Chapter 4: Burn Academies and Bloodlines
Sylas was thirteen when he realized what the world did to people like him.
It wasn't the demons inside him that terrified him.
It was the system outside.
🏫 The Birth of Burn Academies
Lifeforce Emission broke the world before it built a new one.
In 2018, the first case made headlines: a woman in Brazil turned to ash in seconds—after setting her entire house ablaze with a scream.
By 2020, the Global Accord stepped in. People were aging decades in minutes, exploding by accident, leveling neighborhoods with a glance.
And so, the five Burn Academies were born. Government-run, militarized schools for "Flareborns"—humans capable of wielding lifeforce.
Each region had its flavor:
🟥 Crimson Fold (North America) – Tactical. Brutal. Focused on short, lethal bursts and ranged blasts.🟨 Golden Steppe (Eastern Alliance) – Disciplined and elegant. Energy thread weaving and nerve-point strikes.🟦 Azure Tomb (Europe) – Defensive. Lifeforce shields, absorptions, redirection techniques.🟩 Verdant Coil (South America) – Unpredictable. Mimics animals, echoes primal forces.⬛ Obsidian Order – No records. Operates in shadows. Rumored to use stolen lifeforce.
They weren't schools. They were factories. And if you didn't qualify? You were left to burn alone.
🔥 The Training
Training was brutal:
Spark Recognition – Learning to "feel" your lifeforce. Many never made it past this.Emission Control – Directing energy to limbs, organs, or even through voice.Soulburn Discipline – Master-level. Sacrificing years of life to unlock short bursts of divine-level power.
But Sylas?
He had never aged a day since the ritual.
🏙️ Watching From Above
From a rooftop, Sylas watched a Burn Academy demo parade. Kids danced across the plaza, launching flare-bolts and levitating tiles for scouts in black coats.
He leaned on the rusted railing, eyes narrow.
"Trading years for applause," he murmured.
Inside, the demons chuckled.
"They give their lives for tricks."
"You could unmake a city with a whisper."
"We can show you how."
Sylas shut them out. Not today.
He stared down at the parade again—at the teens burning away their futures to survive.
He clenched his jaw.
"I didn't survive the ritual to be used like them."
But others had already heard the whispers.
In black-market forums. Underground scrolls. Rogue networks.
A name was spreading:
Vessel.