The chamber was dim, lit only by candles. Thick stone walls kept their voices from wandering, just the way they liked it. The elders of Velmora sat around the long obsidian table, their robes heavy with age and power.
"She grows stronger by the day," Mordain Havar said coldly, his fingers tapping against the table. "The girl is a threat to the balance we've kept for centuries. If we don't act, she'll bring ruin."
Ithros Velkaar scoffed, swirling his wine. "A child with stolen tricks. She's nothing. All this panic is embarrassing. One clean blade to her throat and the problem ends."
"But you've said that before," murmured Sylvain Maelis, his voice quiet, thoughtful. "And yet, she's still alive. Perhaps it's time we asked why."
Mordain's head snapped toward him. "You defend her?"
"I'm saying she's different," Sylvain replied. "The people whisper her name already. Even those in the Merchant Quarters dare to hope."
"Hope?" Mordain's voice rose. "That girl's magic is chaos. She's Hollow-born. That alone should be reason enough to end her."
From the far end of the table, Elder Zephron Rael leaned forward. "The old ways were clear. The strong rule. The weak obey. This kingdom was built on law, not on dreams and rebels. The king is right to cleanse the Hollow-born."
Sylvain's jaw tightened. "And what if the laws are wrong?"
"Careful, Sylvain," Ithros said with a smirk. "You're starting to sound like a traitor."
The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of divided loyalty pressing into the air. Outside, thunder rolled over the mountains.
They all knew one thing: Solene wasn't just a girl with power. She was the spark that could burn their world to ash.
.
.
Sylvain sat in his study, lost in deep thought. The room was quiet, and only the flickering light from the fire crackling. His mind was racing, his heart heavy with worry. Something far worse than the king's rule, something more powerful than anything the High Rings had ever faced, was coming. He could feel it. It was a danger that no one could predict, and the king's power, the kingdom itself, would be crushed under its weight.
The door creaked open, and Elira, his wife, walked in. She looked at him, her face full of concern.
"Sylvain, you've been distant for days. What's wrong?" she asked softly.
Sylvain didn't look up right away. His hand rested on the desk, tracing shapes in the dust. Finally, he met her gaze, his face tired, and his eyes filled with an unspoken fear.
"There's something much bigger than the High Rings, Elira," Sylvain said quietly, his voice shaking with uncertainty. "Something worse is coming, and we're all in danger."
Elira stepped closer, her worry growing. "What do you mean? What's coming?"
Sylvain stood up and moved to the window, staring out at the city. His voice was low, but the words he spoke were heavy.
"I don't know exactly what it is, but I know it's coming. Solene, the girl..... is a force that's much stronger than anything we've ever faced. We can't fight it with the power of the High Rings. It's beyond us all."
Elira took a step back, her face pale. "What are we going to do?"
Sylvain sighed and looked back at her. "I'm going to stay out of it. I won't provoke anything. I've been watching the kingdom fall apart, and now I know it's too late. We can't fight this thing. If we push too hard, we'll lose everything."
He turned back to the window, feeling the weight of his words.
"I've been loyal to the king for so long, but now… this is different. We can't control what's coming. We can only try to survive it."
Elira walked over to him and put a hand on his arm. "You're not alone in this. We'll face whatever comes together."
Sylvain didn't smile. He just shook his head, feeling the weight of the unknown pressing down on him.
"I hope you're right," he said softly. "But I think we're all on our own now. We can't trust anyone anymore. The time for alliances is over."
The silence between them was heavy. Sylvain knew he couldn't stop what was coming, only wait and prepare. But the fear of the unknown stayed with him, growing stronger every day.
.
.
The afternoon light filtered through the dirty windows of Theron's crooked house. Dust hung in the air like a haze, and the scent of dried herbs and burnt wood clung to everything. The silence between the three of them was thick, until Kain finally stepped forward.
"Master Theron," Kain said carefully, his voice respectful but tired. "We don't have anywhere else to go. The guards are probably still looking for us. I was wondering… if Solene and I could stay here. Just for a few days."
Theron, who had been picking something invisible from his beard, suddenly paused. He looked up at Kain with those wild, sharp eyes, one slightly more sunken than the other. He didn't speak right away, just blinked slowly.
"You want to stay… here?" he asked, lifting a brow. "In this crumbling, cursed place? Where the walls whisper and the wind sings lullabies to bones?"
Kain hesitated. "We don't have a choice."
