Rain hammered the Driftpost rooftops like a war drum.
Kael's boots splashed through puddles as he followed Ryke down an alley thick with shadows. The scent of sea rot and fish guts clung to the air, but Kael barely noticed it anymore.
He could still feel the bruises from last night's training. His ribs ached when he breathed, his palms raw from gripping the practice staff.
But beneath all of it, something stirred.
A heat.
A pressure.
Like something beneath his skin wanted out.
"Where are we going?" Kael asked, adjusting the pendant tucked under his shirt.
Ryke didn't slow down. "Into the Underdocks."
Kael furrowed his brow. "What's that?"
"The part of Driftpost where the world turns its back. Old tunnels beneath the port—abandoned when they started collapsing. Now it's where secrets grow mold."
They turned a corner. Ryke knelt by a rusted grate in the ground and pried it open with a dagger.
"First time I came down here," he said, "I was running from a bounty hunter with half my leg sliced open. So I'll be honest with you, kid—don't fall behind."
Kael dropped down after him.
The Underdocks swallowed the light immediately.
Below the Surface
The tunnel was narrow and wet. Pipes ran along the walls, some dripping, others hissing like they resented being awake. Ryke held up a flickering lantern. Its orange glow danced across graffiti-covered stone: prayers, curses, symbols in forgotten tongues.
Kael followed close.
Eventually, Ryke stopped before a rusted door. He knocked three times, waited, then knocked twice more.
A slot in the metal slid open. A pair of mismatched eyes—one brown, one glowing faintly blue—peeked through.
Then the door creaked open.
Inside was a den of maps, charts, and glass tubes humming with light. Lanterns shaped like floating orbs bobbed in the air. Crates marked with seals Kael didn't recognize were stacked in every corner.
At the center of it all sat a girl, no older than Kael. Her dark hair was tied back with copper wire. Goggles rested on her forehead, and her gloved hands were stained with ink and ash.
"About time," she said, not looking up. "You're late."
"I wasn't planning to bring him," Ryke said, nodding toward Kael.
The girl finally looked. Her eyes locked on Kael—sharp, calculating.
"So this is the Ember Boy."
Kael frowned. "The what?"
She stood and walked around him slowly, inspecting him like a blacksmith inspecting flawed metal.
"Small. Untrained. But... something's burning in you."
"Stop talking like I'm not here."
That made her smirk.
"I'm Lira. Tinkerer, codebreaker, trapmaker, and part-time oracle."
Kael blinked. "Oracle?"
"She means she's good at guessing things and pretending it's fate," Ryke muttered.
Lira ignored him and pointed to Kael's pendant.
"That thing's been sealed for years. But I can hear it humming now. Want me to open it?"
Kael hesitated. "Can you?"
Lira grinned. "I can open anything."
She led him to a corner where machines pulsed and clicked. A glass pedestal sat in the center, surrounded by coils of copper and lightstone.
"Put the pendant there."
Kael hesitated, then did.
The room dimmed.
As soon as the pendant touched the glass, the machines roared to life. Lights flickered. Sparks flew. A pulse echoed in the floor, like a second heartbeat.
Kael stepped back.
The pendant cracked.
A single thread of golden light leaked out, swirling like smoke, coiling around Kael's chest and into his spine.
Then—
Flash.
Inside the Radiant Core
Kael wasn't in the room anymore.
He stood in a black void lit by floating embers. His body was weightless. His breath echoed like wind through hollow stone.
Before him hovered a figure—tall, cloaked in flame. No face. No eyes. Just light.
Its voice came not from a mouth but from everywhere at once:
"Heir of the Starseer. You awaken in fire."
Kael stepped forward. "What is this?"
"The first ember."
The figure raised its hand.
"See what they feared."
Suddenly, images burst around him—
A boy with the same pendant standing over a burning capital.
A line of chained prisoners with glowing eyes being drained by machines.
Twelve figures with Radiant Marks etched on their backs, facing an army wearing the crest of the World Government.
Kael staggered.
His head burned. His chest felt too small for the heat rising inside it.
"I can't—!"
"You must."
The light surged into him.
Pain, clarity, rage, hope—
A thousand years of stolen memories burned behind his eyes.
Then—
Snap.
He fell backward into his body.
Awakening
Kael's eyes shot open.
Golden fire burned in his veins. His vision swam with symbols. The pendant, now cracked open, floated before him, its inner core glowing like a tiny sun.
Lira stumbled back. "Stars above... You actually did it."
Ryke stepped forward slowly. "What did you see?"
Kael stood, shaky. His voice trembled, not with fear—but fury.
"They're not just tyrants. They're leeches. The Government's draining Radiant-blooded people—turning their power into weapons. My parents... they tried to stop it."
Ryke's jaw tightened.
Kael looked down at his hand. Faint sparks of gold danced between his fingers.
"I'm going to stop them."
Somewhere Else...
The Marked Man knelt at the altar of a hollow temple built into a cliff face. Dozens of hooded followers stood around him.
A voice echoed through the stones.
"It has begun. The Starseer's flame has returned."
The Marked Man raised his head.
"Then let the hunting begin again."
Back in Driftpost
That night, Kael stood on the warehouse rooftop again. The rain had stopped. The sky was clear.
He looked out at the city, its lights twinkling like stars trying to survive the dark.
Ryke approached quietly. "You burned through your first gate. Most people don't survive that."
Kael didn't answer right away.
Then: "What's the next name on the list?"
Ryke handed him the old, weathered map. The red "X" marked a mountain range far east of Driftpost, near a territory long abandoned by the Crown.
"Her name is Velin. She used to be a soldier. Now she's a ghost."
Kael rolled the map up.
"Then let's find the ghost."