The morning sun had not yet pierced the horizon when Kaelen stood on the temple's edge, waves crashing far below the cliffs of Nerevia. The salt-laced wind tugged at his cloak, whispering ancient melodies only those attuned to the Aqua Arcana could hear.
After his awakening the day prior, everything felt different. Water no longer resisted him—it listened.
He held his palm out, fingers splayed.
"Forma Aqua," he whispered.
The runes carved into the stone pendant around his neck shimmered. Liquid mana rose from the ocean spray, swirling into a globe of crystalline water above his hand. He could feel its pulse, the rhythm of a living spell.
And yet, the spell trembled. Unstable. Raw.
Kaelen gritted his teeth, drawing on his mana pool again, envisioning the sigils and current flows his mentor had shown him. His breath slowed. So did the flow of water. The sphere hardened, became smoother, then burst into a fountain of steam.
"Too much pressure," he muttered, wiping droplets from his face.
"You're forcing it," came a voice behind him. Calm. Commanding.
Kaelen turned. Master Virell stood with arms crossed, robes fluttering like banners. The Archon of Aqua Tower radiated serenity—his mana presence like a still ocean that could become a tsunami in an instant.
"You don't command water, Kaelen. You request. Negotiate. Let it sing to you."
Kaelen lowered his eyes. "I know. I just… I can feel something deeper. Like there's a current below the spells I'm casting. I want to reach it."
Virell studied him with the eyes of someone who had seen thousands rise and fall in the Arcane Orders.
"You're feeling the Abyssal Vein. A forbidden depth. Aqua Arcana doesn't just flow on the surface—it remembers the ancient sea, the drowned magic."
Kaelen's head snapped up. "Can I learn it?"
"No. Not yet. The Abyss drowns minds not yet anchored in form." Virell stepped forward, placing a hand on Kaelen's shoulder. "Master the surface before chasing the undertow. Begin with the Flow Forms."
Kaelen knew what that meant: the base water spells. Mundane to some, but foundational to the Order.
That afternoon, he trained in the atrium, shaping spells with increasing finesse:
Flow Spear: A concentrated burst of water pressure, piercing like a lance.
Aqua Ward: A shimmering blue shield that rippled on impact.
Vapor Dash: He transformed into mist momentarily, slipping past an opponent's guard.
Each success built upon the last. But in the quiet moments between casting, that deeper hum still beckoned.
That night, restless, Kaelen wandered the Tower's lower halls. He paused at a sealed chamber door, marked by a rune shaped like a whirlpool.
The door opened.
Not with his hand. Not with any spell.
But with a resonance.
As though the chamber recognized him.
He stepped inside.
The walls pulsed with old magic. A deep blue crystal hovered at the center, suspended above a pool that reflected no light. It wasn't water. It was deeper. Darker.
Kaelen approached. The crystal began to hum.
From its surface, a ripple extended outward—and in the reflection below, Kaelen saw not himself, but a being of fluid shadow, crowned with coral and sea glass, eyes glowing abyssal blue.
It spoke a single word.
"Child."
Kaelen fell back, breath stolen from his lungs. The presence faded. The chamber went still. But something had changed.
Inside his Mana Pool, a second current had stirred.
Not just water.
Abyssal Water.
End of Chapter 3