Kaelen moved cautiously over the jagged rocks of the Shattered Marches. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins from their first clash. His muscles ached as if they had been burned by fire. The wind whipped across his face, bringing dust, the tang of blood, and the distant wails of unknown creatures.
But the danger was not over. He realized that now. The pursuers, the creatures or possibly bandits corrupted by dark magic, still hunted him. Kaelen's uncontrolled outburst had been spectacular, possibly lethal, but he had not learned to control it. All recollections of the outburst, the sparks of fire, the trembling earth, only made his chest tighten with a combination of pride and trepidation.
I barely managed to contain it. What if it happens again?
He concentrated on his inner self. The ground shook under his feet, pebbles jumping slightly before falling back into place. His breathing was irregular and labored. The hybrid energy inside him began to stir, like an animal locked in a cage, struggling to escape.
A scream came from behind the ridge, and Kaelen's heart skipped a beat. One of the villagers, a young boy no older than himself, was being chased by a dark figure whose claws reflected strangely in the fading light. Kaelen felt instinct, pure and unadulterated, flood through him.
The air began to distort around his hands. His muscles tensed, and power coursed through him, exceeding what was normal. Sparks danced along his arms, mingling with his fear and anxiety. Before he could even think, he reacted.
The ground shook beneath his feet as a burst of energy shot out of his chest, sending the dark figure flying back. Rocks and dirt kicked up in all directions. The boy's scream pierced the air, but he was still untouched. Kaelen's world was spinning. Sweat stung his eyes. A sick feeling churned in his stomach. His heart was pounding in his chest. It was going to explode out of his chest.
What did I just do?
The dark figure was back on its feet, its eyes blazing with an unearthly light. Kaelen felt the figure's mind reaching into his brain. A crackling of psychic invasion brushed against his mind. Kaelen's head was pounding. Images of fire, ice, and something else danced in his brain. A wave of dizziness washed over him.
He tried to clear his head, to think, but the hybrid energy was a jumbled mess. Fire danced along his arms. Muscles bulged. Reflexes kicked in. All his senses were heightened to a razor's edge... or overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the power coursing through his body. Every sensation was amplified. Every thought was racing. Every heartbeat was thundering in his ears like war drums in the distance.
With shaking hands, Kaelen tried to control the energy, but he was not yet skilled enough to do so. The elemental burst, the physical rush, the psychic shudder—all of these combined in unpredictable ways. Sparks flew, winds roared, and a distorted reality shimmered at the edges of the rocks and the sand.
And then he struck out. The hybrid energy burst forth once more, this time more powerful than the first, born of instinct, fear, and desperation. The creature stumbled, faltered, and then fled into the dark shadows of the sand dunes, leaving Kaelen gasping, trembling, and perspiring with sweat.
Kaelen collapsed onto the sand, every muscle screaming in agony, every nerve throbbing with pain. His chest heaved with ragged breathing, his eyes spinning with heat and color. The boy he had saved approached him slowly, carefully, with wide, frightened eyes and an equally frightened silence. Kaelen's hands glowed with a faint, lingering energy.
The realization of the power he possessed struck him with the force of a mallet.
I didn't just hurt it... I could have killed it... I could have destroyed everything around me.
And yet he had survived. He had won. But that small, hollow triumph weighed heavily on him.
From the ridge, he saw the faintest movement of another, someone else watching him from a distance, someone stronger, either a hunter or a competitor, perhaps even a Shardborn like himself. But he did not know for certain. All he knew was that the world was now larger, darker, and more dangerous than he could have ever imagined.
He could still feel the psychic strain in his mind—the whispers and flashes of someone else's thoughts that he hadn't meant to touch. He had to force himself to stand, and his legs shook. Every step burned. Every breath was a fight.
The boy reached out, asking questions Kaelen couldn't answer. He didn't even know what he was. All he could do was nod, his mind spinning.
I have to control this… I have to learn, or it will control me.
The Shattered Marches stretched ahead, endless, chaotic, and perilous. Kaelen's first trial had ended, but the journey — the survival, the learning, the struggle with the power surging within him — had only just begun.
The last rays of sun disappeared behind the jagged horizon, leaving Kaelen in twilight, every shadow a potential threat, every whisper of wind a reminder of the consequences he could not yet predict.
I survived… but I'm not the same.
A low hum of energy pulsed beneath his skin, a constant reminder: his power was alive, restless, and hungry. And so was the world.