The Weight of Fire

The morning greeted Cynus with the smell of dew-soaked earth and the sound of birds chirping in the distance. His body, however, protested every movement. Every muscle ached as he trudged back to the training grounds, his mind swirling with thoughts of Kael's cryptic lessons.

When he arrived, Kael was already waiting, his arms crossed and his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. A faint breeze rustled his tattered cloak, and the rising sun cast his shadow long across the ground.

"Late," Kael said without looking at him.

Cynus stopped short, breathing hard. "I'm not—"

Kael's eyes snapped to him, cutting him off. "Excuses don't get you anywhere, kid. Let's go."

Before Cynus could catch his breath, Kael motioned toward a row of old stone pillars, their surfaces cracked and covered in moss.

"See those?" Kael said. "Today, you're going to learn how to hit something worth hitting."

Cynus raised his hand, summoning a small flame to his fingertips. The warmth steadied him as he stepped forward, facing the nearest pillar. He hurled the flame, aiming for its center.

The fire struck but fizzled out harmlessly, leaving only a faint scorch mark. Cynus frowned.

Kael sighed, stepping closer. "What do you see when you look at that pillar?"

"I don't know—a rock?" Cynus replied, confused.

Kael smirked. "That's the problem. You see an obstacle. Fire doesn't see obstacles. It sees fuel. You want to break that pillar? Stop looking at it like it's unbreakable."

Cynus gritted his teeth, frustration boiling under the surface. He summoned another flame, this one brighter, hotter. He hurled it again, but the result was the same—a harmless scorch.

Kael shook his head. "You're overthinking it. Stop trying to force the fire. Let it flow."

Cynus clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He closed his eyes, focusing on the heat building within him. He imagined the flame not as a weapon but as an extension of himself.

When he opened his eyes, the fire roared to life in his hand, brighter and steadier than before. He thrust his palm forward, sending the flame streaking toward the pillar. This time, it hit with a burst of heat and light, cracking the stone's surface.

Kael's smirk widened. "Now we're talking."

The training dragged on, each exercise more grueling than the last. Kael pushed Cynus to his limits, forcing him to summon flame after flame until his magic sputtered and failed entirely.

By midday, Cynus collapsed onto the grass, his chest heaving. His arms felt like lead, and his vision swam from exhaustion.

"You done?" Kael asked, towering over him.

"I... can't..." Cynus gasped, barely able to lift his head.

Kael crouched beside him, his tone sharp. "You think the world's going to let you rest? That your enemies are going to wait until you're ready? Get up."

Cynus groaned but didn't move. Kael grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet, his grip firm.

"Lesson three," Kael said, his voice low. "Pain is a teacher. Learn from it, or let it break you."

Cynus's eyes met Kael's, and he saw no malice there—only unwavering determination. With a shaky breath, he stood upright, his legs trembling but steady.

"Good," Kael said, releasing him. "Now, again."

The afternoon wore on, and as the exercises continued, a gnawing doubt began to creep into Cynus's mind. No matter how hard he tried, his flames always felt inadequate compared to Kael's. He couldn't summon the same strength, the same control.

As they rested, Cynus finally voiced his thoughts. "What if I'm not good enough?"

Kael glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Good enough for what?"

"For... for any of this," Cynus admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if they're right? What if I'm just weak?"

Kael was silent for a moment, then stood and walked to the nearest pillar. Without a word, he raised his hand and summoned a flame that burned hotter and brighter than anything Cynus had seen. He hurled it at the pillar, shattering it into rubble with a deafening crack.

Kael turned back to Cynus, his expression hard. "You think I was born with this strength? I was weaker than you when I started."

Cynus blinked, stunned. "You?"

Kael nodded. "Yeah. But I didn't waste time worrying about what other people thought. I fought, I trained, and I failed more times than I can count. You'll fail too, Cynus. But if you get back up, you'll get stronger. That's how it works."

Cynus swallowed hard, Kael's words sinking in. He nodded slowly. "I'll keep going."

Kael's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Good. Then let's see if you can crack the next pillar."

The Strange Flame

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the field, Cynus faced his final test of the day. He stood before the largest pillar, its surface scarred from years of weather and training.

Summoning all his strength, he raised his hand and summoned a flame. This time, it came more easily, burning bright and steady. He focused on the pillar, letting the fire flow through him, until it felt like a part of his very being.

When he released it, the flame shot forward, striking the pillar with an explosive force. A deafening crack echoed through the training grounds as the stone split in two, the pieces crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.

Cynus staggered back, his chest heaving.

Kael's eyes narrowed, his expression thoughtful. "That flame... it's different."

Cynus frowned. "Different how?"

Kael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he crouched by the broken pillar, running his fingers over the scorched surface. "Raw. Untamed. There's something in you, kid—something I've never seen before."

Cynus swallowed, unsure whether to feel pride or fear. "Is that... good?"

Kael stood, his gaze distant. "Depends on how you use it. But one thing's for sure—you've got more power than you realize. And that makes you dangerous."

Cynus felt a flicker of uncertainty but quickly smothered it. He wasn't dangerous—he was determined.

As the first stars appeared in the sky, Kael clapped him on the shoulder. "Go home. Rest. Tomorrow, we push harder."

Cynus nodded, his exhaustion mingling with a strange, simmering excitement. He didn't know what made his flame different, but for the first time, he felt like it might be enough to set him apart.