Days passed, and with them, the apparent calm of the Kingdom of Flavia began to unravel.
Yet, beneath this peaceful facade, something had shifted.
Issac felt it in the air, in the way passersby looked at him now, in the subtle murmurs behind his back. He no longer passed completely unnoticed.
Since his encounter with the mysterious man — a former comrade of his parents — Issac had plunged into deep reflection. That brief immersion into that strange inner space, that moment where he had felt everything, continued to haunt him.
A silent, infinite world.
A breath. An energy. A… consciousness?
He didn't know what it was. And the old man hadn't explained anything.
"You'll understand in time."
A cold phrase — almost cruel in the way it felt like a wall thrown in the face of his hunger for answers.
And yet, Issac hadn't given up. He continued to meditate, even though every attempt triggered a burning headache. He wanted to return to that state. To taste again that sensation of merging with the world.
Even if it hurt.
Even if it scared him.
One morning, after rereading the same page three times without understanding a single word, Issac headed to a discreet tavern in the southern quarter.
He sat alone at a corner table and listened. He hadn't come to eat or drink. He came to listen.
This place was often visited by academy students on break, curious parents, or youth hoping for admission.
And here is where he first heard the name:
"The Tournament of the New Cinders."
A grand event held every year by the Academy of Flavia. An internal tournament reserved for the most promising students, meant to reveal the kingdom's future talents.
The winner earned the title of Golden Flame, a seat among the student elite.
But this year, the excitement felt different. The tournament was approaching, and rumors circled of a clear favorite: the leader of the Eight Golden Flames, a certain Kael d'Arenor, cousin of the royal family and a fire mage with overwhelming charisma.
Issac listened intently. The more he learned, the more the veil around the Academy lifted.
A vast place, built in the heart of the city, its architecture inspired by ancient volcanoes.
A structure that was free yet hierarchical.
Training sections in elemental control, martial arts, strategy, and ancient history.
Rivalries between students, frequent duels, intense competition.
The Academy wasn't a peaceful place. It was a battlefield under control.
And Issac… would soon be part of it.
He left the tavern, deep in thought.
He finally understood why the prince had taken such an interest in his progress. Why the princess, always silent, kept observing him from afar.
She never approached. But she was there.
He never saw her, but sometimes, he felt her.
Like that day, as he walked down an alleyway…
— "How long do you plan to spy on him, Flora?"
The prince's voice echoed from the shadows, just behind a stone pillar.
Flora flinched, clearly caught. She looked away
— "I… I just wanted to see if he was okay," she murmured.
— "You know very well that boy is not like the others."
— "That's exactly what worries me," she whispered.
The prince said nothing. Then, after a moment, he added:
— "The tournament begins in less than a month. And the Academy needs fresh blood. Maybe… he's ready."
Flora didn't reply. She just stood there, eyes fixed on Issac's distant figure, walking unaware that they were talking about him.
In the depths of Flavia, rumors were flying.
They said a boy from the slums had knocked down a merchant with a single gesture.
They said he had meditated in the forest for months.
They said… he might join the Academy without even taking the entrance exam.
Issac knew none of this.
He continued on his path, deaf to the noise of the world.
But the flames of his destiny were beginning to flicker.