The bells of Zareth tolled again. Not the chimes of celebration that had followed my Trial of Worth, but deeper, older bells that sounded like they were carved from mountains and forged by ancient tongues.
They marked the beginning of a new cycle.
And for me, the beginning of training.
Sunlight filtered through the enchanted skylight above my room, refracting into colors that shifted with the energy of the city. I sat cross-legged on a circular stone mat etched with glyphs. My skin still tingled from the awakening yesterday, as if the mana core Arkon had unlocked in me was still adjusting, stretching, expanding, rooting itself deeper into my soul.
In the quiet of my chamber, I listened to it the hum of power.
Subtle. Electric. Alive.
It pulsed like a second heartbeat, buried behind my ribs.
"Focus, Jace…" I muttered to myself. "You have seven days. Seven."
I held up my hand, closed my eyes, and imagined the flame. Not just its heat, but its motion, its hunger, its personality. Magic wasn't just an equation here it had emotion, form, instinct. It responded to how you thought, how you felt.
I pictured the fire I saw in Arkon's hand.
A pure orb.
Calm, yet deadly.
"Luxi'ar Flame manifest," I whispered, recalling the incantation Arkon had demonstrated.
A spark flickered in my palm brief, sputtering, gone.
My mana core reacted. I felt the strain the tug of energy but no release.
"Again."
🔹 The Training Grounds of the Initiates
By midday, I made my way to the Initiates' Training Grounds a massive field suspended atop a floating terrace, with rings of stone arenas, sparring dummies, elemental chambers, and illusion pits. Mages-in-training moved across the space, some levitating scrolls with a flick of their fingers, others shaping water and wind with practiced ease.
The moment I stepped onto the field, I felt eyes on me.
The outsider. The slave-turned-initiate.
Most wore rich robes, personalized crests, polished boots, and rings humming with enchantment. I wore a simple black tunic with the seal of the Archmage at my collar a mark that granted me respect… and resentment.
A tall boy with golden hair and an arrogant smirk stepped into my path.
"You're the one Master Arkon picked? The gutter rat?"
I stopped, met his gaze.
"And you are?"
"Aeron Da'Cahl," he said proudly. "Second heir of House Cahl, direct descendant of High Mage Vaelor. I've trained in flame since I was five. You've been here for what two days?"
"Long enough to survive what most couldn't," I replied coolly.
He scowled, flicked his wrist and a small blade of fire danced across his fingers.
"Then let's see if survival makes you strong. Duel me. Now."
Gasps echoed around us. A crowd began forming.
My first challenge.
🔹 The First Duel
The instructors were quick to regulate the space. An arena circle was formed with protective barriers designed to absorb stray spells and prevent death, but not injury.
Master Velan, a stoic elf in silver robes, stepped between us.
"This is not a fight for dominance," he said. "It is a test of control. Flame only."
He looked at me. "This is dangerous for someone barely awakened."
I nodded. "I know. I accept."
Velan raised a hand.
"Begin!"
Aeron wasted no time. He shot a spiral of flame toward me tight, controlled, elegant.
I dove to the side and rolled, narrowly avoiding the heat. The flame grazed my shoulder, singing the fabric. Pain licked across my skin.
"Come on!" Aeron taunted. "Show me that spark Arkon saw!"
I stood, breathing hard.
"Luxi'ar!" I roared. "Flame manifest!"
This time, the spark appeared.
A small, unstable orb of flame flared in my palm. It trembled, too wild, too raw but it was there.
I hurled it.
It missed.
Exploded harmlessly beside him.
Aeron laughed. "That's it? Pathetic!"
He sent a chain of fire snaking toward me quick, clever, meant to bind and burn. I barely managed to leap aside, but the tail caught my leg. I bit down a scream as pain seared across my calf.
I hit the ground hard, coughing, vision blurring.
No.
No, I wouldn't fall like this.
I wasn't just fighting to win.
I was fighting to prove I belonged.
To prove I was free.
🔹 The Awakening
I clenched my fists.
The heat inside my chest responded flaring, rising, becoming something more than fear.
It became anger. Focused. Clear.
"Luxi'ar… Orven Khaal."
I didn't know why I said it.
The words had come from somewhere deeper than memory.
Suddenly my hand ignited.
Not with a spark, but with a blade of fire, sharp and controlled, wrapped around my fingers like a living weapon.
The crowd gasped.
Even Master Velan leaned forward.
I rose to my feet slowly.
Aeron hesitated.
I struck.
One swing, clean and fast.
He dodged but the flame singed his robes and knocked him backward. He skidded across the arena, eyes wide, expression stunned.
He scrambled up.
"You… You used an ancient form! That's not standard incantation!"
"I used what I needed."
The flame extinguished on its own, my hand smoking slightly.
Velan stepped forward, raising his hand.
"Enough! The duel ends. Initiate Jace Elrin demonstrated control, originality, and restraint. Victory… Elrin."
The arena echoed with whispers.
I didn't smile.
I just turned, walked away from Aeron, and out of the circle.
🔹 Whispers of War
That evening, Arkon summoned me to his observatory again.
He stood at the edge of the room, staring out at the storm brewing on the horizon.
"I heard you defeated Aeron. Impressive."
"It wasn't about him," I replied. "It was about surviving."
Arkon turned slowly.
"Good. Because soon, you'll face more than spoiled nobles."
He flicked his fingers, and a map floated in the air—one of the empire, but with red blotches marked in its southern provinces.
"The Empire's outer lands are stirring. Rebellion brews. Forbidden cults rise. And something older than Zareth itself is awakening."
He looked at me his expression unreadable.
"You've shown potential. But you must now decide something."
"Decide what?"
"Whether you'll become a scholar... or a weapon."
I didn't hesitate.
"Whatever I become, I'll never be a slave again."
Arkon's eyes glowed brighter.
"Good. Then I'll teach you magic the Circle has long forbidden. Magic that shapes empires. Magic that burns thrones."
He extended his hand.
"Are you ready to set the world on fire?"
I reached out.
And took it.