Chapter 21:

Harvey's world had shrunk to a haze of weariness and pain as he sat bound in the cramped transport carriage. Every jolt along the rough road recalled all he'd lost—the shattered remnants of his village, the echo of Julia's cry in the clearing, and the crushing guilt from that fateful burst of power. Amid his grief and exhaustion, one command had echoed in his mind: "Take this one to Duncan."

The journey to Abadon's outskirts dragged on. Days blurred as the caravan lumbered over barren roads, past fields stripped bare of life. Harvey's eyes remained fixed on the small patch of sky visible through the window, his thoughts swirling with questions: Who is Duncan? What fate awaits me in the capital? And what has become of Julia?

At last, the caravan reached a fortified encampment near Abadon. Soldiers quickly unloaded the captives, herding them through a maze of narrow checkpoints guarded by impassive, cold-eyed men. In the orchestrated chaos, an older officer's gaze swept over the group until it settled on Harvey. In a curt, commanding tone he ordered, "This one—take him to Duncan."

A ripple of murmurs passed among the guards, as if the name Duncan carried weight beyond mere orders. Harvey didn't know who Duncan was, but the subtle deference in their voices hinted at unusual influence.

Soon, Harvey was led through a labyrinthine corridor inside a sturdy stone building. Torchlight flickered on ancient walls etched with faint, arcane symbols—a reminder of a past steeped in mystery. At the far end of the corridor, in a modest yet dignified chamber, stood a man whose presence commanded quiet respect. Draped in worn, military-style robes, the man's steady gaze met Harvey's, though his expression carried measured uncertainty.

"Harvey," the man said in a low, deliberate tone, "I am Duncan. I've been told to expect you."

Harvey's breath caught. "Expecting me?" he repeated, his voice ragged with grief and confusion.

Duncan studied him for a moment, noting the restless flicker in Harvey's eyes and the heavy weariness in his stance. "I know you possess a power—a potential that is potent and perilous. I do not fully understand its nature, but I do know that without proper control, it can bring ruin to you and to those around you."

Harvey's gaze fell to his wrists, where heavy, rune-inscribed cuffs—designed to dampen volatile energy—bit painfully into his skin. "I've been forced to wear these," he said bitterly. "They remind me every moment that I'm not free to use what I have."

Duncan's eyes softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "In Abadon, we cannot afford chaos. Until you learn to master your inner self, you must appear as though you have less power than you truly do. I will not teach you a cultivation method, for that is beyond my expertise. Instead, I will train you to master your body and your weapon skills. Physical mastery and a steady heart have, in ages past, been enough to contend with even the mightiest of powers."

Harvey's jaw tightened with a mix of anger and reluctant hope. "And what of my power? The energy inside me… it gnaws at my strength, eroding me from within, leaving me weaker by the day."

Duncan shook his head. "You must learn self-control. Right now, your only means of containing that power is through sheer will. Until you can harness it without letting it drain you completely, these cuffs will remain both your safeguard and your prison."

Harvey's eyes burned with determination despite his grief. "Then teach me to control it," he said softly. "I can't keep living at the mercy of forces I barely understand. I need to master myself so that I never again hurt someone I care about."

Duncan inclined his head thoughtfully. "I will do what I can. For the next year, you will train under my guidance. I will push you in weapon mastery and physical endurance until you are strong enough to stand on your own. One day, when you have honed your body and steeled your heart, perhaps you will find a path to truly command the power within you. Until then, survival and self-discipline are your only allies."

Harvey absorbed Duncan's words as he was led to a small, dimly lit chamber that served as a training space. In it, a few other young warriors practiced under watchful eyes, their movements precise and measured. As he sat on a rough cot, the weight of the cuffs and the uncertainty of his future pressed heavily upon him.

In the quiet of the chamber, as the soft glow of torches danced on ancient stone walls, Harvey closed his eyes. Amid the darkness, the wild energy within him pulsed like a distant heartbeat—a promise of potential, a warning of peril. But as questions flooded his mind, he resolved to focus on survival rather than drown in self-pity. He would live by his heart, master his body, and ensure that he would never again let his inner demons betray those he loved.

Who was the guardian of the tree that once spoke of self-control? Why did that voice seem so certain of my power's danger?

And what of the entity within that shadow—a presence that saw me, dismissed me as insignificant, yet left me with lingering questions?

How can I continue after what happened to Julia? How do I move forward when it feels as if the power inside me has taken her away?

Harvey exhaled sharply, pushing aside the paralyzing weight of guilt. Wallowing in sorrow would only make him weaker. Instead, he resolved to focus on mastering his body and restraining the insatiable hunger within him. He would live by his heart and ensure that his power would never again harm someone he cared about.

Survival was his only path now, and he would cling to it with all his strength