Storm

The next morning I stood at the front door— dressed,packed and very much not happy.I don't know why I am dressed or where I'm going to.

Mom stood beside me, her expression unreadable—calm, composed, and determined.

I was expecting something bad. I just prayed it would be something I could handle.

"You'll be staying with Albert,".

I stared at her. "Do I have a say in this?"

"No."

Figures.

Uncle Albert's place wasn't far—just a few cities west of the Empire capital—but still. The man lived surrounded by strange artifacts, shady business associates, and an ever-changing list of pets that may or may not have been legal. And now I was supposed to train there?

My mother had already contacted him the night before, explaining what happened on Mount Emberwatch. The storm. The lightning. The fact that I almost exploded. And like some twisted reward for my efforts, she'd decided the best course of action was to drop me off with the blind merchant who once tried to sell a "cursed flute" to a palace guard.

Wonderful.

I barely had time to finish tying my boots before the front gate creaked open.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered.

Albert strolled in like he owned the place. Same dark robes,and of course, a fruit basket swinging from his arm.

"Morning," he said cheerfully, his voice raspy but warm. "Smells like someone's been cooking disappointment for breakfast."

"Albert," my mother greeted him curtly.

He tilted his head toward me, then sniffed. "And there he is. The boy who called lightning from the sky. You still sparking, or has the storm passed?"

I didn't answer.

"I told you what happened. The surge on Emberwatch was stronger than either of us expected. We can't risk another episode in the city." Mom said.

Albert sighed, setting the basket on the table. "Well... It's not like I didn't see this coming someday. I just prayed it wouldn't cause such a commotion. But here we are."

He turned his head toward me—those empty eyes still managing to feel like they saw everything.

"You'll be staying with me for the next couple of weeks."

I gaped. "Two weeks?! You said the camp starts in a few days—I can't miss anything!"

Albert raised a finger. "Boy, your 'resumption' depends entirely on whether we can suppress that living thunderstorm inside your ribs. So if you want to show up at camp without electrocuting half the Empire, pray we find a solution fast."

I groaned, already slumping. "Great. Can't wait."

I glanced at my mother, hoping—begging—for some kind of intervention. A last-minute change of plan. Even a hint of regret.

She only gave me a small nod and lifted my bag without a word.

So that was that.

As we stepped outside, I watched her secure my pack to the carriage Albert had brought. Old thing. Wooden wheels, creaky frame. He could teleport us—he's done it before. So I asked.

"Can't you just teleport us there?" I muttered. "Like you did with the—"

"No," Albert cut in smoothly. "Those talismans cost more than your life insurance. I'm not wasting that kind of experience on a scenic ride."

Carriage it is."

I sighed, hanging my head. "Of course."

"Head up, boy," Albert said, clapping my back as he climbed into the driver's seat. "The mountain made you glow. Maybe with a little luck, I can help you not explode."

"Comforting," I muttered, climbing into the back.

My mother stepped up one last time, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Learn everything you can. Don't be reckless. I'll come visit before camp starts."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. She stepped back, and Albert snapped the reins.

As the carriage pulled away from our street, I leaned out just enough to watch the house shrink behind us.

…

The third town on the road to Duskwatch was a place called Ebbhollow—a sleepy little riverside settlement nestled between low hills and mist-covered woods. It was the kind of place merchants passed through without stopping, and travelers only remembered for its eerie quiet.

We had already passed two larger towns—Harnesse and Virelock—both uneventful, just inns and food and Albert somehow bartering a man down from four silver to a pear. I hadn't expected anything different from Ebbhollow.

Until we saw the smoke.

Albert's carriage rolled to a stop at the crest of a hill. Below, the town looked... off. Thin trails of smoke drifted into the sky—too thin for chimneys, too wide for campfires.

I leaned forward,"There is a house burning."

Albert sniffed the air. "Burned oil.Something happened."

"Come on. We might as well check it out."

I followed, nervous but curious.

As we entered Ebbhollow, the streets were empty. Doors shut. No voices. Just the crackling of scorched wood and the sharp scent of burned leather. It wasn't devastation—more like something passed through.

We found it near the town square: a collapsed cart, scorch marks along the ground, and three unconscious figures slumped against the wall of a tavern. One was a girl, maybe my age, with white-blonde hair singed at the ends. Two others wore gray robes, Arcana sigils faint on their sleeves.

