Doren's sleep was not peaceful. He fell into a deep slumber, but it was quickly consumed by a nightmare of his own making. In the dream, he wasn't a master of one element, but of all six. He was back on the quiet hill, but the Powerhart within him was a roaring inferno, a storm of power that he couldn't contain. Earth and water tore at each other in a chaotic dance around him, a gale-force wind whipped the air into a frenzy, and a sun-like fire burned in his hands, casting long, menacing shadows.
He was a god of all elements, but he was a monster. Every time he tried to help, to use his power for good, it came out as destruction. He watched in horror as his magic ripped the garden from the ground, the very earth Daria had so lovingly nurtured turning to dust. He saw a burst of uncontrolled flame ignite the roof of their cottage, the home his family had known for generations now a burning funeral pyre.
He reached for Jemsie to heal a splinter, and a wave of darkness, a silent, chilling void, flowed from his fingertips, enveloping her and extinguishing her light. He saw his mother, her face a mask of grief, her eyes filled with a terror he had put there. His family was terrified of him, and he was the one who had caused it.
The nightmare was a stark, brutal warning. His journey couldn't be a solo one. His power and his secret would be the end of him and the end of his family if he didn't find a way to share it, to control it, to become more than just a ghost. He was the one who would cause his undoing.
He woke with a gasp, his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of the Focal Stone in his pocket feeling less like a comfort and more like a curse.
Doren woke in a cold sweat, his breathing ragged. The nightmare had been so real, the terror of his own power so visceral, that for a moment he couldn't tell where the dream ended and reality began. The cottage was silent, the moonlight filtering through the window, a gentle, silver reassurance that he and his family were safe.
His hand shot to his pocket, his fingers closing around the Focal Stone. He gripped it so tightly his knuckles turned white, the smooth, cool surface a stark contrast to the burning chaos of his dream. The stone felt like a tether, an anchor to the world of control and reason. It was the only thing standing between the quiet boy he was and the monster he could become. He held it against his chest, clenching it as if it were a talisman, a shield against his own destructive potential. The silent promise to protect his family was no longer enough; he had to protect them from himself.
As the sun's first rays pierced the window, Doren sat up. He hadn't slept for the rest of the night, the Focal Stone clutched tightly in his hand. The nightmare had left a cold dread in his stomach, a stark vision of the monster he could become. The time for secrets was over.
He went to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast, the rhythmic sound of chopping vegetables a grounding contrast to his turbulent thoughts. Soon, the rest of the family began to stir. Jerter entered first, her eyes heavy with a decade of worry. Daria and Jemsie followed, their quiet movements filled with a shared, silent grief. Leasie, a gray-skinned ghost in the morning light, was the last to arrive, her presence a peaceful stillness in the room.
The air was heavy with unspoken words. The absence of Sophron was a gaping wound, and the new absence of Nergal was a fresh sting. Doren set a bowl of porridge in front of each of them, and then sat down, the Focal Stone on the table beside him.
"I have something to tell you all," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
Jerter's eyes, filled with a knowing sorrow, met his. The girls, however, looked up, a mix of curiosity and concern on their faces.
"It's about me," he continued, "and about Father." He picked up the stone, the smooth gray surface a comfort in his hand. "Before he left, he gave me this. He told me that I wasn't like you. I don't have one element. I have all six."
The room fell silent. Daria's hand, which had been reaching for her spoon, froze. Jemsie's soft smile vanished. Leasie's serene expression was replaced by a look of profound confusion.
Jerter simply watched him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She already knew the truth.
"I have a Powerhart," Doren finished, his voice a whisper. "It's a power that can control all the elements, but it's a power that can also destroy everything. I've been training in secret, trying to learn how to control it, but… I had a nightmare. I saw what would happen if I didn't tell you. I saw what would happen if I tried to do this alone."
He looked at his sisters, his blue eyes pleading for them to understand. "I need your help," he said. "I need to learn from you. I need to understand your elements, so that I can control my own."
The sisters were stunned into silence, the weight of his revelation settling over them. They looked at the boy they thought they knew, the quiet, powerless brother, and saw a hidden world of immense potential and terrifying risk.
Leasie, still processing the shock of her brother's revelation, broke the silence. Her voice was soft, a stark contrast to the earthquake of emotions in the room. "Where is Damurah?" she asked, her dark amber eyes filled with a new kind of confusion. "Why didn't he tell us he was going on a trip?"
Doren looked away, his heart heavy with the secret he'd failed to keep. "I don't think it was a trip," he said quietly, his gaze falling to the Focal Stone in his hand. "I saw him leave late last night. He took his sword, and he had fire on his feet to move faster." He looked at his mother, then at his sisters, his voice filled with a quiet finality. "I don't think he'll be back anytime soon."
A collective gasp filled the room. The fresh wound of Nergal's departure was still raw, and now another one was torn open. This time, there was no promise of return, no farewells, no hope.
Jerter's hand went to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. Daria's stoic expression crumbled, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Jemsie's face, which had been a beacon of hope, was now a mask of confusion and betrayal.
The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with the weight of two absent brothers and one brother's newly exposed secret.
Jerter let out a long, shuddering sigh, the sound a mix of sadness and acceptance. She looked at Doren, then at the empty chairs where her sons had sat. She knew the moment had been coming, not just for Nergal, but for Damurah as well. He was a fire that needed a grander stage than a village forge. She looked at the Focal Stone on the table, then at her own hands, clutching the tiny camping stone in her pocket. Her birds were leaving the nest, one by one, flying to their own destinies. It was a sad moment, but a moment of pride all the same. Without another word, she quietly left the room, leaving her children to face this new reality.
The silence in the room was a heavy weight, broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of Jemsie wiping away a single tear. Doren looked at his sisters, his heart pounding in his chest. He had revealed his secret, a weight he had carried for a decade, and now he had to hope they would help him carry it.