The wind howled outside the stone hovel, a constant, oppressive presence that seemed determined to tear the world apart. Inside, the air was thick with tension, anticipation heavy in every breath. Zarin stood before the hearth, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, feeling the weight of Maros’ words pressing down on him.
The binding was about to be broken, and once it was, nothing would ever be the same.
Reya paced near the door, her fingers drumming against the leather-wrapped hilt of her dagger. She was waiting, always waiting, but her patience had a purpose. Zarin admired that about her—how she could remain focused even when the weight of the world pressed down. For him, it was different. The pressure of what was coming felt like a storm building inside his chest, a force he had no control over. And maybe that was because he had no control. Not yet.
Maros had left them for a moment, retreating to another room in his small dwelling, gathering the necessary tools for the ritual to break Zarin’s chains. The air was thick with expectation, as if even the walls knew that something monumental was about to happen.
Zarin’s mind raced back to Maros’ words—about power, about bloodlines, about the Ascendants. He had always known them to be powerful, but the way Maros spoke of them made them sound like forces of nature, unstoppable and terrifying.
“Ascendants,” he muttered, almost to himself.
Reya stopped her pacing, turning to face him. “What about them?”
Zarin didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back, back to the day his village had been destroyed, back to the day he had witnessed their power firsthand.
----------------------------------------
It had been a day like any other in Veridale. The sky was clear, the sun warm against the rolling hills, and Zarin had been out in the fields with his father, helping with the harvest. His brother, Kade, had been practicing with his powers near the river, conjuring small flames in his hands and throwing them into the water, watching the steam rise in curls of mist. His sister, Lira, had been in the forest, her laughter carrying on the breeze as she played with the wind, bending it to her will.
Zarin had watched them both from a distance, the familiar ache in his chest growing sharper. They were so natural with their powers, so comfortable in their skins, while he… he was nothing. He had always been nothing.
Then the air had changed.
It wasn’t something Zarin could explain. There had been no warning, no signal. But he had felt it—a shift, like the world itself had drawn a breath and held it, waiting. The birds had gone silent, the wind stilling. The sky had darkened, though the sun still shone overhead.
And then they had come.
At first, Zarin hadn’t understood what he was seeing. The figures descending from the sky had seemed more like shadows than people, their forms dark and shifting, cloaked in an aura of power that made the air vibrate with tension. There were three of them—Ascendants, though Zarin hadn’t known it at the time. They moved without effort, their feet never touching the ground, their eyes glowing with the light of a distant sun.
Zarin’s father had dropped his scythe, his face paling as he stared at the figures. He had whispered something under his breath—something that Zarin couldn’t hear but that sounded like a prayer.
The lead Ascendant, a man tall and lean with silver hair that seemed to shimmer even in the dim light, raised a hand. “This village harbors those with power,” he had said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo through the hills. “You will surrender them to us.”
Zarin’s father had taken a step forward, his voice shaking as he spoke. “My children… they’re innocent. They don’t—”
The Ascendant’s hand flicked, and Zarin’s father was thrown back, crashing into the side of the house with a sickening thud. He hadn’t moved after that.
Zarin had stood frozen, his mind unable to process what was happening. The air was thick with power, an overwhelming force that pressed down on him, suffocating him. Kade had run toward the figures, flames blazing in his hands, but the second Ascendant—this one a woman with pale, golden eyes—had waved her hand, and the flames had died in an instant, snuffed out like candles in the wind. Kade had been lifted into the air, suspended by invisible threads, his face twisted in terror.
Lira had tried to run, but the third Ascendant—a dark-skinned man with eyes like black mirrors—had simply pointed at her, and the wind had turned against her, trapping her in place.
Zarin had watched, helpless, as the Ascendants bound his siblings in chains of light, chains that shimmered with the same eerie glow as their eyes. He had wanted to scream, to fight, to do something, but he couldn’t move. He was rooted to the spot, powerless, useless.
The Ascendants had spared him a single glance, their eyes cold and dismissive, as if he weren’t even worth the effort. And then they had taken his brother and sister, vanishing into the sky as quickly as they had come, leaving only silence in their wake.