Albert bent down beside the girl and checked her pulse. "She's alive. Drained, but alive."

I looked around. "What happened here?"

A voice rasped from the tavern door. "Bandits."

An older man hobbled into view, one arm in a sling. "They came from the woods—used some kind of smuggled Arcana weapon. Firing blasts. Took what they wanted and vanished into the trees."

"They fought," he said, coughing. "But most of our guards were already gone for the season. These three" (he motioned to the unconscious group) weren't enough.

Albert straightened slowly. "Hm."

Albert crouched beside the white-haired girl, pressing two fingers gently to her neck. She stirred faintly, her lips cracked, eyes fluttering but not quite waking. The air still smelled of scorched wood and smoldering leather.

"How long ago did they leave?" Albert asked, voice calm but sharper now.

The girl winced. "N-Not long… maybe fifteen, twenty minutes? They were not normal.

Albert's expression barely changed, but I could tell from the crease in his brow he was calculating. "Then they're not too far," he muttered. "Their formation will be precise. Probably spaced. Probably overconfident."

Then he turned to me.

"You've been training, right?"

I blinked. "Uh—yes."

He jabbed a thumb toward the forest trail. "They won't be far. You want to sit in the cart while I patch wounds? Or do something useful?"

His words landed like a slap. No gentleness. No choice.

I couldn't rebel against that.

So I reached my anklets and bracelets ,removing the straps to reduce weight.

THUD.

The sound echoed down the empty street like a war drum. Dust puffed up from the impact. Both Albert and the girl stared at me, wide-eyed, like I had just ripped off my skin and revealed metal beneath.

"What in the moons are you made of?" the girl croaked.

I didn't answer. I just adjusted the straps of my now-light training gear and started pacing toward the forest. My limbs moved freely. The air felt thinner, quicker—like I was running with wings for bones.

Be careful, Albert said.

"Got it," I muttered, stepping into the woods.

The trees swallowed the light.

The further I moved from the town, the darker it became—branches coiling above like fingers trying to clasp the sky. I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaled… and felt for the wind.

Mom's voice echoed in my head: Let it push against you. Let it push into your thoughts. Then push back—not with force. With presence.

So I did.

A breeze tickled past my cheeks. Then another. Then something odd: a sharp break, like air cutting around an object ahead—someone moving swiftly but not too far off.

Got you.

I crouched, weaving through the underbrush. My senses reached farther now. Even the crunch of a careless boot, maybe a hundred feet ahead, was like thunder to me.

Voices.

"…should've taken the horses."

"Too loud. And we're not trying to be found."

"Doesn't matter. No one's coming after us—Ebbhollow's barely got teeth."

I smirked. Surprise.

I found them by a broken ravine, three men and two woman,one of them had an engraved sword strapped across her back. They were resting now, going through the supplies they'd stolen. One of them pulled a bottle from a sack and drank deeply. Another laughed, his voice echoing off stone.

They hadn't seen me.

Good.

I reached into my belt and found the stone mom gave me—the one attuned to wind. I pressed it to my palm and focused. Let the wind ripple through me again.

Just enough.

Just enough to nudge their senses.

A sudden gust blew through the trees around them, swirling dust and leaves. One of the bandits stood sharply. "What the hell—?"

I launched forward like a bullet.

The first man didn't even have time to blink before I kicked his legs out from under him and pressed my boot to his chest.

"Hi," I said. "Let's make this simple. Drop your weapons."

They all turned—three grabbed for their weapons.

The third man swung at me with a short blade—I ducked beneath the arc, twisting my body low and sending my elbow straight into his gut.

He blocked it.

His off-hand snapped up, catching my strike just in time.

"What strength…?" he muttered, even as my elbow drove him backward, boots skidding across the forest floor.

The other two were already on me—blades raised, eyes sharp, their footsteps thundering against the earth.

I barely had time to think.

Instinct kicked in. I threw up my hands and conjured a spiral of wind around me—meant to form a barrier. But the energy surged wild.

Too wild.

The gust exploded outward like a cannon blast. The three men were flung off their feet, crashing into trees and underbrush with guttural cries.

From the treeline, the others had been watching. One of them—a tall woman in a dark green cloak—stepped back, stunned by what she'd seen.

