Ivan awoke to a world that was impossibly alive. The golden sun of Naaris stretched across floating mountains, casting light over rivers of luminescent energy that snaked through the valley like molten glass. The air hummed faintly, vibrating through the soles of his feet, yet he realized he was breathing — or perhaps, something deeper, something alien, was sustaining him instead.
Every nerve in his body was alive. The runes etched into his skin pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat he could feel in his bones. He flexed his fingers, and the air around him shimmered. Dust swirled without wind, tiny motes floating as if responding to him.
"What… is happening to me?" he whispered, voice trembling, uncertain if it was meant to carry sound or thought.
The energy under his skin surged in response. A wave of light shot from his fingertips, striking a nearby stone. It cracked with a thunderous snap, fragments suspended midair as if caught in invisible currents. Ivan stumbled backward, nearly falling. His chest heaved, eyes wide with panic.
"I… I didn't mean to—"
"Control it!" a voice said, calm yet firm. Ivan's heart skipped.
He turned. From the distance, a figure approached — taller than a man, clothed in leather that glimmered like polished steel. Her silver eyes scanned him carefully, unblinking. Even from afar, her presence carried authority.
"You're the new heir, aren't you?" she asked, her voice cutting through the hum of energy. "I sensed the disturbance from miles away."
"I… I don't even know what I am," Ivan said, voice cracking. "Something woke inside me. I can't stop it."
She studied him, crouching slightly to level her gaze. "The Seal of Succession," she said softly, "is a power beyond comprehension. It responds to intent, emotion… and fear. That energy you just released could have destroyed half this valley if left unchecked."
Ivan swallowed, looking at his hands. The runes burned brightly, throbbing against his skin like living creatures. His chest tightened, every beat syncing with the pulse of light. "I… I didn't mean to," he whispered again, panic rising in his throat.
The woman rose, stepping closer. "You didn't," she said. "And that's exactly why you must learn — fast. Power like this doesn't wait. It consumes those who hesitate."
Before Ivan could respond, the ground trembled. Jagged cracks spread across the valley floor, glowing veins of energy racing along them. Small rocks lifted into the air, spinning lazily before being ripped apart by arcs of uncontrolled light emanating from Ivan's hands.
He dropped to his knees, breath ragged. "I… I can't… control it," he said, voice barely audible over the roar of magic.
She crouched beside him again, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Focus. Breathe. Feel the Seal, not the fear."
He nodded shakily. The Seal pulsed in response, and visions of memory — not his own — flashed before his eyes: divine battles between gods, the forging of Naaris, the slow decay of ancient civilizations. A warmth and sorrow mingled inside him, heavy and insistent.
"It's… it's too much," he whispered. "I can't—"
"Then start with a step," she interrupted. "Small. One controlled release at a time. Survival begins with mastering what is yours."
Ivan's trembling hands formed a tentative motion, and a flicker of energy leapt from his palm, forming a thin line that cut across the air. The boulder he had cracked before trembled again but did not explode this time. He exhaled, exhausted, a mixture of fear and triumph filling him.
"That's… something," the woman said, nodding. "Not perfect, but you've taken your first step. And that's all anyone can ask at first."
A shadow moved silently behind the silver trees lining the valley. Ivan didn't notice it at first, absorbed in the fragile control he had just grasped. But the figure's crimson eyes glowed from the darkness, unwavering and cold.
"The heir awakens," it murmured softly. "And with every heartbeat, the world inches closer to ruin."
Ivan stood, shaky but determined, his chest still alight with the Seal's pulse. He looked at the distant temple, its summit crowned in swirling storm clouds that hadn't been there moments ago.
"This… is only the beginning," he whispered to himself, fists clenched. "I will master it… no matter what it takes."
The wind picked up, carrying the metallic scent of energy, rustling the silver leaves of the forest like a prelude to a storm. Every pulse of light beneath his skin whispered secrets, promises, and warnings he could not yet understand.
And somewhere, in the shadows of Naaris, watchers waited — silent, patient, and inexorably drawn to the rise of the new heir.