The Path of the Forgotten

The city of Eldrinth had never felt so small. Kian could feel it—the unseen net closing around him. The Magi were searching. The guards were patrolling in greater numbers. The Shadowguard had vanished, but he knew they were watching, waiting.

But for the first time in his life, Kian wasn't running without a purpose. Now, he knew what he was. Godmarked.

A relic of a forgotten war. A survivor of a bloodline the Magi had tried to erase. And if he wanted to survive, he needed more than raw power. He needed control. He needed a teacher.

Kian knew every shadowed alley, every forgotten ruin, every passage that those who lived in the palaces above never saw. He moved through the city like a ghost, slipping between rooftops and blending into the crowds when needed.

But his thoughts kept circling back to the same question. Where do you find someone who knows how to wield lost magic?

The answer came in the form of an old name—a whisper he had heard in the slums years ago, spoken by those who dealt in secrets.

The Ashen Fox. No one knew if the name belonged to a man or a myth. A rogue mage who had survived the Magi's purges. A thief who could step through walls. A ghost of the old world, untouched by time.

And if anyone could teach Kian how to control what was inside him, it was him.

Finding the Ashen Fox was not easy. No one spoke his name openly. The people of Eldrinth feared magic—but they feared the Magi more. Still, Kian had spent his whole life in the shadows. He knew where to listen.

He followed rumors through the hidden underbelly of the city—a merchant whose wares never stayed locked up, a beggar who had seen footprints appear in the dust where no one had walked, a tavern keeper who swore she had once seen a man vanish into the night without a trace.

Every clue led him beneath the city. Into the Forgotten Quarter. Most in Eldrinth pretended this place did not exist.

It had once been part of the city before a great fire had swallowed it whole decades ago. Now, the ruins were a place of ghosts and silence, the broken remains of buildings overgrown with ivy and rot.

But Kian could feel it—something here was different. The air hummed with an unseen presence. Not loud, not obvious—but there. And then, he saw it. A flicker of movement. A shadow shifting where no shadow should be.

Instinct screamed at him. Kian, MOVE! He rolled to the side just as a throwing knife whipped past his ear, embedding itself into the wall behind him. He spun, heart pounding—More shadows moved. Fast. Silent.

Not Magi. Not guards. Hunters. Four figures emerged from the darkness, wrapped in gray cloaks, their weapons dipped in black poison. Bounty hunters.

Of course. The city was looking for him—and that meant coin. The first hunter lunged, dagger flashing. Kian barely dodged, his instincts screaming at him to run—but he clenched his fists. No. Not this time.

He raised his hand—and the air cracked. A pulse of invisible force blasted outward, sending the nearest hunter flying into a broken wall. He hit the stone hard and slumped over, unconscious.

The second and third hunters hesitated. The fourth did not. A short sword whipped toward Kian's ribs—too fast to dodge—Kian reacted without thinking. His hand caught the blade mid-air. The hunter's eyes went wide. The sword did not cut him.

It hovered an inch from his palm, shaking violently, held back by an unseen force. Kian exhaled. This was new.

And then—he clenched his fist. The blade snapped in two. The hunter stumbled backward, terror flashing across his face. Kian let out a slow breath, feeling the power beneath his skin coiling like a storm.

The remaining hunters took one look at him—And ran. Kian didn't chase them. He didn't have to. Because the moment the fight ended, he felt it.

A presence. A sharp breath. A voice behind him. "Not bad," someone murmured. "For a beginner." Kian whipped around—And found himself staring at a man who hadn't been there before.

The Ashen Fox; The stranger stood with his hands in his pockets, watching Kian with sharp amber eyes. His robes were tattered gray, blending into the ruins around him. His face was lined with age but unreadable.

Kian didn't sense magic coming from him—no visible power, no hum in the air.

And yet—Something about him felt different. "You move well," the man said, nodding toward the fallen bounty hunter. "But you lack control."

Kian swallowed, still catching his breath. "Who are you?" The man tilted his head. "You already know." Kian hesitated. "The Ashen Fox." The man sighed. "I hate that name."You hate the name?" Kian echoed. "There are people who think you don't even exist." Good," the man said. "Means I've been doing my job."

Kian stared at him. "I need to learn." The Ashen Fox's gaze darkened. "Magic is death in this city, boy," he murmured. "You should be running. Not looking for ghosts."

Kian clenched his fists. "I don't have a choice."A long silence. Then, the Ashen Fox smiled—sharp as a knife. "Then I suppose you are the fool I've been waiting for."

Kian followed the Ashen Fox through the ruins of the Forgotten Quarter, moving carefully through the crumbling streets.

At last, they reached a place that should not exist. A hidden chamber beneath the ruins, tucked away beneath layers of collapsed stone. It was not much—just a single open room filled with scattered books, old maps, and relics from a time long forgotten.

But the moment Kian stepped inside, he felt it. Magic. It hung in the air like a living thing, soft but undeniable, like the last echo of a dream before waking.

The Ashen Fox turned to face him, pulling down his hood. "You want to control your power?" he asked. Kian nodded. "Then you must first understand it."

The Ashen Fox lifted his hand. At once, the shadows around him shifted, twisting and moving as if alive. Kian's breath caught. "You are Godmarked," the Ashen Fox murmured. "That means you carry the last traces of true magic—something this world tried to erase."

Kian swallowed hard. "Then… why do I feel like I can barely use it?" The Ashen Fox smiled. "Because you are unshaped. A blade without an edge. A storm without direction." His amber eyes gleamed. "But I can change that."