The first rays of dawn spilled over the jagged rooftops of Arathis, painting the city in hues of gold and shadow. The streets below buzzed with life—vendors shouting prices for fresh bread, blacksmiths hammering steel into shape, and Seekers strolling past with an air of quiet superiority. But none of that mattered to Kael Veylin.
Kael had always been invisible in this world of brilliance.
He stood at the edge of the meditation chamber, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his threadbare coat. His dark hair hung messily over his forehead, partially obscuring eyes that carried too much exhaustion for someone so young. Around him, other students filed in, their faces glowing with anticipation—or worse, pity—as they passed him by.
"Another day," muttered Jarek, one of the senior Seekers, loud enough for Kael to hear but not quite loud enough to be called out on it. "Let's see if our little failure can pull anything today."
A few snickers rippled through the crowd, but Kael didn't respond. He'd learned long ago that responding only made things worse. Instead, he clenched his jaw and stepped inside, finding his usual spot near the back of the room. The cold stone floor bit through the thin fabric of his trousers as he settled into position, crossing his legs awkwardly.
Meditation was supposed to come naturally. It was supposed to feel like sinking into warm water, letting your thoughts dissolve until all that remained was clarity. For everyone else, it did. Threads of shimmering light began to form around them almost instantly, coiling like living serpents before vanishing into their fingertips. Each pulse of energy brought murmurs of awe or smug satisfaction.
For Kael, there was… nothing.
Just silence.
Not even the faint hum of connection that others described. Just an endless void stretching out before him, mocking him with its emptiness. He closed his eyes tighter, willing something—anything—to appear. Minutes dragged on, marked only by the rhythmic breathing of those around him and the occasional rustle of robes shifting against stone.
"You're doing it wrong again," said Master Eryndor, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. Kael flinched but didn't open his eyes. He didn't need to see the disappointment etched across the older man's face; he'd memorized it years ago.
"Clear your mind," Eryndor instructed, though his tone suggested he already knew it wouldn't work. "Let go of doubt. Let go of fear."
Fear.
The word echoed in Kael's head, sharp and bitter. Fear was all he ever seemed to have. Fear of failure. Fear of being found out. Fear of never amounting to anything more than what people already thought of him—a waste of space.
"I've tried," Kael muttered under his breath, barely audible. "It doesn't work."
Eryndor sighed heavily, turning away without another word. That was dismissal enough. Kael opened his eyes, watching as the master moved on to guide someone else—someone worthy. Someone who could actually do this.
The rest of the session blurred together. By the time it ended, most of the students were buzzing with excitement, sharing snippets of the knowledge they'd uncovered. Kael stayed rooted in place, staring at the empty air in front of him. When the last person finally left, he rose stiffly to his feet and headed toward the exit.
That night, sleep eluded him.
His tiny attic room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as if conspiring with the silence that haunted him during the day. Outside, the city still pulsed with life, but here, alone, Kael couldn't escape the truth: he was broken. Everyone else could reach the collective consciousness—even Jarek, who wasn't exactly known for his intelligence—but Kael? Nothing.
Frustration boiled over, sending him pacing across the creaky wooden floorboards. Then, abruptly, he stopped. There was a way to find answers. Somewhere beyond the polished lessons of the academy lay secrets no one dared touch. Secrets hidden in the Grand Archive.
The archive was forbidden to anyone without clearance, but Kael didn't care anymore. If the sanctioned paths led nowhere, maybe the forbidden ones held salvation.
Slipping out of his room, he made his way through the dimly lit streets, keeping to the shadows. The Grand Archive loomed ahead, its towering spires silhouetted against the moonlit sky. Breaking in wasn't easy—it never was—but desperation sharpened his focus. After several tense minutes, he slipped inside, heart pounding as he navigated the labyrinthine halls.
It took hours of searching before he found it: a dusty tome tucked away on a forgotten shelf. Its leather cover was cracked and brittle, embossed with symbols that seemed to writhe under the flickering lamplight. Kael ran his fingers over the title embossed in faded gold lettering: "Codex Umbrae."
Opening the book carefully, he skimmed the first few pages. At first, it seemed like nonsense—rambling about primal forces and untapped potential. But then, one sentence caught his eye, searing itself into his brain:
"Fear isn't just a weakness; it's a weapon."
"What the hell?" Kael whispered aloud, leaning closer. His pulse quickened as he read further. This wasn't like the teachings at the academy. This was darker, rawer. It spoke of harnessing terror—not just your own, but the fears buried deep within others. Of bending them to your will. Of becoming something greater than human.
For the first time in years, Kael felt a spark of hope ignite within him. Dangerous, perhaps. Forbidden, definitely. But hope nonetheless.
And just like that, everything changed.