Chapter 4: The First Lesson
The next three days were a slow, grinding torment. The initial euphoria of survival had curdled into a pervasive, low-grade dread. Leander could feel it, a sour tang in the back of his throat that had nothing to do with the dwindling rations. It was the taste of fear, and it was everywhere.
He had tried to help. He had stood with Roric and a few other awakened, trying to understand what they could do. A young man named Orion could now shatter a stone with a single, focused punch. A quiet woman named Delia could move with a blurring speed that left the air stirring in her wake. But their control was sporadic, their powers flaring with emotion and fading with exhaustion. They were children playing with divine fire in a tinderbox.
And Leander, the one who had lit the match, had nothing to teach them. He felt like a lock that had been forced open, the key now useless in his hand. He could feel the hum of their awakened energies, a discordant symphony only he could hear, but he couldn't conduct it.
On the fourth morning, he found Elpis sitting alone behind the bakery, her knees drawn to her chest. Soot streaked her face, and a faint, acrid smell of smoke clung to her.
"I burned the bread," she said flatly, not looking at him. "The whole batch. I just... looked at the oven and it all went black. My father didn't say a word. He just looked at me like I was a stranger." She finally turned her haunted eyes to him. "How do I turn it off, Leander? How do I go back to being normal?"
He had no answer for her. The question was a blade twisting in his own gut. How did any of them go back?
The answer came not with a solution, but with another crisis. A shout echoed from the western wall, sharp with a new kind of panic. It wasn't the cry of a demon attack. It was the sound of internal collapse.
Leander ran, Elpis and Roric falling in behind him. They found a small crowd gathered around two men, both awakened. One, a burly carpenter Leander knew as Simon, had his hands wrapped in glowing, rock-like fists. The other was a lanky youth who was levitating several small stones, spinning them in a threatening orbit.
"You were supposed to be on watch!" Simon roared, his voice gravelly with rage. "You fell asleep! My brother was on that patrol! Your laziness got him killed!"
"I was tired!" the youth shot back, his voice cracking. "This... this power, it drains me! I can't help it!"
"You think that's an excuse?" Simon took a threatening step forward, his stone fists clenching. "I'll give you a reason to be tired!"
This was it. This was the poison Pythios had seeded. Fear turning inwards, becoming suspicion, becoming violence. Captain Vorlik stood to the side, his arms crossed, his face a stony mask. He was watching, testing. Seeing if this new "power" would save them or destroy them from within.
"Simon, stop," Leander said, stepping between them. His voice was calm, but it carried. The crowd stilled.
"Stay out of this, Catalyst," Simon snarled, the title a curse. "This is between us."
"And if you strike him?" Leander asked, holding his ground. He felt a strange clarity descend upon him. This was not about power. It was about control. "Will that bring your brother back? Or will it just prove that Deimos doesn't need his demons to make us kill each other?"
Simon faltered, the glow around his fists flickering.
Leander turned to the lanky youth. "And you. You have a gift that no one else had yesterday. A gift that could save lives. Are you going to use it to throw stones at the people you're supposed to protect?"
The youth looked ashamed, the stones clattering to the ground.
Leander looked at the gathered crowd, at their frightened, angry faces. He saw Elpis, her hands clenched, a wisp of smoke curling from her fingertips. He saw Roric, his own hands faintly glowing with defensive light. He saw Vorlik, watching, waiting.
He understood now. His purpose wasn't to be the strongest fighter. It was to be the anchor.
"We are all tired. We are all scared," Leander said, his voice rising to meet their despair. "This power isn't a weapon. Not yet. Right now, it's a test. The demons want us to fail it. They want us to break under the weight of what we've become." He met Simon's eyes, then the youth's. "Our first lesson isn't about how to fight them. It's about how to trust each other. If we can't do that, then we've already lost."
For a long moment, the only sound was the harsh wind whistling through the cracks in the wall. Then, Simon let out a long, shuddering breath. The rocky texture faded from his hands, leaving them looking raw and human. He gave a curt, ashamed nod to the youth before turning and walking away.
The crowd began to disperse, the immediate tension broken. But the problem remained, a sickness in the heart of the city.
Later, as dusk settled, Leander stood on the wall, looking out at the encroaching darkness. Roric joined him, leaning against the parapet.
"That was well done," Roric said quietly. "You stopped a riot."
"I delayed one," Leander corrected, the weight of the day heavy on his shoulders. "The fear is still there. Pythios is still out there. He doesn't need to attack us. He just needs to let us tear ourselves apart."
"And what do we do?" Roric asked.
Leander watched the last sliver of sun vanish below the horizon. "We learn," he said, his voice firming with a new resolve. "We learn to control the spark, or it will consume us long before the demons do. Starting tomorrow, we train. Not as individuals, but as one."
He finally understood the true nature of the barrier he had broken. It wasn't just a wall holding power in. It was a wall holding humanity's fears and flaws at bay. And now, he had to teach them how to live in a world without it.
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Author's Note:
The internal struggles begin. The real battle isn't just against demons, but against the fear and mistrust they sow. Leander is learning that his role is more of a leader and a unifier than a simple warrior.
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