me, son. You'll take this and go to the underground tunnels. You'll find Elric— he'll protect you. He knows what to do."
Kale shook his head, voice cracking. "I'm not leaving you!"
"You have to!" His father's hand tightened around Kale's wrist. "If they capture you, everything we've sacrificed means nothing. You understand?"
Behind them, the witch raised her staff. "Enough!"
A circle of flame erupted beneath her feet, twisting into serpents of fire. His mother stepped forward, throwing her own spell — a shimmering wall of water that hissed against the flames.
She looked back at Kale one last time.
Her eyes were soft, full of love and unspoken goodbyes.
"You were born for more than this, Kale," she whispered. "Live… and remember us."
Then the witch's fire engulfed her.
The scream tore through Kale's world. He lunged forward, but his father caught him, dragging him toward the escape hatch. The stabilizer orb in Kale's hands vibrated, its glow syncing with the desperate pounding of his heart.
"Go!" Dr. Dane shouted.
The witch turned, fury twisting her face. "You'll die for this, wizard!"
Dr. Dane smiled faintly. "I already have."
He hit a final switch. The workshop imploded with light.
The force threw Kale through the hatch before it sealed shut behind him. He tumbled down a narrow metal shaft, the world spinning, deafened by the sound of collapsing steel and fire.
When he landed, the air was cold and wet. He coughed, forcing himself to his feet. The tunnel stretched ahead — dark, endless.
The stabilizer orb glowed faintly in his hands.
He turned back — but where the hatch had been, there was only rubble and silence.
Kale's breath hitched. For a long moment, he just stood there, trembling, waiting to hear his parents' voices again.
Nothing.
Only the distant rumble of thunder.
The world he knew was gone.
And in that emptiness, something deep inside him shifted. The suppressor on his wrist sparked once, then went dark completely. The mana he'd been forced to bury for fifteen years rose like a tide, crashing against the edges of his control.
His blue eyes began to glow faintly in the dark.
He whispered to the silence, voice hoarse and broken:
"I'll find them. Every witch. Every one of you. I swear it."
The stabilizer hummed softly in his palm — like an answer, or perhaps, a beginning.