The pursuit began almost immediately. Kaelen, huddled beneath a gnarled oak, heard the distant baying of hounds, the muffled shouts of men. Seraphina, it seemed, was leaving nothing to chance. She wanted him gone, truly gone, a shadow erased from the Valerius legacy. The thought spurred him to move, even as exhaustion gnawed at him. He moved with the disciplined precision of his sword training, dodging roots and weaving through dense undergrowth, but he was without Essence, without the innate power that separated mere men from true threats in Eldoria.
He ran for hours, until the moon was high and cold in the sky. He crossed a shallow creek, then plunged deeper into the wilderness, hoping to lose their scent. But the hunters were relentless. He heard the snap of a twig behind him, too close. He drew the simple hunting knife he'd managed to grab, a meager defense against trained soldiers.
Three men, clad in the black and crimson livery of House Valerius's personal guard, emerged from the shadows. Their leader, a grizzled veteran named Roric, held a glowing, Crystal Drop-infused short sword, its blade faintly sparking. "Lord Darius sends his regrets, boy," Roric grunted, his eyes cold. "But Lady Seraphina insists on… thoroughness."
Kaelen fought. He fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, with every ounce of skill his rigorous training had instilled. His blade darted and weaved, parrying blows that would have cleaved him in two. He moved like quicksilver, a dancer of death, striking and evading. He disarmed one guard, wounded another. But he was only one, and they were three, and they were Essenced, their armor hard, their strikes imbued with subtle, shocking energy.
A searing pain tore through his side. Torin's sword, sparking with static electricity from its Crystal Drop, had found its mark. Kaelen stumbled, collapsing to his knees, clutching the gash. Blood bloomed hot against his fingers, soaking his tunic. He could feel life draining from him, the world blurring at the edges. The guards closed in, their faces grim. Torin raised his sword for the killing blow.
No!
A flash of silvery-white light exploded from the small wooden cage beside him. Luna. The Moonhorn Rabbit, usually so quiet, now pulsed with an ethereal glow. It leapt from the cage, no longer a mere pet, but something more. Its horn, thin and spiraled, radiated an ancient, profound energy. The guards recoiled, startled by the unexpected surge of pure Aether.
Luna, sensing Kaelen's imminent demise, acted. She pressed her horn, now shimmering with a vibrant, liquid light, against Kaelen's bleeding wound. A wave of cool, soothing energy flooded Kaelen's body, chasing away the burning pain. His wound, previously gushing, began to close and mend with impossible speed. He felt life surge back into him, warmth returning to his limbs, his vision sharpening. The Moonhorn Rabbit was performing a voluntary Tier 4 Essence transfer, pouring its very life force into him, a silent, powerful sacrifice.
The guards, recovering from their shock, lunged. But Kaelen was different. He felt the Essence now, the gentle, nurturing power of the Moonhorn Rabbit coursing through his veins, not a raging inferno, but a deep, healing spring. He raised his hand instinctively, and a soft, silvery glow emanated from his palm. He pushed it towards Torin's blade. The energy didn't deflect the sword with force, but subtly shifted its trajectory, causing the blow to slide harmlessly past his head.
He stumbled to his feet, newfound power blossoming within him. But Luna…
He looked down. The Moonhorn Rabbit, its glow fading, collapsed, now just a lifeless, yet beloved, husk. She had saved him. She had given him a second chance, healed him not with the fire he craved, but with the subtle, life-giving power he never knew existed.
Kaelen roared, a guttural sound of grief and fury. He lunged, his simple knife now imbued with a shimmering, silvery light. He didn't strike with brute force, but with uncanny precision, his blade finding the weak points in their armor, his movements imbued with a sudden, unnatural grace. His Essence wasn't for destruction, but his rage was. He didn't kill the guards; he disarmed them, leaving them bleeding and stunned, their confidence shattered by his inexplicable power. Torin, clutching a sliced arm that refused to clot, stared at Kaelen with dawning terror.
"Tell her," Kaelen snarled, his voice raw with pain and a nascent power. "Tell Seraphina I'm coming. Tell her the hollow Ignis… now burns with a different fire."
Over the next few months, Kaelen, now a hardened survivor, buried Luna in a secluded grove, a small cairn of river stones marking the grave of his unlikely savior. He practiced his newfound abilities, learning to mend his own injuries, to sense the life force of the forest around him. He realized the irony: his family had coveted fire, but he had been blessed with life itself. He fully embraced his chosen name, Kaelen Ignis, a silent vow that his inner flame, though different, burned brighter than any Valerius could imagine. Driven by a burning need for survival, a thirst for justice against his stepmother, and a desperate search for belonging, he made his way, alone, to the nearest major Hunter Guild outpost, ready to register. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew one thing: he would never be a hollow vessel again.