Kael
It's happening again.
The moment I open my eyes, I know I'm dreaming.
Not because the air is too thick, pressing against my skin. Not because the world around me is a vast and endless void. Not even because the silence here breathes, slow and deliberate.
No. I know because I have been here before.
The first night Elias saved me.
That night, I woke in a stranger's home, my body battered, my mind barely holding itself together. And when I fell asleep, exhausted beyond reason, she came to me.
The woman in white.
I had told myself it was nothing. A fever dream. The mind grasping at figments of light and shadow, twisting them into meaning where there was none.
But I had never been able to forget the way she looked at me.
Like she knew me, like I was something precious.
And the worst part, the part that had burrowed into my bones, the part I had never said aloud:
I remember what she called me.
"Kael, my son–"
Now, as I stand in this endless dark, my pulse pounds in my throat, a terrible feeling gnaws at my ribs.
She is here again, somewhere, watching me.
The shadows tremble, and from their depths, a shape emerges, pale and ethereal.
Draped in white, her long hair floating unnaturally, moving though there is no wind.
It's her.
The same face. The same red blood flowing from her eyes. The same slow, patient steps forward, dark red blood dripping all around her.
Her lips part, and the moment her voice emerges, it is both a whisper and a wail.
"Kael."
Something inside me twists, violent and raw.
I should run. I should not listen.
But then, she tilts her head, and her expression changes. Not anger. Not sorrow. Something deeper.
Recognition.
Like she has always known me. Like she has always been waiting.
I do not want to move, but my body will not listen. It is as if her voice is calling me, a moth to a flame.
I take one step forward, and the shadows all around me lash out.
A dozen inky hands surge from the void, wrapping around my limbs, my waist, my throat. I feel their ghostly fingers wrapping, squeezing, consuming me.
I struggle as hard as I can, but the more I fight, the deeper they pull me in.
The woman, that lady in white, watches.
Her lips part as if to call my name again…
But her voice splits. It is no longer a whisper. No longer distant.
It becomes a scream.
"KAEL."
I flinch. The sound drills into my skull, raw, desperate.
And then, her form shifts.
Her pale gown darkens, blood seeping up from its hem, crawling across the fabric in slow, blooming tendrils.
The hands holding me tighten their grip, pulling me deeper.
I cannot breathe.
"KAEL!"
Her voice warps. It is no longer hers. It is his.
The breath vanishes from my lungs.
Elias.
His body erupts from hers, shifting before my eyes.
Gone is the ghostly woman. Gone is that endless yet familiar sorrow.
And in her place was Elias, bound in thick, black chains.
Blood. So much blood. Seeping through his clothes, running down his arms, his legs. It pools beneath him, thick and dark, spreading across the void.
His chest heaves with ragged, shallow breaths. His eyes are dim, wide with something too raw to name.
Terror. Pain. He is calling my name, over and over again.
"KAEL—"
The shadows tighten.
I lunge forward, but they wrench me back.
"ELIAS!" I scream.
I fight against their pull harder than I ever have before, exerting every bit of energy I have left as I stared at Elias's bleeding body.
But the hands do not let go.
And Elias is still bleeding.
He thrashes, yanking at the chains, his voice breaking between gasps of pain.
He is dying. I feel it like a punch in the gut. And I can do nothing.
I try to claw my way forward, but the shadows devour me, dragging me deeper, pressing into my chest, into my ribs, into my skull.
"ELIAS!"
My body jerks upright with a ragged, choking gasp.
The room is spinning. My pulse slams against my ribs. My breath comes in sharp, uneven bursts.
Light. Too much light. The walls feel too close, pressing in on all sides.
Hands on my shoulders. I flinch.
"Kael."
The voice is soft, hesitant. I recognized that yellow voice immediately.
Karin.
I blink, my vision swimming into focus.
She kneels beside me, her brow furrowed with worry. Torren stands nearby, arms crossed but eyes alert. Marwen lingers in the shadows, watching me with that unreadable gaze of hers.
I press a shaking hand to my chest.
The shadows are gone.
The blood is gone.
Elias—
He's not here.
It really was a dream.
