The training grounds of the Citadel were nothing like Sera had expected. Carved into the cliffs of Aralorn, they hung above the roaring sea, a jagged place where winds screamed and waves crashed—untamed and brutal, like the magic they were meant to master here.
Riven stood at her side, arms crossed, his gaze scanning the line of mages sent to assess her awakening.
"You don't have to prove anything," he said, though his tone betrayed the worry beneath his calm.
Sera clenched her fists. "Yes, I do. If I'm going to stop what's coming… I need to become stronger. I need to remember who I was."
Across from her stood a tall woman with hair like silver wire and eyes that glowed with flame.
"I am Master Kaelira," the woman said, voice echoing with enchantment. "And if you survive me, child of the Loom… perhaps you are worthy of your forgotten name."
Before Sera could react, Kaelira struck.
A wave of fire surged toward her—hotter than anything Sera had ever faced. She threw up a barrier of raw instinct, the magic lurching out of her like a scream. The flame bent around her shield but still scorched the edges of her cloak.
Her heart pounded. She wasn't ready.
But Kaelira didn't stop. The second wave came with lightning, and the third with illusions. She was testing Sera's reactions, not just her power. And she was merciless.
Sera gritted her teeth and pushed harder.
With each blow, something inside her cracked open—first pain, then clarity, then fire.
Real fire. Not borrowed. Not trained. Born.
The veil she'd touched at the temple had left a mark on her, invisible but deep. Now, in the heat of battle, it ignited.
Her eyes flashed gold.
With a cry, she unleashed a pulse of magic that knocked Kaelira backward—not far, not enough to injure, but enough to draw gasps from the other mages.
Kaelira landed and smiled. "So… the flame within still lives."
Sera fell to one knee, breath ragged. "Is that… enough?"
Kaelira approached slowly. "It is a beginning."
Behind her, Riven watched, pride and fear warring in his expression.
Far away, in a citadel made of mirrors, another figure stirred—one cloaked in shadow and desire.
And he whispered, "The Ember-Born awakens. Let the Heir of Ruin be summoned."
---