"Elements," she muttered. Her eyes narrowed. "This could be trouble."

She raised a hand. "Scatter!"

The group broke formation immediately, disappearing into the forest in different directions.

But I had already made my choice.

I went after the one with the engraved blade—the woman in the dark green dress. She moved like water through the trees, her steps light, evasive, almost practiced. She knew this terrain better than I did.

But I was faster.

I chased her, branches whipping against my face, boots skidding over damp roots. I gained ground, breath heaving, footsteps relentless. Still, she darted through the trees with sharp, unpredictable turns, like she was dancing through a battlefield only she could see.

Then—she stopped.

She turned, breathless—and smiling. "Take the blade," she offered, lifting it like a peace flag. "Just let me go."

"Do you think you're in any position to bargain?"

Without warning, she tossed the blade into the air.

My eyes followed it on instinct. Stupid.

Because the moment I looked up, I felt it—danger.

I glanced down just in time to see her aiming a rifle right at my chest. A deep glow pulsed along the barrel, Arcana-charged.

She fired.

I moved.

The bullet screamed past my cheek, close enough to feel the heat, to smell the burn in the air. I hit the dirt hard, heart pounding in my ears.

"That was close," I muttered, panting.

She didn't wait. She turned and started running again.

"Oh, no you don't," I growled, pushing myself to my feet.

I pushed off the ground with a grunt, every muscle screaming, every instinct roaring.

She was fast—but now I was angry.

Wind surged under my heels as I moved, not summoned but answered. It wrapped around my legs, propelling me forward like the world itself wanted her caught.

She was good. Quick. Slipping between trees, ducking under branches, vaulting over roots like she belonged to the forest. But I could feel the distance closing—step by step, breath by breath.

Ten paces behind.

Seven.

Three.

She glanced back—and that's when she knew.

Too late.

I lunged.

Tackled her mid-stride, and we crashed hard into the underbrush, rolling through dirt and fallen leaves. She struggled, elbowed, kicked—but I pinned her down with all my weight, one hand grabbing her wrist, the other pressing her shoulder into the ground.

"Enough!" I snapped.

She hissed, writhing beneath me. "You're stronger than you look."

"And you're slower than you think."

I wrenched the rifle from her hand and tossed it aside.

Then I spotted the rune blade, just a few feet away—half-buried in leaves from her earlier throw.

Still glowing faintly.

I reached over, gripped the hilt, and felt the pulse of its power shiver up my arm. Not just Arcana—but a binding rune etched along the blade's center. This wasn't an ordinary weapon.

"What's this for?" I asked, holding the blade where she could see it.

She went still. Her eyes flicked to the weapon. "It's not mine. I was paid to move it. That's all."

"Who paid you?"

She clenched her jaw.

I leaned closer. "Don't lie. I hate liars."

She scoffed. "You wouldn't kill me. Not with a blade like that in your hand."

"I wouldn't need to," I said coldly. "You've seen what I can do without it."Even I wasn't sure how true that was—but she didn't need to know that.

She swallowed.

I could feel her resolve cracking—just a little. Her body had stopped fighting, her gaze drifting to the side, toward the tree line.

Probably wondering if her crew was gone.

"They left," I said flatly.

She looked away. "I guess they never cared. Or something like that."

"I don't need them," she added, voice sharp.

"Well, that's none of my business," I muttered.

Then I punched her—hard enough to knock her out cold. She crumpled to the ground without a sound.

I knelt beside her, rubbing her face gently, checking for breath, a pulse—anything.

"Was that too much?" I whispered, more to myself than anyone else.

Did she deserve that? Probably. But that didn't stop the pit in my stomach.

…

When I returned, the white haired girl was sitting up now, sipping water. Albert raised an eyebrow when he saw me dragging the satchel and a person back into town, clothes dirty, one cheek scratched—but otherwise untouched.

"You're early," he said casually. "Thought you might get lost."

I tossed the satchel onto the cart. "No faith at all."

Albert chuckled. "Did you kill the rest?"

"Well , something like that."

He nodded, almost proud. "Good. We're not soldiers yet, Kael. Mercy is a weapon too."

I sat down beside the cart, heart still pounding. The girl gave me a stunned look—then a small, grateful smile.

"Haaah…"

I gasped, eyes lifting to the sky, chest still rising with each breath.

That… was something.