Kael's first sensation was the silence—thick and almost tactile, pressing in from all sides. He opened his eyes to a pale, misted chamber that defied the Tower's usual stone corridors. He knelt on smooth ash-gray tiles, etched with concentric runes he'd never seen.
Rising, he realized this place wasn't outside the Tower at all, but a pocket dimension anchored to Floor 1—a hidden sanctum woven into its foundations, reachable only by those wreathed in Scion power. The chamber's walls curved inward, fading into a soft, smoky horizon that suggested endless space beyond the circle of runes.
A muted light suffused the air—no source, yet never dimming. Every breath tasted of ancient stone and distant dawn.
Kael tested his footing. Solid tiles gave way only where he stepped beyond the runic circle, into a field of fine, silver ash that swirled around his boots like quicksilver mist. He shook the residue off, heart hammering.
Then a voice—soft, resonant, echoing as though spoken inside his own mind.
"Kael Faelwyn."
He spun. No one there, only the runic circle behind him glowing faintly.
"Who's there?" he called into the hush.
A shape flickered at the edge of the mist: a tall figure, robed in cloth that seemed to bend the pale light. Golden veins traced its arms; its face was hidden beneath a hood of woven dusk.
It stepped forward—silently—until the horizon of mist lay just behind it.
"You stand within my domain," the figure said, voice calm as sunrise. "A space forged into Floor 1's bones. I made it for moments such as this."
Kael's pulse spiked. "Your… domain? You mean a Scion can just carve out a room here?"
"Not just any Scion," the figure replied. It lowered the hood. Eyes of liquid silver and gold met Kael's. "I am Anuunra, Crown of the Unseen Sun. And you called me here."
Kael swallowed. He glanced at his chest, where the wildflower Sigil lay dormant beneath his shirt. "Why me?"
Anuunra's light pulsed. "Because the light you hide within mirrors the sun I carry unseen. You will awaken that light—beginning with the trial you face now."
Kael drew in a breath. "Trial?"
"Yes." Anuunra's words turned the mist to motion. The runic circle before them shifted—panes of mirrored glass rising like blades. Each one reflected Kael's face at a different angle.
Kael clenched his fists. "Alright. Then let it begin."
Anuunra inclined his head. "Step forward, Kael Faelwyn. Embrace the unseen."
With that invitation, the chamber settled into complete silence—save for the soft rustle of the silver ash—as Kael stepped into the first trial of his Origin Mark.
The mist-chamber shifted as Kael stepped away from the rising mirrors. Anuunra's form glowed softly at the circle's edge, and the walls rippled—revealing, for a moment, vast rune-etched spheres floating in darkness.
"Before your trial continues," Anuunra intoned, "you must understand what you bear—and what you enter."
The runes behind them pulsed in sequence, casting brief snapshots of other wielders—sigil-bearers at various stages.
"A Sigil is the Tower's gift: a catalyst for power, born of your spirit's deepest truth. Each Sigil advances through three known stages," the Scion explained:
1. Awakening: A heart's first bloom—raw, unrefined power tied to emotion.
2. Evolution: Conscious control, abilities woven into skill.
3. Ascendance: Mastery over self and element, where Sigil and soul merge.
He paused. The runic walls shifted, showing Kael's wildflower-wing symbol trembling.
"Beyond these lies the Origin Mark—not a fourth stage, but a new genesis. It does not add to your Sigil. It overwrites its limits, forging a power as intrinsic as your heartbeat. But each mark demands a trial worthy of its magnitude."
The chamber darkened further, then flared with projections of enormous spheres—floors of the Tower made visible.
"The Tower does not rise like a building," Anuunra said. "It expands.
– Floor I spans the size of Earth.
– Floor II approximates Jupiter.
– Floor III approaches half the diameter of your sun.
– By Floor V, you will traverse realms larger than any star."
Kael's breath caught. Continents drifted in silent orbit within each sphere.
"Each floor is a world unto itself, designed to test Sigil evolution in scale and scope. As your power grows, so does the arena of its trial—across continents, skies, oceans, even void."
Kael nodded, swallowing. "So a single floor could hold more challenges than a hundred worlds combined."
Anuunra inclined his head. "Precisely."
The runes dissolved into a constellation of branching paths.
"No floor has a single clear condition," the Scion continued. "Some demand conquest of beasts. Others unravel riddles woven into reality. If you clear by one condition, only your own Sigil path follows that route. Others may advance differently."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "So two climbers on Floor I could both clear—but unlock entirely different powers?"
