Night fell like ink over the temple.
The wind howled softly through the mountains, brushing the rooftops with chill fingers. The disciples had long since gone to their sleeping quarters, but Kieran lay awake, his eyes open, watching shadows flicker across the ceiling.
He had been dreaming again.
Only this time, it wasn't just glimpses of numbers or fractured echoes of martial forms.
It was voices.
A name.
A throne of ash and stars.
And a creature with eyes like dying moons.
He sat up, sweat sticking his tunic to his back. The lantern flame beside his mat wavered, as if stirred by something unseen.
He looked around.
Nothing.
But the feeling remained.
That someone—or something—was calling him.
Not Kieran.
But Kael.
A name no one here knew.
The name he had been born with in his previous life.
He pressed a hand to his chest.
The air shimmered faintly, and for a split second, he saw something flicker on his skin—an ancient rune, spiraling like a constellation, before vanishing.
He barely had time to process it before—
"Come."
The whisper cracked through his head like thunder.
He gasped, spinning toward the door.
It was open.
He hadn't opened it.
---
Kieran crept into the night, the cold biting his bare feet. The path that stretched before him was dusted with silver frost, and at the edges of the torches' light, strange shadows twitched as if aware.
He followed the whisper.
Not because he wanted to.
Because it wouldn't let him stop.
Down, past the sparring courts.
Lower, into the abandoned archives beneath the mountain's root—sealed years ago after a spiritual collapse. No one went down there.
Except tonight, the doors weren't sealed.
They were open.
Waiting.
He hesitated at the threshold.
"Is this really a good idea?" he muttered, mostly to convince himself he still had control.
Then a breeze curled out from within the darkness and whispered his true name again.
"Kael."
He stepped through.
---
The air inside was thick with forgotten magic.
The chamber beyond the broken threshold wasn't as dusty as it should have been. Runes hummed faintly across the walls, broken only by the occasional scorch mark—remnants of a disaster never fully explained.
Kieran stepped carefully, sensing the tension in the space. It was alive, watching.
Then a breath of frost spilled across the floor.
And from the shadows emerged something ancient.
A creature not made of flesh, but of smoke and starlight—twisting like a serpent, its horns like curved silver blades, its eyes dim and deep.
A spirit. No. A guardian.
It coiled in a wide circle before him, pressing its face close to his.
"Do you remember me?" it asked, voice not spoken but felt.
Kieran's lips parted. "What… are you?"
"You knew me once, Star-Fallen. You forged me in flame and bone. You were my master. My wielder. My—" the creature paused "—my last command was to find you."
"That's not possible," Kieran whispered. "That was just a story. A novel my sister used to tell—"
"Your sister told the truth as fiction. That was the only way the knowledge could be passed safely."
He reeled back. "Wait. You mean this whole world… it really is…"
"Built from ash and prophecy," the spirit murmured. "And you, Kael, were never meant to return."
"But I did."
"Yes," the spirit agreed solemnly. "And your arrival has awakened more than just me."
It turned its head. The walls around them trembled.
"The seal is breaking. The old lords stir in their tombs. And the one who devoured stars still sleeps beneath the lake—but not for long."
Kieran shook his head. "I'm not ready for this. I'm just a kid."
"You are not just anything," the creature hissed, soft and fierce. "You are the Star-Forged Flame. The last of the Skybound Line."
"I don't remember being any of that."
"You will."
The creature leaned closer. "But first, you must awaken what still sleeps inside you. The key is not strength. It is understanding. Equation and essence. Balance and blade."
Kieran blinked. "You're saying magic is… math?"
"Magic is truth. Math is simply the language closest to truth your mind understands."
A stunned silence followed.
And then the spirit whispered, "I am yours, if you would name me."
Kieran swallowed hard.
He didn't know what was right.
He didn't even know if this was real.
But a name rose to his lips.
"Ember."
The creature's eyes flared.
"So be it."
And in a flash of light, the guardian vanished—leaving behind a faint glowing sigil burned into the floor and a crystal shard embedded in Kieran's palm.
He gasped, falling to one knee.
His body burned with sudden clarity—as if a gate had been unlocked. Equations danced behind his eyes. Patterns shifted in the stone. The world made more sense.
And in that moment, he felt something else.
Something watching him.
He turned.
And saw Damon standing in the shadows.
---
"Are you following me now?" Kieran rasped.
Damon stepped forward, face unreadable. "You snuck out of bed, walked into the Forbidden Chambers, and started glowing like a summoned god. Yes, I followed you."
Kieran stood shakily. "You weren't supposed to see that."
"No," Damon said coldly. "And yet, here I am."
There was a long silence.
Then, softly: "What are you?"
Kieran looked away. "I… don't know. Not yet."
Damon's eyes narrowed. "The prince asked me that same question about you last night."
Kieran froze. "Rhael?"
"He's interested in you. Too interested. And now this?"
"I didn't ask for this, Damon."
"I know. But you have it. And that means everything's about to change."
Kieran felt the weight of those words settle in his chest.
And then Damon added, almost reluctantly, "Whatever happens next… you don't have to face it alone."
Kieran looked up.
Their eyes met.
And something passed between them. Uneasy. Unspoken. Real.
Kieran nodded.
But inside, his thoughts swirled like a storm.
He had just awakened part of a lost legacy.
And from now on, nothing would ever be the same.
---