Jalen woke to a different world.
The low hum of the tunnel, the stale air, the crackling of Reyka's makeshift equipment. He was no longer the scared kid running from an explosion; he was something else now. Something dangerous.
Reyka stood at the far end of the makeshift training room, wearing a headset that flickered between different holographic screens. She had a look of quiet concentration, one hand holding a glowing knife that shifted between solid and liquid, like it was made of light.
"Ready?" she asked.
Jalen rubbed his hands together. The golden sparks that had once seemed so out of place now felt almost natural. He closed his eyes, trying to tap into the strange power that had taken root inside him—the same power that burned through his veins every time he thought about the skies splitting open.
"I've never been ready for anything in my life," Jalen said, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. But Reyka didn't smile.
"Good. Because you're not here to 'feel' ready. You're here to survive."
She tossed him the glowing blade. Jalen caught it reflexively, the weight unfamiliar but grounding. The blade hummed as if it had a pulse of its own.
"Now. First rule of energy control: Don't control the power. Let it control you."
"What?" Jalen asked, his eyes flicking between the blade and Reyka, trying to make sense of her cryptic advice.
Reyka stepped forward, a faint glint of amusement in her eyes. "Don't think of it as something you wield. Think of it as something that's already inside you. The more you try to 'contain' it, the more it'll burn. You have to feel the power, become it. Let it take over until it becomes second nature."
Jalen nodded slowly, trying to settle his nerves. He raised the blade, unsure of what to do next.
"Close your eyes," Reyka ordered. "Focus on your breath. Feel the energy. Breathe in the power."
He shut his eyes, trying to calm the rapid thumping of his heart. He could feel it, the energy coiling in his chest, flickering through his body like static, pulsing at the edges of his nerves. He reached for it, feeling it fight back, wild and untamed.
"Don't grab it, Jalen," Reyka warned. "Let it come to you."
He took a deep breath. The blade in his hand flickered and flared, and for a brief moment, the energy surged through him, wild and uncontrolled, radiating out from his chest in waves. It wasn't just his hands now—it was his whole body, glowing with the power he'd unwittingly unlocked.
Suddenly, the blade pulsed—almost alive—and snapped forward, cutting through the air like it had a mind of its own. The force sent Jalen stumbling back, nearly losing his balance.
"Good. But don't lose focus," Reyka said. "That was better. You let the power use you. Now, try to control it."
Jalen gritted his teeth and steadied himself. The golden light around his body pulsed again, hotter this time, like a storm about to break. With a sharp exhale, he focused, trying to mold the energy like Reyka had said. Slowly, he raised his hand, extending the energy outward.
It was like holding back a flood—too much, too fast, threatening to spill over. But this time, it wasn't so chaotic. He could feel the edges, the heat in the air, the crackling potential.
A beam of energy shot out of his hand, slamming into a concrete pillar across the room, sending cracks spider-webbing out from the impact.
Jalen opened his eyes.
"Nice," Reyka said, a ghost of approval in her voice. "You're starting to get it. But that wasn't control, Jalen. That was instinct. Control comes when you can stop the power before it becomes too much.