Morning light bathed the training field in pale gold, soft at first, then searing as the sun rose over the peaks. Disciples had already filled the grounds — the clang of weapons, the rush of spirit energy, the crisp shouts of command.
Kaelen stood apart, hands loosely clasped behind his back, eyes half-closed. The warmth of the ember pulsed faintly beneath his ribs, like a second heartbeat.
He hadn't slept much. Every time he drifted toward rest, the whisper came again — gentle, coaxing, threading through his dreams like smoke.
You've seen how fragile they are.You could crush them before they even know they're dead.
He had silenced it each time. Or thought he had.But this morning, the whisper seemed content merely to watch.
"Kaelen," a voice called. It was Taren — the senior overseeing their drills today. "Pair with Eris. Sword forms. I want precision, not power."
Kaelen nodded, stepping onto the sanded platform. Eris, a sharp-eyed girl from the Fire Pavilion, drew her blade and saluted with a faint smirk. "You've been quiet lately," she said. "Don't tell me you're finally afraid of losing."
Kaelen's lips quirked. "If I do, I'll make sure it's entertaining."
They clashed.
Steel rang. Sparks flew as their spirit energy collided — hers a bright orange flame, his a deeper, cooler shadow. The difference had always been clear, but today, something had changed. His movements flowed smoother, faster. He could see the paths of her energy, not just the surface but the intricate web beneath her skin — the meridians glowing faintly, spiraling like rivers of light.
The ember pulsed once in his chest, and the world sharpened.
Every flick of her wrist, every shift of balance, every surge of Qi — he saw it all.He understood it.
Eris lunged. Kaelen parried, stepped aside, and before she could turn, his blade kissed her throat.
She froze, eyes wide. The rest of the disciples murmured. Taren lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
Kaelen stepped back, lowering his sword. "Your right shoulder," he said calmly. "You overextend when you twist the wrist. It leaves a gap."
Eris frowned, wiping sweat from her brow. "You shouldn't have seen that."
Neither of them noticed the faint curl of smoke rising from Kaelen's sleeve.
It wasn't until the next round that he felt the ember stir.A pulse. Then another. The whisper returned — not cruel, just curious.
You could do more than parry. You could break her stance. Her will. Her flame. Just reach… a little deeper.
Kaelen clenched his jaw, forcing his breath steady.He didn't answer.He didn't need to.
But the whisper didn't fade this time.
Eris came again, her spirit flaring brighter. Kaelen dodged — until the ember flared too. His blade moved on its own, spirit energy snapping outward in a sharp burst of red heat. It cut through her guard, sliced her shoulder lightly, and the smell of scorched fabric filled the air.
"Enough!" Taren's voice cut through the field.
The energy dissipated. Kaelen froze, staring at the wisp of crimson smoke curling from his sword. His hand shook — not from fear, but from the lingering echo of that heat.
Eris hissed softly, clutching her shoulder. "What… was that?"
Kaelen didn't answer. He bowed stiffly and stepped back, ignoring the weight of stares following him.
By the time training ended, whispers had already started among the disciples.Taren didn't call him out, but the elder's eyes lingered longer than usual.
Back in his quarters, Kaelen washed the ash from his hands. The water hissed faintly where it touched his skin — warm, faintly tinged with red light.
The ember within him pulsed like a heartbeat, pleased.
He sat by the window again, staring at the distant horizon. Below, the sect courtyard bustled — Joren's group training loudly, laughter and arrogance spilling through the air.
Kaelen closed his eyes. The whisper came softer now, almost fond.
You learn quickly, little spirit. Faster than those who were born here.Do you see now why they will never understand you?
He didn't answer.He didn't have to.
Because somewhere deep down, he already did.