"Just a dream."
Then why do I still feel the chains?
Torren's voice breaks through the haze. "You were shouting."
I barely hear him.
Marwen steps forward. "Did you see something?"
Something about the way she asks it makes my blood run cold. Not did you dream. Not was it a nightmare.
Did I see something.
Because this isn't the first time.
My throat is raw. My voice feels too small. "It was her." Marwen's expression tightens, but she says nothing.
I swallow hard. "A white lady. I've seen her before, after Elias saved me."
A flicker of something in Marwen's eyes. Concern? Recognition?
Karin leans in, her voice gentle. "What happened? Who is that white lady?"
I hesitate. I don't want to say it.
I don't want to make it real. But before I knew it, I began to tell them everything.
The blood. The chains. Elias.
The moment I finish, silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.
Marwen just nods, as if my words were nothing more than another piece in a puzzle she was already piecing together.
"We'll figure that dream out later," she says, but there's something unreadable in her tone. A flicker of thought behind her sharp eyes that she keeps to herself. "For now, you need to eat."
"Marwen is right," Torren nods. "We have a long day ahead."
I stare at him.
Did they not hear me? Did they not understand?
Marwen crosses her arms, eyeing me carefully before speaking. "We'll start your one-on-one fights today," she says.
"You'll go against Rowan first. He's the most agile and light on his feet, which makes him easier to work with than Liora. Consider this a warm-up."
I don't move. My body still feels too heavy, my mind still tangled in the nightmare, the lingering echo of Elias's voice. But then the tent flap rustles, and Rowan steps inside.
"Well, look who's alive," he says, grinning. "I was starting to think you'd sleep through the whole damn day. What, trying to make up for lost beauty sleep?"
The tension in my chest coils tighter.
I don't answer at first, still feeling the weight of the dream pressing against my ribs, but then I catch the look on Karin's face. Worried, cautious, searching for any sign I might still shatter.
And Torren, who doesn't say anything but watches with quiet patience, a steady presence.
I exhale, forcing my shoulders to straighten.
I exhale, forcing my shoulders to straighten. If today is the day I break, then so be it. At least this time, I'll be ready.
Or at least, I hope with all my might that I am.
—--------
Rowan is fast.
Too fast.
One second, he's in front of me. The next, I'm airborne: flung backward like a ragdoll, the force of his strike sending me crashing into the ruins.
My back slams against jagged stone, pain bursting across my ribs. The impact knocks the breath clean from my lungs, stars bursting in my vision. Dust and loose rock crumble around me.
I barely have time to push myself up before he's there again.
Wind howls around me. A sudden, violent gust slams into my side, lifting me off my feet. I twist midair, bracing for the fall, but he's already waiting.
A blur of motion: a knee to my stomach, an elbow to my back. Before I even register the pain, I'm on the ground again, gasping for breath.
Rowan lands lightly a few feet away, barely winded. He raises one hand towards me, sending another sharp gust through the ruins, making the broken pillars groan. He rolls his shoulders, tilting his head with a smirk.
"Come on, princeling. At least try."
I grit my teeth, wiping blood from my mouth as I force myself to stand.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I lose. Every time.
Rowan moves like an untouchable storm. He barely even needs to fight me directly—his wind manipulation skills carry him just out of reach, his control of the air throwing me off balance at every turn.
He fights in quick bursts: strike, retreat, vanish. Never staying long enough for me to retaliate. His speed is impossible, his movements honed to perfection.
I can't even touch him.
Too slow.
Too hesitant.
Too weak.
I am always weak.
Rowan exhales through his nose, unimpressed. He rolls his wrist, gaze sharp, assessing.
"You know," he muses, tilting his head, "I was expecting more of a challenge. But I guess it makes sense."
My fingers curl against the stone, nails digging into the dirt.
The air around Rowan stirs, shifting in an unseen current, lifting him just slightly off the ground. A lazy gust curls around him, tousling his hair, ruffling his collar. It's like he isn't even trying. Like I'm nothing.
Then, softly, with a smirk that cuts like a knife:
"No wonder you couldn't protect that human."
The world stops.
The ruins, the sky, the ground, they all vanish.
