Kairen's heartbeat thudded in the sudden stillness of the grove. The air felt heavy, expectant. He stared at Sage Vanamali, the ancient man's words echoing.
"A seal…?" Kairen repeated, the word fragile. He shook his head. "That can't be right. My father… he told me it was my mark. Our lineage. A symbol of the Zephyrwind gift…"
Vanamali's gaze held him, patient, sorrowful. "Lineage, yes, Kairen. But not of power freely given—it is one of power restrained."
The word hit Kairen like a physical blow. He stumbled back. "Restrained…? Contained? What does that even mean? What power?"
The Sage's expression softened. "Words alone cannot convey this truth, Zephyrwind. Your mind would reject it." He sighed, a sound like wind through old stones. "You must see it for yourself."
He turned, motioning toward the Sanctum's heart. The swirling mists parted, revealing the towering crystal, pulsing like the sleeping heart of the mountain.
"Come," Vanamali said. "This holds your truth. The genesis of your burden."
Kairen hesitated, a primal fear coiling within him. The air around the crystal felt thick, charged, tasting like ozone and starlight. His pulse throbbed, a frantic counterpoint to the crystal's slow beat.
Vanamali approached the crystal, laying his palm flat against its cool surface. It shivered, humming low as its inner light bloomed in slow waves of sapphire and amethyst.
"This crystal remembers," the Sage murmured. "It is the memory of Aethelgard. The night of your birth… its echo still lingers."
The glow intensified, washing over Kairen. He felt an inexplicable pull, a sense of recognition.
"If you truly wish to understand," Vanamali said quietly, "then look. Open your heart. And remember."
Kairen stepped forward into the light. The grove, the Sage, the mists—they dissolved.
The world fell away.
(The Flashback Begins)
Thunder rolled across Azurefall's clear sky. Constellations flickered and warped. Rivers of impossible light—crimson, indigo, gold—tore through the night above the city's spires.
Inside the Azurefall Central Hospital, Elara Zephyrwind screamed. Pain ripped through her. Sweat pasted dark hair to her brow; her fingers clawed the sheets.
"The baby's coming!" cried Miriam, the head nurse, her voice strained. "Push now, Elara!"
"I—can't—" Elara gasped. "Something's wrong… Miriam, it feels like… it's burning—inside me!"
Her assistant, Lena, stumbled back as shimmering blue sparks crackled around Elara's form. The oil lamps flickered violently, dimmed as if drained.
"It's the convergence," Miriam whispered, though this felt different. Predatory. "But why here?"
Outside, chaos reigned. From the eastern watchtower, Magister Kellan stared into the celestial maelstrom. "By the Ancients… that's not celestial mana. That's raw cosmic bleed."
"Sir!" cried Apprentice Dorn, his face pale. "Energy readings off the scale! And… something's coming! From the Blackwood!"
A vast shadow detached itself, moving impossibly fast—taller than towers, radiating malice, its eyes twin points of amber light. Its roar shook Azurefall, shattering windows.
"What is that thing?" Dorn gasped.
"It's heading for the hospital!" another mage shouted. "Sir—it's drawn to the convergence point!"
Kellan's blood ran cold. "Torren Zephyrwind's wife… Elara… she's due tonight…"
He spun. "Dorn! Alert the guard! Full defensive mobilization! Shield the northern quarter! I'll warn Torren myself!"
Torren Zephyrwind burst through the birthing room door, robes half-burned. "Elara!"
She lay pale, shaking, alive. Miriam stood frozen, holding a small, swaddled bundle. The child was silent. Utterly still.
"He's not breathing," Miriam whispered. "Torren, he's not—"
"Give him to me!" Torren took the infant. He placed trembling hands over the tiny chest, preparing a revitalization spark. But before he could cast, a soft blue glow pulsed beneath the baby's skin, exploding outward in blinding white energy.
Torren staggered back. "What—?"
The stone floor trembled violently. Ceiling lamps exploded. Outside, the monster's roar echoed again, impossibly closer.
"Torren!" Magister Kellan appeared in the shattered doorway, panting, staff crackling. "The creature—it's breaking through! It's draining our spells! We can't stop it!"
Elara's eyes fluttered open. "Our son…" she whispered.
The walls cracked. Through a fissure, they saw a column of searing red energy melting the street outside, heading directly for them.
Torren didn't hesitate. Scooping up Elara and the faintly glowing baby, he turned. "We have to move! Now!"
They fled through collapsing corridors—fire, screams, the monster's roar like doom's drumbeat. The creature's shadow fell over the building, its horns scraping the clouds.
Suddenly, as they burst into the ravaged street, a column of blinding white energy erupted from the child in Torren's arms. It wasn't mana—it shot skyward, then bent, intercepting the monster's red beam. This was pure reality, bending existence. The ground beneath its path crystallized into strange, pulsing minerals. The air shimmered with impossible colors.
The power was absolute. The baby's beam neutralized the monster's attack, surged forward, and struck the creature. Where the white light touched, the beast didn't die—it simply unraveled. Its essence dissipated into nothingness.
The night fell eerily silent. Fires bent backward, extinguished. Time stopped.
Then, the world exhaled. The last motes of white light drifted away.
Magister Kellan, attempting to reinforce a ward near the Temple of the Dawn entrance, felt the residual blast tear through his defenses. He stumbled inside just as the shockwave hit. The floor buckled. He raised his staff—but the secondary surge hurled him across the chamber. His head struck a pillar; darkness swallowed him.
Torren shouted Kellan's name, but only a low hum answered, building in the temple air. The temperature plummeted. The stones shimmered, light bending unnaturally.
From the heart of that stillness, light took shape.
A figure stepped forth—tall, robed in flowing white, eyes pools of ancient calm. Reality bent around him.
