Kyle woke the next morning with a lightness in his chest he hadn't felt in weeks.
The weight he had carried—of being powerless, of not belonging—was gone. Now, he had a power of his own. The flames.What remained was learning to control it.
He could wait for the academy to teach him… but that would mean wasting two and a half months doing nothing.
No.
He would not waste his time like that.
Kyle reached for the diary resting on the bedside table. He flipped through the pages, wondering if a new entry had appeared.
The diary seemed to react to moments—emotions, events, intentions. It had done so before: in the attic, in the forest of Orcan, when it led him to the Ring of Nol and the trial of fire.
A fresh page caught his eye. Words already inked themselves into the page.
"My body is aching—this is the price I pay. Maybe I deserve it.
But if I hadn't done it… what is the point of all the pain and all the struggle I faced. If I can turn back time, I wished …"
The next lines were scratched out, unreadable.
Then the entry continued:
"The pain is due to all the power inside me. I want to use it.
If I use it, the pain will disappear for a while.
But I can't train here. If Kaius sees, he'll know what I'm capable of.
I like him… his strength, his kindness… but I can't trust him. Not yet.
There's another place. A room beneath the Ghost Tree. I used to train there. Maybe I'll return there."
Kyle sat up straight. The words felt like fate.
He had just begun looking for a place to train—and the diary delivered. Again.
After a quick shower, he headed downstairs. His mother was at the stove, humming softly. His father was nowhere in sight.
"Morning, Mom," Kyle said, wrapping his arms around her.
Aeiana turned, surprised but smiling, and returned the hug warmly. "You're looking better today."
"I feel better." Kyle sat at the table. The breakfast was simple: sandwiches and coffee, but to him, nothing ever tasted as good as his mother's cooking.
"Mom… I might be away again. For about two months. I need to train—really train. Yesterday, I finally activated my power. The flame."
He held out his hand, a small wisp of fire dancing across his palm.
Aeiana's eyes widened, not with fear, but pride. She was a mage herself—she understood the importance of power in this world.
Without it, people were often seen as burdens… or worse, failures. She had worried for Kyle. But now, she simply smiled and placed a hand on his back.
"Then go," she said softly. "I'll tell your father. Just… protect yourself, Kyle. And don't be too hard on yourself."
After breakfast, Kyle packed his duffel bag with all the essentials—clothes, food, water, coin, and of course, the diary.
Once ready, he hugged his mother, promised to write, and set out.
His destination was clear: the Ghost Tree.
As a child, he'd always heard tales of the southern woods near Livia Town—stories of people disappearing, of monsters lurking, of ancient curses. The danger of the Ghost Tree. It was a place to fear.
But Kyle knew better now. Or at least, he hoped.
Teleporting to Livia Town was easy. Familiar.
But navigating its vast edges wasn't. The "town" was more like a scattered city surrounded by dense wilderness.
With the help of a map, Kyle walked southward until the trees grew darker, older… wilder.
Eventually, he found it.
A tree unlike any other.
Massive. Twisted. Its bark was dark as ash. It radiated an unnatural stillness. The Ghost Tree.
Kyle circled it, searching for anything—an opening, a symbol, a clue.
This tree is quite remote, so no one see him like a lunatic, circling, kneeling or digging around the tree.
Then suddenly it happened.
The Ring of Nol pulsed on his finger.
A soft click echoed beneath his feet. The ground trembled, and part of the earth beneath the tree slid backward, revealing a hidden staircase carved into the roots.
A tomb-like silence greeted him as he stepped forward.
This… was the place.
He descended slowly. With the third step, the light above vanished, sealing him in complete darkness.
Kyle didn't panic. He moved carefully, step by step, until his foot met solid floor.
Light flared.
The chamber lit up around him—vast, stone-lined, humming with latent magic.
Then a voice echoed through the space. Cold. Mechanical.
"Welcome, new user. Please input the key. Failure to comply will result in forced removal."
Kyle froze. "Key?" he muttered, quickly flipping open the diary.
Before he could read, a podium rose from the floor. Two slots formed: one shaped like the ring, the other like the diary itself.
The answer was obvious.
He placed both items into their respective compartments.
Magic surged through the air. The ground rumbled. Walls shimmered and stretched, the chamber expanding far beyond its original size.
It was no longer a single room—it was a corridor of rooms, each labeled with glowing script: Gravity Room, Flame Chamber, Ice Hall, Wind Dome, and more.
Kyle's eyes widened. "This… this is insane."
"Final protocol: Access instructions," the voice said again, now smoother, almost friendly.
"This Sanctuary is bound to the Ring of Nol and your soul.
To access it in the future, place your thumb against the rune inside the ring while focusing your intent.
The path will appear—wherever you are.
Alternatively, speak the phrase: 'To the Sanctuary.'
A doorway shall open, visible only to you. No other may enter unless you allow them."
The podium retracted. Silence returned.
Kyle stared at the ring, then at the doorways before him.
This place… was his.
His training ground.
His sanctuary.
And it would answer only to him.