Something inside me breaks.
A deep, consuming snap, like a taut rope finally giving way.
The words sink in, clawing their way down, deeper than skin, deeper than bone.
No wonder.
No wonder.
No wonder.
Elias bleeding out in front of me. His breath, shallow. His fingers, cold.
I wasn't strong enough to stop myself from killing Thom. I wasn't fast enough to save Elias. I wasn't good enough at everything.
My pulse roars in my ears. A sharp, splitting pain stabs through my skull, like claws scraping against the inside of my mind.
My hands tremble. The air thickens, pressing down like an invisible weight.
The earth shudders beneath me.
I taste blood.
Rowan says something, but I don't hear it.
Because suddenly, the world is too small for the rage inside me.
Heat. Darkness.
Power.
A scream erupts from me in a single, deafening explosion. A shockwave of purplish-black energy bursts outward, ripping through the ruins.
Stone cracks. The air distorts, rippling like heatwaves. The force sends Rowan hurtling back, but he barely falters. The wind bends to him, catching him midair, twisting around his body as he redirects himself with effortless control.
The sky darkens above us. The clouds churn violently overhead, spiraling like a storm, swallowing the sun. My vision flickers from purple to orange, overtaking the gray.
The ground splits beneath my feet. A cold wind howls through the ruins, carrying something ancient, something wrong.
And then:
A hush falls. A silence too vast, too deep.
One second later, the birds resting in the trees near the ruins drop from with a sickening thud. All at once. The insects stop crawling. The distant deer collapse. Everything that breathes near us, stops.
And then, they rise.
The sound of snapping joints fills the air. Hollow eyes flicker open, their bodies twitching unnaturally, moving like puppets with tangled strings. Limbs jerk. Claws scrape against stone.
A chorus of breathless voices fills the air, whispering, echoing, screaming.
Rowan stares.
For the first time, he looks afraid.
Torren shouts something, his voice nothing but undistinguishable sound in the chaos.
Karin's hands fly to her mouth, her eyes wide with sheer horror.
Liora stands frozen, dark eyes glinting, something unreadable in her expression.
Marwen does not move.
She watches.
But at that moment, I do not see them. I do not care.
All I see is Rowan.
All I hear is the voices: layered, echoing, a chorus of otherworldly whispers and screams entwined with my own.
"Die."
The command ripples through the air, thick as venom.
My hand rises, and the creatures lunge.
Rowan moves immediately, wind roaring to life around him. He flips backward, dodging the first wave, his blade flashing as he cuts through a skeletal wolf midair.
Feathers swirl around him, razor-sharp, slicing through the horde. He twists, spinning through the air like a blade in the storm, dodging, striking, moving too fast for the eye to follow.
But they keep coming.
The others join him—Torren, Liora, Marwen, even Karin—but for every creature they kill, two more rise.
Then, a stag rushed in, drooling with deathly hunger. Its antlers gleam like jagged knives, its hollow gaze locked onto Rowan. It moves too fast.
Rowan twists, but too late.
The stag's antlers spear into his side, tearing through flesh and muscle. A sickening crack fills the air.
A choked sound rips from his throat. Blood spills from his mouth, a thin red line trailing down his chin. His fingers twitch, grasping at the wound, but he's already falling.
And just like that, it's gone.
The rage. The voices. The pulsing, unbearable power.
The purplish-black light surrounding me flickers, then vanishes, snuffed out like a dying flame.
My knees buckle. My body caves in on itself, shaking. The glow in my hands fades, the last remnants of violet light flickering out. The storm overhead dissolves.
Rowan coughs, hands slick with blood. His breath is shallow, uneven. He looks at me, and there is no smugness. No confidence.
Only fear.
A silence so thick it crushes the air.
Then Liora speaks, voice hushed, disbelieving.
"This is impossible. No Thaneborn has ever commanded this much power this young."
The words don't reach me.
I can still see it. The way the life left their bodies. The way they moved when I called their souls back.
My breath rattles.
I stare at my hands.
At the fading purple light.
At the blood.
At the proof of what I have done.
What I am.
A monster.
Just like Thom said.