The fire crackled in the quiet of the night, flickering shadows stretching long across the forest floor.

Auren sat cross-legged, absently running his fingers over the bloodstained cloth tied around his head. The cloth feels heavier tonight. Or maybe it's just me. The weight of it always drags at my mind, pulls me back to that moment... Rhett, lounging nearby, prodded the fire with a stick, sending a small flurry of embers into the night air.

Corren sat opposite them, his face half-lit by the fire's glow, his eyes lost in something neither of them could see. What is it? What is he seeing?

It wasn't unusual for Corren to fall into silence. But this time, something was different. The usual sharpness in his gaze had dulled, replaced with something distant, something haunted. Corren’s always been a bit of a mystery. But this—this isn’t like him.

Auren noticed first. "Corren?"

No response.

Rhett smirked, tossing a twig at him. "You're brooding more than usual, old man. That a new hobby?"

Corren blinked, the trance breaking. He exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temples. He’s hiding something. I can see it in his eyes, but I don't know what it is. "You two never learned when to keep quiet, did you?"

Auren and Rhett exchanged glances before Rhett shrugged. "Not really."

A pause. Then Corren sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "You want to know why I left you two behind that day, don't you?"

Auren nodded. "You saw something on that mercenary. Something that made you leave."

Corren's jaw clenched. He stared into the fire for a long moment before he spoke. "A golden hawk."

Silence stretched between them. The fire popped, and a breeze rustled the leaves overhead. A golden hawk. Why does that sound familiar?

"The Red Hawks," Corren continued, his voice quieter now, "were the ones who killed my wife. My son."

Neither Auren nor Rhett dared to interrupt. What? How? What happened?

"They weren't always that way. Once, they were just another mercenary company, swords-for-hire, no worse than the rest. But greed rots everything. One day, they took a contract they shouldn't have. A noble wanted to erase a debt, and rather than pay it, he paid them to erase the ones he owed."

His fingers curled into fists. A noble? A debt erased by killing? What kind of world is this?

"My family had nothing to do with it. But we lived on that land. And the Red Hawks… they didn't leave witnesses."

The weight of his words pressed against the night. Even Rhett, usually the first to make some flippant remark, stayed silent. They killed his family... just like that?

"I came home to a graveyard." Corren's voice was steady, but it was the kind of steadiness that took effort. "My wife, my boy… gone. Just like that. And I—" His breath hitched, just for a moment. I didn't expect this. He’s not the same man I thought he was. "I became something else. I wasn't a man anymore. Just a blade looking for a throat."

Auren felt the hairs on his arms rise. This wasn't the Corren they knew. This was something older, something raw. This is the pain he hides. The demon in him he’s trying to bury.

"I hunted them. Every last one." His eyes lifted to them, sharp, cold. "Tracked them across mountains, through cities. It took me years. But I made sure none of them walked away."

Rhett let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Corren smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Damn indeed." He leaned back, looking to the sky. "And when it was done, when the last of them had bled out at my feet… I felt nothing. No satisfaction. No peace. Just… emptiness."

Auren swallowed, his throat dry. "So when you saw the golden hawk—"

"My first thought was to kill him," Corren admitted. "No hesitation, no questions. But then I saw you two." He shook his head. Why? Why didn't he kill him? Was it because of us? "I left because I wasn't sure what I would do if I stayed. I wasn't sure if I was still that man. And I didn't want to find out."

The fire crackled between them, filling the silence. Corren's expression had softened, but the weight of his story lingered, thick as the night air. Corren’s never told us anything like this. What does it mean for us? For me?

After a moment, Auren nodded. "Thank you for telling us."

Corren snorted. "Didn't do it for you, boy."

Rhett stretched, cracking his knuckles. "Well, that was one hell of a bedtime story." He smirked, but there was a strange respect in his eyes now. "Guess that explains why you fight like a demon."

Corren rolled his eyes. "Get some sleep. We move at dawn."

Auren watched as Corren leaned back against a tree, staring at the sky, lost in thoughts he'd never fully escape. I never really understood Corren. Not like this. It’s... it’s different now. And for the first time, Auren truly understood the man who had taken them under his wing. Does it change anything? Should it?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The Next Day.

The morning air was crisp, the scent of damp earth mingling with pine. Auren steadied his breathing, fingers tightening around the worn wooden bow. The target—an old tree with a cluster of leaves marked by Corren—stood twenty paces away. He exhaled, loosing the arrow.

Thwack.

A little off-center. It’s always off-center. Why can’t I get it right?

"Again," Corren instructed, leaning against a rock with his arms crossed.

Auren retrieved another arrow, but his focus wavered. His thoughts lingered on last night—on the weight of Corren's past, on the unspoken emotions that still clung to the air. Does anyone ever really get over something like that? What would I do if it were me?

Rhett sat a few feet away, idly running a knife over a piece of wood, his expression unreadable as usual. But Corren's eyes lingered on him today, a gaze sharpened by something more than just training. What’s Corren thinking? What’s going on between them?

"Rhett."

The boy paused, knife stilling mid-stroke.

"How much do you remember?" Corren asked.

Rhett's grip on the blade tightened. "…Of what?"

Corren sighed. "You know what."

Silence stretched between them. The wind whispered through the trees.

