The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the small stone hovel as Zarin’s mind churned, wrestling with Maros’ words. The idea that he, of all people, had been bound by some ancient magic—kept from his true potential—was too absurd to grasp fully. He had spent his entire life in the shadow of others, powerless, ordinary, and now this old mage was telling him that it had all been a lie. It didn’t feel like a revelation. It felt like an accusation.
Zarin stared into the flames, his jaw clenched. The warmth of the fire did nothing to ease the chill that had settled in his bones, a cold deeper than the frost outside. Beside him, Reya was silent, her posture tense but poised, ready to react. She was always ready, always alert. Zarin had come to admire that about her, the way she could stay calm even when the world was unraveling around them. But now, her silence unnerved him. He wanted her to speak, to say something that would anchor him, but she remained still, her eyes never leaving Maros.
The old mage, for his part, seemed in no hurry to explain himself. He stood by the fire, his hands folded before him, his gaze distant as if seeing something neither Zarin nor Reya could. His weathered face was lined with years of knowledge and sorrow, but those eyes—sharp, almost predatory—never dulled. They flicked back to Zarin, studying him as if waiting for a reaction.
Zarin finally broke the silence. His voice was low, rough. “You’re saying I’ve been bound my whole life. By whom? My parents? The Ascendants?”
Maros smiled faintly, though there was no joy in it. “The Ascendants, of course. Your parents were simple folk, I suspect, unaware of what you carried inside you. The Ascendants have always had a way of rooting out threats to their power before they could rise. When you were born, they must have sensed something… dangerous.”
Zarin shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. If they knew I was dangerous, why not kill me? Why let me live at all?”
“Because killing you would have caused ripples in the fabric of their power,” Maros said, stepping closer to the fire. “There are old laws, even for beings as powerful as they are. Laws they must obey. It is why they cannot destroy certain bloodlines outright, why they must contain rather than annihilate. You, Zarin, are of one such bloodline.”
The words hit Zarin like a blow to the chest. He had always thought his family was nothing more than ordinary, his parents simple farmers who lived and died in a village far removed from the politics of power and war. They had never spoken of anything grand or mysterious. His brother and sister had come into their powers naturally, like many children in Veridale. So why him? Why was he singled out?
Zarin’s fists clenched. “What bloodline? What are you talking about?”
Maros didn’t answer immediately. He moved to a small table at the side of the room, his movements slow, deliberate. From beneath the layers of dust and clutter, he pulled out an ancient-looking tome, its leather cover cracked and worn from centuries of use. He laid it on the table with care, as if it were something sacred.
“This,” Maros said, running a hand over the cover, “is a record of the Old Bloodlines. Families and lineages that existed long before the Ascendants rose to power. These bloodlines carried magic older than the elemental forces, magic tied to the very essence of the earth and sky.”
Reya stirred beside Zarin. “Older than the elements? That’s impossible. Nothing predates the elemental forces.”
“Not impossible,” Maros corrected, his voice low but firm. “Merely forgotten. The Ascendants didn’t invent power; they discovered it. They twisted it to their will. But the ancient magic—the magic of creation itself—was here long before them. Your bloodline, Zarin, is tied to that magic.”
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Zarin stared at the tome, his mind spinning. The idea of old bloodlines, ancient magic, powers beyond the elemental forces—it was all too much. His whole life had been shaped by what he couldn’t do. How could he suddenly be part of something so grand, so important?
“I don’t believe it,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. “I’ve never had power. My brother and sister—they have power. But me? I’m just… nothing.”
Maros’ eyes narrowed, his gaze like a blade. “That’s what they’ve made you believe. The binding they placed on you was designed to suppress your power, to make you think you were ordinary. But the potential is there, Zarin. It always has been.”
Zarin looked away, his chest tightening. He didn’t want to believe it. It was easier not to. He had spent years coming to terms with his place in the world, with being powerless, with being invisible. The idea that all of it had been a lie felt like a betrayal. But a part of him—the part that had always burned with anger, with frustration—felt something else.
A small, dangerous spark of hope.
Reya finally spoke, her voice calm but insistent. “Let’s say what you’re saying is true. How do we break the binding? How does Zarin unlock this power?”
Maros’ expression darkened, the flicker of a shadow crossing his face. “Breaking the binding is no simple task. It is a spell of ancient origin, one that ties the very essence of the person to the chains that hold them. To break it requires great risk—both to the one bound and to those who would help him.”
Zarin looked up, his heart pounding in his chest. “What kind of risk?”
Maros sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “The binding is not just a spell, Zarin. It is a part of you now, intertwined with your life force. Breaking it will require tremendous energy, and it could… unbalance you.”
“Unbalance?” Reya echoed, frowning. “What does that mean?”
Maros hesitated before answering. “It means that once the binding is broken, the power will come to the surface. But without control, it could overwhelm him. If Zarin is not prepared, the release of that power could destroy him. Or worse, it could consume him, turning him into something far more dangerous than the Ascendants themselves.”
Zarin’s blood ran cold. The thought of being consumed by some force he didn’t understand, of becoming something monstrous—it terrified him. But at the same time, the idea of having power, of finally being able to fight back, was intoxicating. He had lived his entire life in chains, and now he had the chance to break free. But at what cost?
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Zarin admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
Reya stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was firm, grounding. “You’re stronger than you think, Zarin. I’ve seen it. Whatever happens, you’re not doing this alone.”
Zarin met her gaze, the warmth in her eyes steadying him. Reya had been with him through so much already. She had fought beside him, bled beside him. If anyone could help him survive this, it was her.
But Maros wasn’t finished. “There is one more thing you must know, Zarin,” he said quietly. “The Ascendants are already aware of your presence. The moment you entered the Northern Wastes, they would have sensed the disturbance in the bindings. They will come for you.”
Zarin’s heart dropped. “They’re coming here?”
Maros nodded grimly. “They will not allow you to break the chains they have placed upon you. They fear what you might become. And they will stop at nothing to keep that power suppressed.”
For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of Maros’ words settling over them like a suffocating fog. Zarin could feel his pulse in his throat, the fear and uncertainty gnawing at him. The Ascendants were coming. The beings who had destroyed his village, who had enslaved his brother and sister, were coming for him.
But now, for the first time, he wasn’t powerless. He wasn’t helpless.
“We’ll be ready for them,” Reya said, her voice steady and strong. “They’ve underestimated us before. They won’t do it again.”
Zarin looked at her, seeing the fierce determination in her eyes, the unshakable resolve. She wasn’t afraid. And neither would he be.
“I’ll do it,” Zarin said, turning to Maros. His voice was firm, more confident than he felt. “Tell me how to break the binding. I’ll take the risk.”
Maros studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. But once we begin, there will be no turning back.”
Zarin took a deep breath, the weight of his decision settling on him. He didn’t know what was going to happen, didn’t know if he would survive it. But he knew one thing: the chains that had bound him his whole life were about to be shattered.
And for better or worse, he was going to find out who he really was.