Zarin had stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the place where his family had been, his heart pounding in his chest. The world had shifted that day, tilted on its axis, and he had been left behind, broken and alone.
----------------------------------------
The memory faded, and Zarin opened his eyes, the firelight dancing in his vision. His hands were trembling, though he hadn’t noticed it until now. He clenched them into fists, trying to steady himself.
Reya was watching him, her brow furrowed. “You’re thinking about them, aren’t you?”
Zarin nodded, his throat tight. “I saw what they did. How they took my brother and sister. I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”
Reya crossed the room in two quick strides, standing in front of him. Her voice was low but fierce. “You didn’t have the power then. But you do now. And once we break the binding, they won’t be able to ignore you. Not anymore.”
Zarin met her gaze, her words igniting something in him. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that once the chains were broken, he would be able to fight back, to stand up to the Ascendants and take back what they had stolen from him. But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
Maros returned then, carrying a small, intricately carved box in his hands. He set it down on the table with a soft thud, opening it to reveal several vials filled with shimmering liquid and a bundle of aged scrolls tied with leather cords.
“This is the ritual that will break the binding,” Maros said, his voice grave. “It will not be pleasant, and it will require both strength and will. But once it is done, your power will be free.”
Zarin swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. He glanced at Reya, who gave him a small nod, her expression reassuring.
“What do I have to do?” Zarin asked, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides.
Maros motioned for him to sit at the table. “Drink from the vial,” he said, holding up one of the glass containers. “This will open the pathways in your mind, allowing me to see the chains that bind you. Once I can see them, I will attempt to break them.”
Zarin took the vial in his hand, the liquid inside glowing faintly. It felt warm to the touch, almost alive. He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing. Then, with a deep breath, he uncorked the vial and drank.
The liquid was sweet, but there was a bitter aftertaste that spread across his tongue. For a moment, nothing happened. Zarin stared at the fire, waiting, but then the room seemed to shift. The edges of his vision blurred, and the firelight twisted into strange, unfamiliar shapes.
His heart pounded in his chest as the world around him darkened, and suddenly, he was no longer in Maros’ hovel. He was somewhere else—somewhere vast and endless. A void stretched out before him, filled with swirling shadows and chains of light that pulsed with a cold, unfeeling rhythm.
He could see the chains now. They coiled around him, invisible in the waking world but tangible here, binding him in place, restricting him. He tried to move, but the chains tightened, cutting into his skin, burning with a searing heat.
Panic surged through him, but then a voice cut through the darkness—Maros’ voice, calm and commanding.
“Do not fight it,” Maros said. “Let me guide you.”
Zarin closed his eyes, focusing on Maros’ voice, on the steady rhythm of his words. He could feel the old mage’s presence now, like a beacon in the dark, pulling him back from the edge. Slowly, the chains began to loosen, the burning sensation fading.
And then came the pain.
It was like nothing Zarin had ever experienced. His body felt as if it were being torn apart from the inside, his skin aflame, his bones shattering and reforming. He screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the void.
But through the pain, something else stirred. Deep within him, a spark ignited —a force that had been dormant for so long it had become a part of the shadows in his soul. Now, as the chains that had bound him for his entire life began to weaken, that spark flickered and grew, feeding on the energy that surged through him like a wildfire. The pain was unbearable, but underneath it was something else—something powerful.
Zarin’s vision blurred as the world around him pulsed with the intensity of the ritual. The chains of light that had once wrapped around him were unraveling, breaking apart piece by piece. Each one that snapped sent a shockwave of pain through his body, but also a release, a loosening of something deep inside him that had been suppressed for as long as he could remember.
He could feel it now—his power. It wasn’t like his brother’s flames or his sister’s winds. It was something deeper, something primal. It surged through him, raw and untamed, as though it had been waiting for this moment, waiting to be unleashed.
Suddenly, the darkness around him shifted. The chains snapped one by one, the final one breaking with a crack that echoed in his mind like thunder. Zarin’s body seized as the force within him exploded outward, a torrent of energy that ripped through the void and surged back into the real world.