"Nothing before the orphanage," Rhett finally muttered. "Just flashes. Pain. Lightning." His fingers twitched. Is that really all he remembers? How can he live with that kind of blankness?

Auren lowered his bow. He had always known Rhett's abilities weren't normal—how his body seemed to hum with energy, how his reflexes were unnaturally sharp, his movements almost too fast for the eye. But they had never questioned it. Not until now. So this is what Corren was talking about? Rhett wasn’t born this way?

Corren stepped closer, gaze steady. "Your body… it wasn't meant to be like this."

Rhett frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You weren't born with this power," Corren said. "It was forced onto you."

Auren's breath hitched. "What?"

Corren exhaled. "House Kaelor. They're the weakest of the four great houses, but what they lack in strength, they make up for in desperation. They've spent years trying to manufacture power—breaking the natural order." His voice darkened. Kaelor... The ones behind this? The ones who did this to Rhett? "Experiments. Torture. Trying to create something greater than what nature allows."

Auren glanced at Rhett, who was staring at the ground, jaw clenched. How much more can he take?

"Lightning attunement isn't rare," Corren continued. "But yours isn't natural. It's stronger, unstable. I've seen the signs before. And those scars—" his gaze flickered to Rhett's arms, where faint, lightning-shaped burns still marked his skin "—those weren't made by accident."

Rhett's fists clenched. "You're saying… they did this to me?"

Corren nodded. "It's likely."

Auren felt the weight of the truth settle over them. He had always envied Rhett's strength, his speed, his near-invincible reflexes. But now… I never thought about how it came to be. Never thought about the cost of it all.

Rhett slowly stood, the knife still in his grip. His face was unreadable, but Auren could see it—the storm gathering behind his eyes. This is going to change everything, isn’t it?

Corren placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're more than what they did to you."

Rhett didn't respond. He simply turned away, his back to them. The storm was coming, and Auren couldn’t help but wonder if they would survive it.

The words lingered. The morning felt colder than before.

"Get some rest," Corren finally said, stepping away. "We'll talk more tomorrow, you kids still have a long way to go."

The day passed,stars filled the sky.

The grassland stretched endlessly, a sea of silver under the pale glow of the stars.

Auren lay on his back, staring up at the sky. The cool night air carried the distant hum of insects, a rare moment of peace after everything they had learned.

Why isn’t it working?

He stared down at the silver dust, feeling the weight of every failed attempt. The sigil was the same. The words were the same. Why am I different? He watched the silver spiral, the lines of the rune glowing faintly in the moonlight, and felt something deep in his chest tighten.

Maybe I’m not meant for this. Maybe... maybe I’m not strong enough. The thought came unbidden, sharp and bitter.

Auren tried again, his fingers tracing the symbols with more force this time, more desperation. Focus. Focus, damn it. I can do this. I have to.

But the sigil remained lifeless, no answer, no response. The air didn’t even stir. His frustration built, a sharp edge cutting through him. He closed his eyes, willing himself to push through it. Corren said it’s not about forcing it… but what if that’s all I’ve ever known?

His father’s voice echoed in his mind, strong and steady. "You’ve got a fire in you, Auren. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s wrong."

That fire felt like it was choking him now. Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe I don’t have what it takes.

A sudden crack of thunder startled him, and his eyes shot open just in time to see Rhett’s spirit manifest. Lightning crackled in the air, and a massive eagle emerged from the glowing sigil with the force of a storm. The earth seemed to tremble beneath it.

Auren’s breath caught in his throat. Rhett had done it. Just like that. So effortlessly. Why him? His mind raced, envy and frustration mixing together. He doesn’t even try… and it just happens for him.

Rhett lifted his hand, and the eagle lowered its head, accepting the touch with a calmness that only added to the absurdity of it all. He spoke softly to it, the name coming naturally as if it had always been there.

"Seig," Rhett said, the name like a quiet command. The eagle’s eyes glowed brighter, a crackle of lightning running through its feathers as if acknowledging its name.

Auren stared, slack-jawed. Seig... Auren’s mind spun. Why does it come so easily for him?

The thought gnawed at Auren’s gut, but before he could dwell on it any longer, Corren's voice sliced through his thoughts, calm and steady.

"Not all spirits answer right away. Some wait for the right moment."

The right moment? The words echoed in his mind. What moment? Why doesn’t that moment come for me?

Corren’s voice continued. "There’s a Trial. Not far from here. An old one, meant for Initiates. It’s dangerous, but if you’re looking for a way forward, it might be exactly what you need."

Auren blinked, the words pulling him out of his spiral of frustration. A Trial?

He swallowed hard, his mind rushing with questions. What kind of Trial? What will it take? The idea of a test, something to prove himself, sparked a flicker of hope in him. He couldn’t just sit and wait. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do it. I’ll prove I’m ready.

Corren’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "One that will test more than just your strength."

Auren glanced at Rhett, who merely watched him with those unreadable eyes, waiting for his decision. The weight of the choice settled over him, heavy and uncertain.

Then, with a slow breath, Auren straightened his shoulders. This is it. This is my chance.

"When do we start?" he asked, his voice steady despite the storm of thoughts churning inside him.

Corren chuckled. "At dawn."

Above them, the wind howled through the grass, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled.