The Weight of Power

The sun had barely risen, yet the training grounds behind Elandor's inner wall were already alight with motion.

Kael stood in silence as the five students cycled through an advanced sparring gauntlet — one where each participant was rotated through illusion-clones designed to imitate the others, flaws and all. Mismatches were deliberate. Unfair pairings, chaotic variables, and sudden interference — all tools Kael employed to test not skill, but adaptability.

Velura and Gorran clashed in the center, her shadows dancing like snakes while his gravitational fields slowed the world around them. Thorne blinked in and out of volatile arcs as he tried to interrupt Seris's cloaked movement. Reyne, steadier now, anchored the exercise by managing control zones with rising confidence.

But Kael's focus wasn't fully there.

His mind drifted — downward, inward — to the block he could feel between Ethereal and Primordius. It wasn't resistance. It was absence.

A silent law in the core of his soul whispering: You are not ready.

He had created the Sovereign Codex, mastered techniques that bent time, essence, and fate — yet something remained missing. Every attempt to step into the next realm of being felt like grabbing at mist. The Essence obeyed him, yes, but the world didn't recognize him as Primordius.

"Still chasing power?" Arlan's voice broke his thoughts.

Kael blinked and looked up. His brother had approached without a sound, hands folded behind his back, a rare softness in his tone.

"Not power," Kael said after a pause. "Understanding."

Arlan nodded, then glanced at the students. "You teach them balance. But you fight like a storm. Maybe that's the gap."

Kael stared quietly. Then, he turned and walked toward the meditation ridge — the highest point overlooking the Elandor barrier, where wind and flame converged. He sat there alone, letting the day move.

He closed his eyes and reached inward.

Not to his power — but to why he fought.

Visions came unbidden — the Varnok Sovereign's gaze, the screaming of broken cities, his own near-death moments, the fire that had once burned wild within him. And beneath all of it… the weight of responsibility. The future. His students. His family. The world.

Power was not enough to become Primordius. The rank demanded more than force.

It demanded meaning.

Kael's breath steadied. He began to shape his Essence — not as tools or weapons, but as extensions of his intent. He bound Flame not as destruction, but as will. He let Storm fold into change. Lightning became clarity. Kinetic, resolve.

Voidstream pulsed… and he did not command it.

He asked it.

A brief moment of stillness surged through his soul — like the world paused to consider his question.

And in that instant, Kael felt something.

A golden pillar of Essence formed within his soulscape, spinning slowly, ancient in its presence — as if the universe itself offered a glimpse of what lay beyond.

Primordius.

It was close.

But just as his spirit began to touch it, his vision trembled. Pressure, immense and crushing, flooded him. Flames flared. Storms cracked the inner sky. His limbs locked.

You have not yet anchored who you are, the world seemed to whisper. You are close… but not whole.

Kael's body seized, Essence spiraling in reverse. Blood welled in his mouth. He collapsed forward, gasping, kneeling against the rocky ridge.

Behind him, the students saw it — the flare of uncontrolled energy. They rushed forward.

"Kael!" Velura skidded to his side, eyes wide.

"I'm fine," he whispered, wiping blood from his chin.

Thorne looked at the fading glow above. "What happened?"

Kael stood slowly, the weight of the attempt settling into his bones. He felt scorched from the inside — and yet... enlightened.

"I reached the door," he said softly. "But it won't open until I know myself more completely."

Reyne furrowed her brow. "Know yourself? But you already—"

Kael raised a hand, gentle. "Strength is knowing what you are. Ascension is knowing why."

They stood in silence.

Then Kael turned, fire rekindled behind his tired gaze.

"Back to training," he said. "I may not be Primordius yet. But I'll make sure you reach your peak long before that day comes."

The students nodded.

And the sun rose higher