The walk back through the Hollow Forest was no triumph. It was survival painted in silence.
The initiates carried no pride in their steps, only fear. Of the five that entered the second ring, only three walked out. And of the three, only one bore the weight of the fragment.
Kael.
The residue clung to him even outside the clearing, threads of silver radiance leaking from his scar. The others kept their distance. Their conduits strained merely by being near him. He could feel it the fragment inside him pulsed in rhythm with his heart, but each beat felt foreign, as if something else dictated its pace.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep moving. He had endured the claiming, but the battle was not finished. The fragment did not rest. It whispered.
Burn them. Break them. Feed us.
Kael ignored it. His conduit burned, reshaped by the dual resonance. Normal residue moved in one current; now, he had two. One, his natural flow ordered, disciplined. The other, the fragment's wild, volatile, silver fire. Forcing them to coexist was like chaining lightning beside water.
Every breath was war.
The sect's gates loomed at last, towering walls of jade stone carved with wards meant to repel corrupted residue. As Kael crossed the threshold, the wards flared violently, reacting to his presence.
The guards staggered back.
"Fragment-bearer," one whispered.
The word carried weight. Not reverence fear.
They did not stop him. They did not dare.
The initiates were taken before the Elders. The chamber was vast, a circle of stone lit by suspended lanterns filled with liquid flame. Eight figures sat in silence, robes heavy with the insignia of the Hollow Fang Sect.
The Master of Trials, Daran, stood at the center. His gaze swept the survivors, lingering on Kael.
"Report."
The two survivors spoke first, recounting the deaths of Leth and Rhovan. Their voices shook when they described Kael's claiming of the fragment. When they finished, silence filled the chamber.
All eyes turned to Kael.
He bowed stiffly, though his scar pulsed in protest. "The fragment demanded surrender. I gave it what it sought. It now dwells within me."
Murmurs rippled among the Elders.
"Dual resonance…" one muttered.
"Impossible," another hissed.
"Suicidal," said a third.
Daran silenced them with a raised hand. He stepped closer, his gaze sharp. "Show us."
Kael hesitated. To release the fragment's power meant risking its hunger. But refusal was death of another kind.
He raised his hand.
The scar flared, and silver veins ignited across his skin. Residue surged, weaving in two conflicting flows his natural current in calm rhythm, and the fragment's in violent chaos. For a moment, they clashed, threatening to tear him apart. Kael gritted his teeth, forcing discipline into the storm.
Silver fire bloomed in his palm. Not flame. Not lightning. Something in between, alive and writhing.
The chamber filled with its light. The Elders recoiled. One shielded himself instinctively. Another hissed as her conduit wavered under its pressure.
Then Kael closed his fist, extinguishing it.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Daran studied him for a long moment. "You live where others would have turned to ash. You endure what should not be endured. But understand this you are not master of the fragment. It is master of you. Fail to discipline it, and you will bring ruin not only to yourself, but to the sect."
An Elder leaned forward. "Kill him now. Better a corpse than a walking calamity."
Another countered sharply, "Or harness him. Do you not see what weapon he could become?"
Arguments erupted, voices rising, the chamber divided. Some saw a tool. Others, a threat.
Kael stood still, the scar burning like a brand, while the fate of his existence was debated above his head.
Finally, Daran's voice cut through. "Enough."
The chamber fell silent.
He turned to Kael, his eyes hard as stone. "From this day, you are no longer an initiate. You are a Fragment-bearer. You will be confined to the Ash Vault, trained in isolation, tested beyond exhaustion. If you survive, you may serve the sect. If you fail, your ashes will feed its soil."
Kael bowed, though his jaw tightened. He had traded one prison for another.
The fragment inside him pulsed in dark amusement.
Yes. Isolation. Yes. Feed us discipline. Break it. Break you.
Kael's eyes hardened. He did not speak back to it. He simply breathed, anchoring himself in silence.
The path he walked was narrower than a blade's edge.
One misstep, and he would fall not into death, but into something far worse.