The hooded figure circled Aeren like a predator sizing up prey.
"You shouldn't be alive," they said. Their voice was rough, but not cruel. "That mark on your hand? That's not family magic. That's something ancient. Something lost."
Aeren backed up. "Who are you?"
The figure pulled down their hood.
She was a woman, maybe thirty, with tangled black hair, silver piercings, and eyes that shimmered like molten steel. She wore a patchwork cloak of leather, feathers, and rune-threaded cloth. Around her neck hung a shard of crystal—cracked and glowing faintly blue.
"Name's Kaelen," she said. "Rogue mage. Emberwild guide. Wanted in three kingdoms and banned from six more. Lucky for you—I like strays."
Aeren blinked. "You know what this is?" He held up his hand, the glowing mark pulsing gently.
Kaelen nodded grimly. "That's the Eye of Kael'tharan. God of lost power. Or demon of destruction, depending who you ask."
"Wait—Kael'tharan?" The name he saw when he touched the orb.
"Yup. That little stone orb you touched? A sealed artifact. Ancient, dangerous, forgotten. And very illegal to wake up." Kaelen crouched beside him. "You're a walking beacon now. Your family will hunt you. Others will want to use you. Or kill you."
Aeren swallowed. "So… what do I do?"
She smirked. "You train. You run. You survive. And if you're lucky—maybe you get strong enough to choose your own fate."
Just then, the trees behind them trembled. A pulse of red magic lit the forest. Kaelen's smirk vanished.
"They found us."
Aeren turned. Shapes emerged—dark-cloaked figures, eyes glowing, each bearing the Elvaron crest.
Kaelen yanked him up. "No more questions. Time to move!"
They sprinted into the forest, magic flashing behind them. Trees bent, vines lashed out like whips, the entire forest responding to the chaotic clash of spells. Kaelen flung barriers behind them—circular runes spinning like shields—while Aeren tried not to fall.
Then a fireball ripped through the canopy above. It smashed the ground ahead, sending Kaelen flying into a tree.
"Aeren!" she shouted. "Run!"
But Aeren turned.
The world slowed.
He looked at the Elvaron mage stepping forward—his cousin Vaelric, cruel and proud.
"Come home, weakling," Vaelric snarled. "Before you embarrass us further."
Aeren's mark burned.
The air around him shimmered. He didn't think. He felt.
His hand lifted. Power gathered like a storm.
And then—
A wave of invisible force exploded outward, hurling Vaelric and the others back like leaves in a hurricane.
Silence.
Kaelen groaned as she stood up. "Okay," she muttered. "We really need to talk about that."