When the light faded, the Azurekin were gone—scattered by the sheer force of the wave.
Daniel fell to his knees, panting. The orb dimmed once more, leaving only a faint sigil burned across his chest—a mark that seemed to shift between lightning and water.
His breath came in sharp bursts. The wind was thick with the scent of ozone and wet earth. All around him, the forest was torn apart—the trees leaning at unnatural angles, their bark scorched silver-blue. For a long while, Daniel just sat there, staring at his trembling hands.
> "I… I did that?"
He touched the mark on his chest; it pulsed faintly, resonating with the rhythm of his heartbeat. A gift from that nameless cultivator—one who had said he'd return in three years if Daniel could survive long enough to stand before him again.
The man's voice still echoed in his mind:
> "The heavens rarely give second chances, boy. Reach the core forging realm and forge your lightning core before you turn fifteen, and I'll make you my disciple. Fail… and the lightning will consume you."
Daniel clenched his fists. "Three years. That's all I need."
The sky above the mountains rumbled faintly, as though the storm itself had heard him.
He rose slowly, still weak from battle, and began walking. His home was gone. His mother—taken. The forest, burned and silent. The only path now was forward.
---
The next morning, mist rolled through the valley like drifting silk. Daniel followed a worn trail that led away from the wildlands toward the nearest settlement. His clothes were ragged, and his eyes carried the look of someone who had lost too much too soon.
By midday, the sound of human life reached his ears—hammering, chattering, the clatter of wagons. And soon, through the thinning trees, he saw it: Alderon, the trade town that sat between three rivers.
Tall walls of pale stone rose from the plains, their edges gleaming faintly under the noon sun. Flags bearing the sigil of three entwined rivers fluttered lazily in the wind. Merchants shouted from outside the gates, and spirit beasts of burden groaned as carts rolled through the dust.
Daniel paused at the gates. He had never seen so many people in one place before. Cultivators with glowing talismans on their belts, traders with beasts bound in spirit chains, and ordinary villagers haggling for food—all moving in a rhythm that made him feel both out of place and strangely alive.
He slipped through quietly.
---
Inside, Alderon was a storm of color and sound. The marketplace stretched endlessly—rows of tents, stalls, and shops, each displaying things Daniel had never seen: bottled flames, spirit herbs that shimmered with internal light, talismans carved from crystal, and beast pelts that shifted color under the sun.
> "So this… is the world beyond the village," Daniel whispered.
A vendor smiled at him as he passed. "First time in Alderon, lad? Don't look too lost, or someone'll charge you ten times the price!"
Daniel smiled faintly. "Thanks for the warning."
He moved deeper into the market, hunger gnawing at him. His last meal had been days ago. The scent of roasted meat from a nearby stall made his stomach ache. He reached into his satchel—only a few battered copper coins.
He sighed. "Guess I'll have to find work."
But before he could continue, a sharp voice rang out behind him.
> "Thief! Stop that girl!"
Daniel turned just in time to see a young girl in tattered robes sprinting past, clutching a small pouch of glowing stones. Two guards chased after her, yelling.
Instinct took over. The girl's eyes met his for a split second—violet, sharp, desperate. Then, without thinking, Daniel moved.
Lightning surged faintly under his feet, and in a blur, he stepped sideways, tripping the lead guard just enough for the girl to vanish into the crowd.
The other guard stumbled, confused. "What—where'd she go!?"
Daniel shrugged, feigning surprise. "Didn't see anyone."
The guards cursed and ran off in another direction. Daniel exhaled, tension fading.
> "You're either brave or stupid," a voice murmured behind him.
He turned. The girl stood there, half-hidden by a shadowed alleyway, her violet eyes gleaming faintly beneath her hood.
"Thanks," she said quietly, tossing him a small spirit fruit. "Eat before you pass out."
Daniel caught it, confused. "You stole this?"
"Borrowed," she corrected. "From those who overcharge the hungry."
She smiled slightly, then glanced over her shoulder. "You're not from around here. Your energy feels… strange. Wild."
Daniel hesitated. "Just passing through."
The girl studied him for a moment, then turned to leave. "If you're looking for a place to stay, there's an old herbalist at the edge of town. He doesn't ask questions. Tell him 'Mira' sent you."
"Mira," Daniel repeated, but she was already gone, melting into the crowd like mist.
---
By sunset, Daniel found the herbalist's shop—a crooked building wedged between two taller ones, its sign barely hanging. The air smelled of crushed herbs and smoke.
An old man with narrow eyes looked up from grinding roots. "You're the boy Mira sent?"
Daniel nodded. "She said you might help."
The man snorted. "Help costs coin."
Daniel placed his last few coppers on the counter. The herbalist eyed him, then sighed. "Fine. You can sleep in the storeroom. But if you break anything, you'll work it off."
That night, Daniel lay on a straw mat, staring at the flickering lantern above. His body ached, but his mind refused to rest. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his mother's face, the shadows dragging her away, and that symbol—the crescent devouring the sun—burned behind his eyelids.
> "Ashira mountain huh," he whispered. "Three years."
He pressed his palm against the faint mark on his chest. It pulsed softly, as if answering him.
Outside, thunder rolled again, far in the distance.
---
Days passed. Daniel worked quietly at the shop—grinding herbs, fetching supplies, and tending to injured travelers who came through. The herbalist rarely spoke, but one day, while Daniel was preparing bandages, the old man said, "That girl Mira—you should be careful around her."
Daniel glanced up. "Why?"
"She's part of a group that steals from the wrong kind of people. Men who wear black moons on their sleeves."
Daniel froze. "Darkened Moon Sect?"
The herbalist nodded slowly. "Aye. They have agents here too. If they're moving in Alderon, something dangerous is stirring again."
Daniel's pulse quickened. So they're already spreading.
That night, he went to the town's outer wall to train. Lightning crackled faintly around him as he practiced control—focusing on refining the energy, guiding it through his veins without burning himself. The orb's mark glowed faintly each time he pushed harder.
But then—
> "You shouldn't train out here."
He turned. Mira stood on the wall, her hair loose, eyes reflecting the moonlight.
Daniel straightened. "Why not?"
"Because," she said softly, "lightning is hard to hide. And some eyes never stop watching."
He frowned. "You mean the Darkened Moon."
She nodded. "You're strong for someone your age… but that storm inside you—it's loud. If they're hunting for the Primordial spark, you're practically calling them."
Daniel clenched his fists. "Let them come."
Mira tilted her head, studying him. "You really don't know how big the world is, do you?"
He met her gaze. "Then I'll learn."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the hum of energy in the air. Finally, she sighed. "There's a caravan leaving in two days for the northern valleys. The road passes near the Storm Cradle. You could travel with them—if you can pay or protect them."
Daniel nodded slowly. "Thank you."
She smiled faintly. "Don't thank me yet. The Cradle isn't a place for the weak."
As she turned to leave, Daniel looked toward the distant peaks shrouded in mist. He could feel it again—that faint pull, like thunder calling from beyond the horizon.
> "Then I'll get stronger," he murmured. "No matter what stands in my way."
Above them, dark clouds began to gather once more, and lightning danced faintly across the sky—answering his vow.
The tides are about to change