The next morning, Eson awoke to the sound of cracking embers. His body felt heavier than usual, as if an unseen weight pressed down on his chest. When he glanced at his palm, the sigil etched there glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
"What is this… thing?" he muttered, tracing the swirling pattern with trembling fingers. The memory of Noah's cryptic warning lingered in his mind, but curiosity outweighed fear. Whatever this "Soulfire" was, it had already begun to change him.
Noah stood nearby, leaning against a jagged rock formation while studying an ancient tome bound in black leather. Without looking up, he spoke. "That mark is the first step in awakening your Soulfire. It binds you to the energy that flows through this cursed land. But make no mistake—it is not a gift. It is a burden."
Eson scowled. "A burden I'll gladly bear if it makes me stronger."
The mage raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. "Strength comes at a price, boy. Each drop of Soulfire you draw will consume a piece of your essence. Push too far, and you'll burn yourself alive from the inside out."
Noah gestured toward a barren patch of ground littered with shards of crystal similar to the one Eson had touched the night before. "Begin here. Focus on the sigil in your hand. Let it guide you to the latent energy buried beneath the surface."
Eson hesitated for a moment, then crouched down and placed his palm flat against the earth. At first, nothing happened. Frustration bubbled within him, and he clenched his teeth, willing something—anything—to occur.
Then, he felt it: a faint vibration, like the hum of a distant storm. Slowly, tendrils of blue light began to rise from the ground, twisting around his arm like serpents made of flame. They seared his skin, leaving trails of ash in their wake, but Eson gritted his teeth and endured the pain.
"You're doing better than most," Noah remarked, his tone indifferent. "But don't get cocky. Drawing Soulfire is only the beginning. Learning to wield it without destroying yourself? That's where the real challenge lies."
As if to prove his point, one of the tendrils suddenly flared brighter, sending a jolt of agony through Eson's body. He cried out and stumbled backward, clutching his arm. The sigil on his palm now burned so intensely that smoke curled upward from his flesh.
"Control your emotions," Noah snapped. "Fear, anger, desperation—they feed the flames. If you cannot master yourself, the Soulfire will consume you."
Before Eson could respond, a distant rumble shook the ground. Both he and Noah turned toward the horizon, where a column of black smoke rose into the sky. Shadows moved within the haze—figures clad in dark armor, their weapons gleaming with unnatural light.
"They've found us," Noah said, his tone tense for the first time. "The Emberguard. Servants of the Emberlords sent to retrieve any stray fragments of the Eternal Flame—and eliminate anyone foolish enough to tamper with them."
Eson's heart raced as adrenaline surged through him. "What do we do?"
Noah gripped his staff tightly, his eyes narrowing. "You run. Find shelter and continue your training. As for me…" He smirked bitterly. "I have unfinished business with these wretches."
With that, the mage stepped forward, raising his staff. A wave of blue fire erupted from the ground, forming a barrier between them and the approaching soldiers. "Go, boy! Prove to me that you're worth saving!"
Eson hesitated, torn between loyalty and survival. But as the sounds of battle echoed behind him, he knew there was only one choice. Clutching his burning palm, he ran into the shadows, vowing to return stronger—and more dangerous.