Kael sat frozen in the circle of runes, the echo of the explosion still vibrating in his bones. Ash floated in the air like black snowflakes, and silence fell heavy upon the training yard. The others stood at the edges, too stunned to speak.
The arcane energy that had burst from Kael moments ago had left a spiral-shaped scorch mark around his feet. His heart thundered as he tried to understand what just happened. There had been no chant, no invocation, no scroll, just instinct, desperation... and then power.
Elder Harun was the first to move. His boots crunched over the charred ground as he approached. His pale eyes, usually so calm, were wide with unease. "Kael," he said slowly, "did you channel that energy?"
Kael struggled to his feet. "I—I don't know. I didn't do anything. I just... felt something. Like a spark in my chest. And then—boom."
Harun knelt and examined the sigil that had formed in the ground. It pulsed faintly with red light, shaped like a broken circle intersected by jagged lines. The mark was foreign unfamiliar to any of the known schools of magic.
The other apprentices whispered behind their hands, murmuring words like cursed, possessed, and aberration. Kael clenched his fists. He had always been the outsider. Now he was something worse.
Master Sera strode in, her red robes trailing behind her. Her sharp features were unreadable. She crouched beside Harun, eyes fixed on the sigil. Then she looked up at Kael.
"This isn't Elemental. Nor is it Blood, Bone, or Void. It's something else entirely," she said. "Take him to the Archives. We need to cross-reference this mark."
Kael barely had time to react before Harun clasped a hand on his shoulder and guided him away. The others parted like waves around a stone, and Kael felt their stares burn into his back.
They passed through the obsidian halls of the Citadel, descending into the depths where ancient texts were kept under layers of arcane seals. Harun unlocked the door to the inner sanctum with a whisper, and the two stepped into a room that smelled of dust and forgotten ages.
"Sit," Harun commanded. "You're not leaving until we know what you've touched."
Kael sat at the central table, and Harun began pulling tomes from the shelves. Hours passed as they scoured pages of sigils, forgotten dialects, and forbidden schools. Nothing matched.
But then, Kael's fingers brushed a brittle parchment buried under a pile of neglected scrolls. The same red sigil was drawn on it in faded ink. Beneath it, the script read:
"Zeroborn – The First Flame of the End."
Harun paled. "That name hasn't been spoken in over a thousand years..."
Kael leaned forward. "What is it? What does it mean?"
Harun looked him in the eyes. "It means, Kael... you're not skillless. You're something far more dangerous."
Kael swallowed hard. Whatever was awakening inside him had roots deeper than any magic known today. And for the first time, he felt a flicker of something in his chest. Not fear, power.