The courtyard of the House of Ember was soaked with dew and silence, broken only by the clash of steel and Kael's ragged breaths. Dawn stretched fingers of gold across the cracked stone tiles. His muscles screamed. Blisters tore open. Blood mixed with sweat on his palms.
Arin did not let up.
"Again."
Kael raised the wooden blade. Swung. Missed. Fell.
Lira chuckled from the wall where she sat, biting into an apple. "At this rate, the assassins will kill him before breakfast."
"Lira" Arin said without looking back. "Shut up."
Kael grit his teeth. The rune inside him pulsed—not with pain, but pressure. Like something deep wanted out.
"Why train me like this?" he asked, panting. "I have the rune. I can fight."
Arin stepped forward, sword tip at his throat. "Because if you rely on the rune without mastering yourself, you die. Or worse—someone else takes control."
Kael blinked. "How?"
Lira hopped down. "Ever hear of Rune Leechers? They hook into you, drain your power, turn you into a puppet with just enough mind left to scream."
Kael's skin crawled. He stood, legs shaking. "Again," he whispered.
The days blurred.
He sparred until he collapsed. Meditated until the rune whispered names in forgotten tongues. Slept in fevered dreams—visions of cities burning, of gods screaming, of a throne made of bone and light.
Lira taught him how to move silently, how to lie with a smile, how to slit a throat without leaving a trace. Arin broke his bones and reset them stronger. Together, they rebuilt him.
He was not a warrior yet.
But he was no longer a boy.
One night, he woke in a cold sweat.
A whisper.
"Kael..."
He sat up. Shadows danced on the walls.
A girl stood at the edge of his room, barefoot, cloak dripping rain.
Eyes like molten gold. Hair pale as ash. Skin carved with swirling rune-marks that shifted even as he stared.
"Who—"
She raised a finger. His voice died.
"I felt your awakening," she said. "The god-rune sings to me. We are bound, you and I."
Kael backed up. "You're a Rune-Bearer?"
She smiled. "I am more than bearer. I am heir."
Before he could move, she vanished, leaving behind a faint scent of ozone and blood.
At breakfast, Kael recounted the visit. Arin frowned. Lira looked... amused.
"Sounds like you've met the priestess," Lira said. "They say she walks the lines between dreams and death."
"She shouldn't be able to get in here," Arin said. "Unless someone let her."
They both looked at each other.
Then at Kael.
He pushed the food away. The rune in his chest had begun to glow faintly, even in daylight.
A week later, the first assassin came.
He arrived as a servant, carrying wine.
Kael only noticed because the man had no shadow.
The blade struck silently—straight for his heart.
Kael moved.
He didn't know how.
The rune guided him.
Steel met skin. Flesh burst. Kael twisted, reversed, drove the assassin's own knife into his throat.
Blood sprayed across the walls.
Arin arrived moments later, sword drawn. Lira followed, one eye still drowsy from sleep.
"Not bad," Lira said. "He didn't scream."
Kael stared at the corpse, hands shaking.
"It won't be the last," Arin said.
He nodded.
The rune pulsed louder now.
It wanted war.
It wanted fire.
And Kael wasn't sure he could keep it contained.
Far beyond the House of Ember, across the dunes of the Shattered Reach, a council gathered in a hall carved from obsidian and bone. A woman sat at its center, eyes blindfolded, lips sewn shut.
The Prophetess of Chains.
Before her, flames danced in a rune-carved bowl. Images flickered in the fire: a boy, glowing, standing over a field of corpses.
She reached out with a clawed hand.
"He has awakened," her thoughts echoed.
Around her, Rune Lords leaned forward.
"Send the hounds," one said.
"Send the Sealed," another whispered.
"Send the girl," said the Prophetess. "She knows his name."
In the shadows, a figure stirred.
Golden eyes.
Ash-pale hair.
The rune-marked girl smiled.
"Kael," she whispered. "You belong to me."
And then she vanished into smoke.
Back in the House of Ember, Kael stood alone in the moonlit courtyard. He watched the stars, wondering which of them were real and which were runes waiting to fall.
Lira joined him, quiet for once.
"Do you miss it?" she asked. "Before all this?"
"I didn't have much. But it was mine."
"Now you've got power. Girls. Enemies. Not bad for a village runt."
Kael smiled faintly.
"You think I'm ready for what's coming?"
She didn't answer. Just bumped his shoulder with hers.
Behind them, Arin watched from a balcony, unreadable.
Below them, the rune glowed in Kael's chest.
Something ancient was stirring.
And it would not be denied.