Awakened Element
The pre-dawn air was cool and silent, carrying the scent of distant rain. Solace stepped away from Mara's modest home, the weight of the coming academy test pressing on his shoulders. Yet, beyond that looming trial, a greater challenge stirred within him—one that no amount of structured training could prepare him for.
He had to discover his element.
Leaving the outskirts behind, he wandered into the wastelands, where the ground was cracked and barren, devoid of life. The ruins of long-forgotten structures lay scattered in the distance, remnants of a world that had fallen to ruin long before his birth. Here, beneath the vast sky where dawn had yet to bleed through the darkness, he would find his answer.
Solace settled onto the dry earth and closed his eyes, surrendering to the quiet. He slowed his breath, letting the world around him fade until all that remained was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He reached inward, deeper than conscious thought, searching for the force that lay dormant within him.
At first, there was nothing but silence—a vast and empty void. Then, something shifted.
A pulse. A slow, rhythmic thrum beneath his ribs, matching the stillness around him. He felt it like a whisper curling at the edges of his awareness, neither fire nor wind, neither earth nor water. It was colder, more elusive. The darkness around him pulsed in response, a quiet shudder rippling through the shadows cast by the ruined landscape.
Then, they moved.
A tendril of shadow rose from the ground, curling like ink in water, drawn toward him as though he had beckoned it. Solace's breath hitched. The darkness slithered, weaving around his fingers before dissolving into nothing.
His element was darkness.
His heart pounded, excitement warring with unease. The stories spoke of those gifted with elemental abilities—of fire-wielders who could summon raging infernos, of stormcallers who could command the sky's fury. But the dark? That was different. That was unknown, dangerous.
His hands clenched into fists. Power meant nothing without control. And if he could not master this, he would fail the academy test. He had only a week to learn what others spent years refining.
Solace opened his eyes. The wasteland remained unchanged, but he saw it differently now. The shadows were not just an absence of light; they were something more, something alive. And they had answered his call.
He could not afford hesitation.
Pushing himself to his feet, he moved to an open clearing where the shattered remnants of stone and debris lay scattered. The night was beginning to yield to the dawn, but enough darkness remained. Solace took a steady breath and extended his hand toward the ground.
Come.
At first, nothing happened. Doubt gnawed at him. He pushed harder, focusing on the sensation from before—the cold, whispering presence lurking at the edge of his soul. The pulse beneath his ribs grew stronger, resonating through his limbs, and then, the shadows answered.
A tendril slithered forward, curling around his wrist before dissipating. He exhaled sharply, feeling the pull of it, the way the darkness obeyed his will yet resisted complete submission.
Again.
He reached out, willing the shadows to bend, to take form. This time, they held longer, swirling like smoke caught in an unseen breeze. But the moment his focus wavered, they scattered like ash.
Frustration burned at the edges of his thoughts. He clenched his jaw. Again.
Time bled away as he practiced, again and again, forcing himself to grasp the elusive power. The more he tried, the more he understood its nature—shadows were not forceful like fire, nor steady like earth. They were fluid, unbound, shifting with every breath, every thought. To wield them was not to command, but to move with them, to guide them as one might shape mist between their fingers.
Sweat beaded his brow as he pushed himself further. The shadows thickened, rising in tendrils around him, but their form remained fragile, fleeting. Several times, they twisted out of his grasp, dispersing like a mirage.
Doubt crept in. What if I can't master it in time?
He crushed the thought as soon as it surfaced. He would master it. There was no other choice.
Drawing a slow breath, he refocused. He had been fighting the shadows, treating them as something to be overpowered. That was wrong. Darkness was not meant to be dominated—it was meant to be understood, embraced.
He shifted his stance, easing his mind into the pulse he had felt before. Instead of pulling at the darkness, he invited it. And this time, the shadows did not resist.
They coiled around his fingers, moving with him, their presence like a second skin. He lifted his hand, and they followed, swirling and shifting, no longer scattered but shaped by his intent.
For the first time, Solace felt something close to control.
He exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing. It was a start, but mastery was still far off. He had no mentor, no guide to teach him the intricacies of shadow manipulation. Every lesson would be learned through trial and error, through failure and perseverance.
The first light of dawn crept over the wasteland, casting long shadows that stretched and curled against the earth. Solace let his power fade, watching as the darkness slithered back into the ground, as if retreating with the night.
A thought settled in his mind. Darkness did not simply vanish with the coming light—it remained, hidden beneath, waiting. It was not a force to be feared, nor was it inherently evil. It was simply there, a part of the world as much as the sun or sky. And now, it was a part of him.
A quiet determination settled over him. He had uncovered his element, but there was still much to learn. The academy test would come soon, and with it, a trial that would determine his path. He could not fail. He would not fail.
Turning toward the distant horizon, Solace whispered a silent vow to the darkness that had answered his call.
"I will master you," he murmured, the words lost to the wind. "Not as a weapon, but as a part of me."
The night was ending, but his journey had only begun.