Anuunra's glow brightened. "Exactly. The Tower reveals who you are… by letting you choose how you survive."
The constellations faded. The chamber returned to ash-gray stillness.
"Now you know," Anuunra said softly. "Your Origin Mark's trial will reshape not just your power—but your place in this Tower. Few endure it. Even fewer emerge whole."
He stepped back, hands folding into his sleeves.
"When you face the next trial, bear this knowledge in your heart. A Sigil grows like a flower. An Origin Mark burns like the sun you cannot see—but will carry forever."
With that, the space before Kael opened into the mirror-lined chasm. The shards gleamed with possibilities.
Kael drew a steady breath.
"Then let us begin."
The mirrored chasm yawned before him, countless glass shards towering like silent sentinels. Their edges caught the dim, ambient glow of the pocket realm—fracturing light into curious patterns that danced across the ash-gray floor.
Kael stared at his reflection multiplied a thousand times. Each shard showed a fragment: hope, fear, fury, doubt. He swallowed hard, stepping to the center of the circle.
Behind him, Anuunra's presence condensed into a single point of brilliant warmth.
"Sit," the Scion commanded.
Kael obeyed, folding his legs into the lotus position atop the engraved rune at the chamber's heart. He kept his gaze on the largest mirror shard directly ahead—his own eyes staring back at him, soul laid bare.
Anuunra held out both hands, palms glowing with that impossible, unseen sun.
"Receive."
Without warning, a torrent of golden energy surged into Kael. It entered through his crown, coursed along his spine, and pooled in his chest where his Sigil rested. The light was liquid fire—radiant, heavy, and utterly foreign. Kael's breath caught in his throat.
"Direct it," Anuunra's voice echoed, "into your Sigil."
Kael clenched his fists, forcing will against the burning tide. He tried to guide the energy down, toward the wildflower crest on his chest. But each attempt sparked agony—like dragging molten metal through fragile roots.
He gasped, tears stinging his eyes. The mirrors flickered with his pain, shadows and light colliding in tortured kaleidoscopes.
"Endure," Anuunra intoned, stepping closer. His warmth pressed against Kael's back, anchoring him.
Kael gritted his teeth as every pulse seared deeper. The foreign power battered his heart, tearing at the edges of the Sigil. He felt his spirit flay—memories of his mother's hand, the corridor walls, Allen's steady voice—all threatened to unravel.
Still, he pressed on. Inch by excruciating inch, he willed the light to coalesce at the Sigil's core.
Then, with a final, ragged roar, Kael plunged the golden tide into the Sigil.
A white-hot flash filled the chasm.
When it faded, the wildflower emblem lay shattered—petals and cages broken into shards. But woven through its fragments was something new: a corona of silver rays and gold veins, arching outward like wings made of light.
Kael's scream cut off in a choke as pain slashed through him one last time. Then the agony ebbed, leaving him trembling but alive—his chest aglow with a steady, pulsing warmth.
Anuunra laid a gentle hand on Kael's shoulder.
"You have endured. The Origin Mark is born."
Anuunra emerges beside Kael, footsteps silent on the woven starlight underfoot. The Scion's presence feels warmer than before, a gentle radiance guiding rather than demanding.
"Our work begins now," Anuunra says, voice calm yet resonant. "I will teach you how to wield Mutatio Caeli—how to let sky and bloom shape your power."
Kael turns, resolve and hesitation warring in his gaze. "Is using you... the only way to unlock or master this Mark?"
Anuunra's light pulses thoughtfully. "Not the only way. The Tower has many trials—some forged in fire, others in memory or sacrifice. Each path can awaken an Origin Mark. But few are as safe. Many demand far greater cost."
Kael's brow knits. "Cost?"
"To shape a Mark alone is to gamble with your soul," Anuunra explains. "You may succeed and grow stronger... or break under the pressure, your Sigil shattered beyond repair."
Kael glances down at the flower-and-wing emblem glowing at his heart. He breathes deeply.
"Then I'll learn your way," he says. "Better to walk with a guide than fall alone."
Anuunra inclines his head. "Wise. The Tower remembers those who endure... and those who do not."
They move toward the mirrored chasm's entrance. The shards gleam with possibility.
"Shall we begin?"
Kael tightens his grip on his knees and nods. "Yes."
—End of Chapter 23—