Torren stared, trembling. "Vanamali…? The Vanished Sage…?"
The being inclined his head, his voice like wind over deep water. "You call, and I answer, Torren Zephyrwind. The veil thins… I felt the ripple."
"The child—my son—" Torren stammered, gesturing to the infant beside the unconscious Elara. "His power—unstable! He just…"
Vanamali approached. The infant glowed faintly, blue threads pulsing beneath his skin. The Sage gazed down, awe and sorrow in his ancient face.
"This is no mortal gift," Vanamali murmured. "This is Essence before time, the Cosmic Breath itself bound within mortal flesh. Uncontrolled."
Elara's faint voice reached them. "Please… save him."
Vanamali turned to Torren. "You are his father?" Torren nodded. "Then your life must anchor his. There is no other way."
With a fluid motion, Vanamali raised a hand. Runes blazed across the temple doorway, sealing the inner sanctum with shimmering energy.
Outside, Kellan stirred, groaning. He saw only blinding light beneath the sealed door, heard an ancient, thunderous voice, then silence again. He drifted back into unconsciousness.
Inside, Vanamali spread his hands. The temple floor flared with complex sigils, spinning into a mandala of light. "Place the child here."
Torren obeyed, laying the infant upon the glowing circle.
"Seven candles of starlight wax," Vanamali intoned, conjuring them. "A circle of sanctified water." He materialized a basin. "And your blood—the seal's price. Your life force, willingly given."
Torren drew his blade and sliced his palm. Crimson fell onto the circle, igniting it into a storm of azure fire and golden light.
Wind howled. Symbols blazed on the walls.
Vanamali raised both arms, voice deepening with cosmic resonance: "By the chains of the First Weaver! By the stillness of the Infinite Sea! Let the cosmos be bound within mortal flesh! Let the storm be calmed!"
The baby arched, light pouring from him. Torren gasped, staggering as the ritual latched onto his life force, pulling at his essence.
"Hold fast, Torren Zephyrwind!" Vanamali commanded. "He fights the binding! Your will must be stronger!"
The child's eyes snapped open—swirling galaxies, infinite, ancient. For a heartbeat, Torren saw all creation: worlds rising, suns dying—and his son at its heart.
"Vanamali!" he cried. "It's too much!"
"Then give more!" the Sage thundered. "The Seal demands balance—mortal love against divine power! Anchor him with your soul!"
Torren roared, pressing his bleeding hand flat against the central sigil. "Let my life be the anchor! Let my years hold him steady! Protect my son!"
A final invocation ripped from Vanamali, shaking the world: "Let a father's sacrifice bind what even stars cannot contain! SEALED BE!"
Light consumed everything. White. Absolute. Silent.
Outside, the unconscious Kellan felt the earth still. The monster's remnants dissolved. The tear in the sky healed.
When awareness returned, Kellan awoke amid ruins. The inner sanctum doors hung open. Inside, he found Torren collapsed, breathing shallowly, alive. The baby lay beside Elara (stirring now), asleep, breathing evenly.
Across the child's back shimmered faint silver lines—wings folded protectively. The Garuda Seal.
Vanamali was gone. Only the scent of lotus and starlight lingered.
Kellan dropped to his knees. "You're alive… Gods, Torren, what have you done?"
Torren's voice was a ragged whisper. "I… anchored him."
Kellan looked from father to marked child, confused. He saw the residual magic, the faint glow, and assumed Torren had used some forbidden ward—costly, but mortal. He would never guess the truth.
(The Flashback Ends)
The crystal's light dimmed. Kairen gasped on the mossy ground, shuddering sobs racking his body. He saw his father's blood, the blinding light, the Seal forming.
Tears streamed down his face. "He gave… his life for me," Kairen choked out.
Vanamali placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Not his life, Kairen. His years. A significant portion of his vital force anchors the Seal. The price weakened him, shortened his path. He lived guarding your secret."
Kairen clenched his fists in the earth. "All this time… I thought I was powerless. A failure. A dud." Shame tasted like ash, mixed now with shattering understanding.
"You were never powerless," Vanamali said softly. "Only contained. Your mark—the Garuda Seal—was the cage forged from love, keeping the universe asleep within you."
Kairen looked up, violet eyes shimmering. "Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't she tell me?"
"Because love and fear often share the same face," Vanamali answered quietly. "He feared for you. Your mother lived with the terror of that night always."
Kairen swallowed hard. "And now… the Seal is breaking. The fight with Kaelan… the island…"
Vanamali nodded grimly. "Yes. Under duress, the bindings fractured. The Essence leaked. Uncontrolled. Devastating. It consumed the island, Kairen. And nearly consumed you."
The Sage's eyes met his, sharp and serious. "Which is why you cannot return home. Not yet. The Seal is compromised. The power within is unstable, a beacon in the dark. Entities far older and darker felt that surge. They will be looking. Lord Malakor is not the only shadow that stirs."
Kairen's breath hitched.
"You must stay," Vanamali stated, gentle but absolute. "Here, you are hidden. Here, you must learn. Understand the Essence. Learn control, perhaps mend the Seal… before it shatters and consumes you, or draws annihilation upon those you sought to protect."
Kairen looked out at the mist-shrouded valley—a beautiful prison. He thought of his mother, grieving. Of Dain and Ilya, believing him dead. The pain was sharp, agonizing. But beneath it, layered over the grief for his father's hidden sacrifice, a new, terrifying resolve hardened.
His father hadn't just died for him. He had lived for him. His life wasn't just his own anymore.
He pushed himself to his feet, swaying but meeting the Sage's gaze. His violet eyes held a new, somber fire, reflecting the crystal's ancient light and the weight of truth. The fear remained, but purpose overshadowed it, hard as forged steel.
"What must I do?"