Theron looked at him for a long moment, then turned to Solene. His expression changed, just a flicker of something softer, more curious.
"She hasn't learned it all yet," he muttered, mostly to himself. "The power that's sleeping inside her... it's like keeping a star in a jar. Dangerous. Beautiful. Unstable."
Solene stepped forward now. "You said you could help me understand my power. I need to learn. If we can stay... I'll do whatever it takes."
Theron scratched his chin, then let out a strange little laugh, a dry, crackling sound. "You'll do whatever it takes, will you? Brave girl. That kind of thinking gets people burned."
Still, he waved his hand vaguely toward a hallway that looked barely safe to walk through. "Fine. Stay. I suppose I won't be any more cursed with company than I am with solitude."
"Thank you," Kain said with a nod.
Theron turned sharply. "But don't thank me yet, boy. This girl has a storm inside her. And I intend to wake it."
Solene felt a small chill run down her spine. She wasn't sure if it was his words or the strange creaking sound from the roof above them.
Theron walked away, but then turned back suddenly, eyes wide. "Starting tomorrow at dawn. We begin. No excuses. No running. You want to control it? Then you'll need to face it. Power like yours doesn't listen to kindness. It listens to fire."
Solene met his gaze. "I'm not afraid."
"Good," Theron whispered. "You will be."
.
.
The sky outside was still dark, the stars beginning to fade. The air was cold, and silence wrapped the cottage.
A loud knock shook the wooden door of Solene's small room.
"Up!" Theron's voice rang out. "The sun waits for no one, and neither does power!"
Solene sat up groggily, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She stumbled out of bed, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, and followed the dim light coming from the hallway.
In the middle of the cottage, Theron stood beside a large, dusty table covered with books, scrolls, odd stones, and cracked bottles filled with glowing liquids. Strange runes glowed faintly on the walls. A small fire crackled nearby, casting shadows that moved like dancers.
"You said you wanted to understand your power," Theron said, without looking at her. "So here we are. First lesson, power doesn't come when you call it like a dog. It comes when you force it to listen."
Solene blinked. "I've tried. I don't know how to..."
"Then stop trying," Theron snapped. "Feel. Remember. Magic is not just light and flames. It is memory. It is pain. It is will."
He opened a heavy book and slammed it on the table. "This is ancient Velmoran script. Lost to most. These words, when spoken with purpose, can open what's locked inside you. But if your heart is not steady, it'll eat you alive."
He handed her a stone with markings that shimmered like moonlight.
"Focus on the stone. And repeat after me."
He began chanting softly:
"Alka voren sira. Velmara se'nor. Nyth al'therra… rise."
Solene swallowed, then repeated the words. Her voice trembled at first, but Theron nodded.
"Again."
She did. And again. Louder this time.
Suddenly, her fingers tingled. Her heartbeat quickened. The stone grew warm in her palm.
"Good," Theron said, eyes sharp. "Now, remember what you felt the first time your power awakened. In the pit. In the streets. In the fire."
Solene closed her eyes.
She saw the flames in the pit. The smoke. The fear. The moment she survived when she shouldn't have. The moment power had chosen her.
And then it happened.
A gust of wind swept through the room. The fire in the hearth flared. Her eyes snapped open, glowing faintly gold.
From her fingertips, small streams of fire and ice danced together in perfect balance. The ground beneath her shimmered with light. Sparks crackled in the air.
Kain, standing by the doorway, stared in shock.
"She did it," he whispered.
Solene gasped, trembling. She held her hands out, and the power responded again. A swirl of ice curled through her left palm, while fire flickered in her right.
"I can do it again," she said breathlessly. "I can feel it."
Theron smiled, not kindly, but deeply.
"Yes," he said. "Because it was never gone. Only buried. But don't celebrate too soon, girl. What you've awakened is only the beginning."
Solene looked at him, eyes bright with wonder.
"What do you mean?"
Theron turned, walking toward a shelf of older books. "Each piece of power you absorbed came from pain. From battle. You've been collecting magic like broken glass. Now, you must learn to piece it together, without cutting yourself in the process."
He placed an old map on the table.
"To defeat the king, to stand against what's coming, you must understand everything about what you are. What you're becoming."
Solene nodded, her chest rising and falling fast. "Then teach me."
Theron's voice softened just a little. "I will. But remember this, Solene…"
He looked her dead in the eye.
"Power is not what makes you dangerous. Knowing when to use it, that's what will make you unstoppable."