Chapter 8: Shadows of the Kane Legacy
Mason Kane moved through the vast training hall, muscles taut and every sense alert. Sixteen years old, years of relentless conditioning had left him strong but hollow, a boy forged in shadows, yet without a spark to call his own. Sweat dripped down his face as he mirrored the movements of his siblings. Crystal appeared beside him in a flash, teleporting with perfect precision, her eyes calm and controlled, a silent anchor in the chaos.
"Keep up, slowpoke," she teased lightly, her hand brushing his arm. Mason managed a weak grin.
Arc crackled with electricity, dark hair whipping across his forehead as his lightning arced across the hall, illuminating Mason's tense expression. "Focus, Mason. Or you'll end up as a singed statue," he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. His movements were wild but measured, a challenge without cruelty.
Mason swallowed hard. He had trained beside them for years, learned to anticipate and adapt, yet no matter how precise his timing, his father's shadow loomed heavier than any lightning or teleport.
Richard Kane stood on the balcony, a black figure against the cold light of the windows. His piercing gaze scanned Mason, calm, calculating, unyielding. Mason's chest tightened, but he kept his movements precise.
"You hesitate too much," Richard said quietly. "Every hesitation is a lesson wasted."
Mason clenched his fists, forcing himself not to flinch. Years of training had taught him to endure, but the weight of expectation never lessened. It sharpened.
Crystal teleported again beside him, whispering, "Breathe, Mason. You can do this." Her voice carried authority without judgment, a reminder he was not alone.
Arc's sparks grew brighter, dangerous, but he pulled back, letting Mason adjust. "You're slow, but you'll get there. Don't give up now," he said, a teasing grin on his face.
Together, they pushed Mason to his limits. Crystal blinked in precise arcs, forcing him to react faster than instinct would allow. Arc's lightning cut the air, demanding spatial awareness and timing. Mason fell. He rose. He fell again. His body burned, lungs screaming for oxygen.
Richard descended from the balcony, boots silent on the polished floor. His eyes remained cold and precise as he observed Mason. "Observation is not enough. Anticipate. Adapt. Endure," he said, voice neutral, factual.
Mason's jaw tightened. He wanted to beg or argue, but he had learned long ago that survival mattered more than words.
Crystal landed beside him again, smirking lightly. "You're sweating enough for three of us, slowpoke. Don't die yet," she joked softly, nudging him.
Arc chuckled, sparks flickering around his fingers. "Hey, Mason, don't worry. At least you make this fun for me. Lightning practice is boring without someone to dodge."
Mason laughed quietly despite himself, muscles trembling from exhaustion. The teasing warmth of his siblings grounded him, softened the relentless pressure of the hall.
By the time the session ended, Mason collapsed onto the mats, drenched in sweat, muscles trembling. Crystal sat beside him, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Not bad for a human," she teased gently.
Arc leaned down, his electricity dimmed to a faint glow, eyes softening. "You're getting stronger. Keep moving forward."
Richard remained at the edge of the hall, his expression unreadable. "You endured. That is sufficient for now," he said, voice calm and measured, neither praise nor scolding.
Mason stared at him, the familiar knot of fear and longing twisting in his chest. He wanted approval, and in his own quiet way, he felt it in the acknowledgment.
Later, Mason sat in the quiet hall, limbs aching, body bruised but alive. Crystal nudged him with a shoulder. "Come on, we're not letting you nap on us yet," she said, smirking.
Arc chuckled, sitting beside him. "Yeah, slowpoke, you need to catch up to the rest of us."
Mason exhaled, letting a small smile form. He felt the weight of expectation but also the warmth of his siblings beside him. He was not alone.
The storm outside mirrored the tension within the hall, relentless, shaping those who would bear the Kane name. Mason's body ached, his mind burned, but beneath the weight of training and his father's strict gaze, he felt a stubborn seed of resilience growing.
And in the cold watch of Richard Kane, that seed would be tested again tomorrow.