The training hall was dark, hollow, and unwelcoming.
Every sound echoed—footsteps, breaths, the faint hum of containment fields in the walls. The floor was padded but scuffed. Scorched in places. Stained in others.
Kael stood barefoot, sweat beading at his brow, facing his new instructor.
The assassin had no name spoken aloud. The others called them Specter—a shadow trained in the art of disappearance, death, and discipline. Their Void Arcana churned around them like invisible ink—subtle, precise, utterly merciless.
"You rely on instinct," Specter said in a calm, clipped voice. "Instinct gets you killed."
Kael readied his stance. Fire flickered at his fingertips.
"Instinct saved me in Poseidon."
"And instinct killed your family."
Kael lunged without thinking.
He never landed the strike.
A void-shrouded palm caught his wrist mid-swing. A leg swept his feet. The ceiling spun.
Kael hit the ground hard.
Three Hours Later
He bled from his lip. His ribs ached. His fire was sputtering, flickering like a candle running out of wick.
"Again," Specter ordered.
Kael groaned. "What is this supposed to teach me?"
"Control. Patience. Restraint."
They stepped closer.
"You think fire is about passion? Fury? No. True fire knows when to burn. And when not to."
They struck again.
Kael barely dodged.
"Void teaches emptiness. You must empty your noise. Quiet the regret. Or it will own you."
Flashback – Within the Void
During one of the final drills, Specter activated a Void Arcana field—an illusion-based zone that forced the opponent to relive memory, fear, and trauma. Designed to crack minds. Or sharpen them.
Kael collapsed inside it.
He stood in his family home—again.
Crimson banners.
The drake emblem.
The smell of smoke.
"Kael..."
His mother's voice. Distant. Familiar.
"Why?"
Then the fire.
Then the scream.
His father, charred and hollow-eyed.
"You let it happen. You burned us all."
Kael trembled.
But this time, he clenched his fists. Focused.
"No. I lost control... I didn't choose this."
He felt the void pulse around him. Cold clarity slicing through the heat.
And then—
Fire bloomed in his hands.
But it didn't rage.
It flowed.
Steady. Precise.
Reality – Outside the Field
Kael stood in the center of the ring, body shaking but upright. Specter watched silently, daggers still sheathed.
"He's ready," they muttered.
Behind the glass, Natasha watched. Her arms were folded, but her expression was warmer than usual. Evan stood behind her, sipping coffee.
"He's stabilizing," Evan said.
"And becoming something more," Natasha replied. "He's not just fire anymore. He's focus."
Later That Night
Kael sat in the showers, steam rising from his shoulders. Bruises mapped across his back like a second skin.
But his fire no longer flickered violently.
It pulsed with rhythm.
Luna entered quietly, towel around her neck.
"You okay?" she asked.
Kael looked up. For the first time in weeks… he smiled.
"Yeah. I think I'm finally starting to breathe."