The fire in the hearth crackled louder than usual, casting long, writhing shadows across the stone walls of the Vorrien cottage. Outside, the chill of the night seeped through the tightly shuttered windows, bringing with it a strange stillness that muffled the usual sounds of nocturnal life. Even the wind had gone quiet, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.
Kael Vorrien sat cross-legged on the worn rug before the hearth, his eyes fixed on the dancing flame as if seeking answers hidden within its glow. He was seventeen today. The realization felt hollow. No celebration, no laughter—just the same gnawing unease that had followed him for months, intensifying as the day approached.
His mother, Elira, moved gracefully through the room, her robes rustling softly like whispers through leaves. Her presence, though calm, carried a quiet urgency tonight. Her silver-white hair, a hallmark of the Spiritweavers of Elarion, shimmered faintly even in the dim light.
"Kael," she said softly, kneeling beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, warm and firm. "Do you feel it again? The voice?"
He hesitated. How could he explain it? The dreams had grown vivid—searing visions of fire, shadow, and a woman cloaked in flames speaking words he couldn't understand.
"It's louder now," he said finally. "Like it wants me to remember something."
Elira's eyes met her husband's across the room. Theron Vorrien stood tall and silent, his hands clasped behind his back. He was a man of fire—literally. The Pyros bloodline flowed through him, gifting him control over flame and heat. But tonight, even his steady demeanor seemed strained.
"We don't have much time," Elira whispered. "The seal... it's weakening."
Kael looked between them, confusion tightening in his chest. "Seal? What seal?"
Theron stepped forward, his boots thudding softly on the wooden floor. "Son, there's something you need to know."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Before they could speak again, the hearth roared—unprovoked. Flames surged higher, licking the ceiling, and from the heart of the fire came a voice. Feminine. Ancient.
"He awakens. The blood of fire and spirit has stirred. The hunt begins."
Kael stumbled back, heart pounding. "What was that?!"
Elira moved swiftly, drawing sigils in the air with her fingers. A ward shimmered into place over the hearth, dimming the fire's fury. But the voice lingered in Kael's mind, echoing like a curse.
Theron's jaw tightened. "There's no more time."
They led Kael to the basement, a place he hadn't seen since he was a boy. Dust swirled in the lantern light as they descended the spiral staircase carved from obsidian stone. At the center of the chamber below lay a stone altar, inscribed with runes that pulsed faintly with blue and red light.
"This is where we sealed your core," Elira said.
Kael blinked. "My... core?"
Theron raised his hand, and the flame in the lantern condensed into a small orb that hovered above them, illuminating the room. "Every mage is born with a magic core. Yours was... different. Too powerful. Too pure."
"So you sealed it? Why?"
Elira's voice trembled. "Because of the Shadow King."
The name brought a sudden pressure in the air, as though the walls themselves recoiled.
"Vaemorh," Theron said grimly. "He hunts those like you—those born with SSS-ranked abilities. Your birth was foretold in prophecy. If he had known you existed, he would've torn the world apart to kill you."
Kael staggered backward. "I'm just a farmer's son. I've never even used magic."
Elira stepped closer, tears in her eyes. "Because we bound your core. We made you forget. To protect you."
Kael's head spun. Seventeen years of mundane life—were they all a lie?
The runes on the altar pulsed brighter, reacting to his confusion, his fear, and—buried beneath—his power.
A scream split the air.
Not from within the chamber—but above.
Elira's face went pale. "They found us."
Kael barely had time to react. Theron surged upward in a column of fire, the ceiling erupting as he blasted through it and emerged into the night. Elira grasped Kael's wrist.
"Stay here. Do not leave this circle."
But Kael stepped forward. He couldn't stay.
Outside, darkness had descended—not night, but a deeper, moving dark. Shadows that slithered like oil across the ground. Figures emerged—tall, armored in obsidian, eyes glowing with violet malice.
Shadow Sentinels.
Theron roared, unleashing a torrent of flame that incinerated the front ranks. But more poured forth, endless.
Kael watched, helpless, rage and fear boiling inside him.
Then he heard it again—that voice from the fire.
"Release. Remember. Rise."
Pain tore through his chest as the seal began to crack.
He screamed, light and shadow bursting from his body in a spiral of raw, uncontrolled magic. The ground trembled. Runes shattered.
And deep in the earth, something ancient stirred.
The explosion knocked Elira backward as Kael's aura flooded the chamber. She screamed his name, reaching through the light.
Kael floated above the altar, suspended in an orb of elemental chaos. Images flashed in his mind—cities aflame, titanic beasts locked in battle, a woman of fire kissing him beneath a bleeding moon.
The moment snapped.
Kael fell to the stone floor, gasping. His body felt like it was splitting apart, every nerve aflame.
Elira held him close, tears streaking down her cheeks. "The seal's only partially broken. You can't stay here, Kael. They'll keep coming. You must run."
He gritted his teeth. "Not without you."
She smiled sadly. "You are our legacy. Our hope."
Above, Theron was a blazing god of war. Flames roared from his fists, melting Shadow Sentinels by the dozens. But they didn't scream. They didn't falter. For every one he burned, three more emerged.
Then the sky split.
A portal tore open, blacker than void, and from it descended a figure draped in robes of shadow. His face was hidden behind a crown of thorns and smoke.
Vaemorh.
Theron's flame flickered.
The Shadow King landed with no sound. His voice slithered across the battlefield like poison.
"Vorrien. Still clinging to hope? You've failed. The boy is mine."
Theron roared and lunged. Flame met shadow.
Below, Elira took Kael's hands and whispered ancient words. A portal shimmered into being, pulsing with energy.
"This will take you to the forest of Syrelan. There, you'll find a guide—someone we trusted long ago. She'll keep you safe."
Kael looked into her eyes. "Come with me."
A crash shook the house above. Debris rained down.
Elira kissed his forehead. "Live, Kael. Remember who you are. Find the others."
She shoved him into the portal.
The last thing he saw before the light swallowed him was his mother raising her staff, spirit fire blooming around her as the Shadow King's presence filled the house.
Kael landed hard in a forest clearing, the scent of moss and distant rain heavy in the air. He stumbled to his feet, dizzy, shaking.
Behind him, the portal vanished.
His chest still burned. The seal wasn't broken—but it had fractured. And in its place now lived a voice, not just speaking, but waiting.
"Awaken. Gather. Reclaim the flame."
Kael stared into the night, breath ragged.
"I will find them," he whispered. "And I will end you, Vaemorh."
He took his first step into the world—not as a farmer's son, but as a flame born to burn away the shadow.