With a gasp, Zarin’s eyes flew open, his body jerking forward as he collapsed onto the table, sweat pouring from his brow. The fire in the hearth flickered wildly, the air around him humming with an electric tension that hadn’t been there moments before.
Maros stepped back, his face drawn and pale, but his eyes gleamed with something akin to awe. “It is done,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. “The chains are broken.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Zarin’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to regain control. His body was shaking, every muscle trembling with the aftermath of the ritual. He could feel it now—the power, like a living thing inside him, coiled and waiting, hungry and dangerous.
Reya rushed to his side, her hand steady on his shoulder, grounding him. “Zarin, are you alright?”
He nodded, though the word caught in his throat. He wasn’t alright. He was something else now. He could feel the power shifting inside him, restless and wild, like a beast that had been caged for too long.
“I… I can feel it,” Zarin whispered, his voice hoarse. “It’s… it’s inside me.”
Maros approached slowly, his eyes never leaving Zarin. “You’ve awakened your true nature,” he said. “But remember what I told you. This power, now that it’s unbound, will try to consume you if you let it. You must learn to control it, or it will destroy you.”
Zarin nodded, but his mind was racing. How could he control something that felt so vast, so beyond his understanding? The energy inside him was like nothing he had ever felt before—raw, untamed, and terrifying.
Reya knelt beside him, her eyes searching his. “You’ve got this, Zarin. Whatever happens, we’re in this together. You’re not alone.”
Her words were steady, but Zarin could see the flicker of worry in her eyes. She was right to be worried. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, or if he could handle the power he had been given.
Before Zarin could speak, the door to the hovel burst open with a deafening crack, sending splinters flying across the room. The cold wind howled through the open doorway, and in its wake came a presence that chilled Zarin to his core.
The Ascendants had found them.
Two figures stood in the doorway, cloaked in shadow, their eyes glowing with the eerie, unnatural light that Zarin remembered all too well. The taller of the two stepped forward, his silver hair gleaming in the firelight. Zarin recognized him immediately—the same Ascendant who had destroyed his village, who had taken his family. His heart pounded in his chest, the memory of that day flashing in his mind like a blade slicing through his thoughts.
“So,” the Ascendant said, his voice cold and smooth as ice. “You’ve broken the chains. I wondered when you would find the courage.”
Zarin’s blood boiled at the sound of that voice, but before he could respond, Reya had already drawn her sword, placing herself between him and the Ascendants. “Stay back,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous. “We’re not going with you.”
The second Ascendant, a woman with golden eyes that seemed to shimmer in the dark, tilted her head slightly. “It’s not a matter of choice, little Wanderer. You should know by now that resisting us is futile.”
Reya’s grip on her sword tightened. “I’ve killed your kind before. Try me.”
Zarin’s heart raced, the power inside him surging to the surface. He could feel it now, crackling just beneath his skin, begging to be unleashed. He didn’t know if he could control it, didn’t know if he was ready, but he didn’t have a choice. Not now.
The silver-haired Ascendant’s eyes flicked toward Zarin, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Ah, the boy with the old blood. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”
Zarin clenched his fists, the power inside him responding to his anger, rising like a tidal wave. He could feel it in his veins, pulsing through him, stronger than anything he had ever known. He met the Ascendant’s gaze, his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at him.
“You’re not taking me,” Zarin said, his words filled with a force he hadn’t intended. “Not this time.”
The silver-haired Ascendant’s smile widened, but there was no humor in it. “We’ll see about that.”
And then, without warning, the Ascendant moved, faster than Zarin’s eyes could follow. In an instant, he was upon them, his hand raised, the air crackling with energy as he summoned a bolt of lightning that tore through the room with a deafening roar.
But Zarin was ready.
The power inside him surged forward, meeting the lightning with a burst of raw energy that exploded outward, shaking the very foundations of the hovel. The lightning dissipated, and for the first time, the Ascendant’s smile faltered.
Zarin stood, his body thrumming with energy, the air around him humming with the force of his power. He didn’t fully understand what he had done, but he could feel the shift in the room, could feel the Ascendant’s surprise.
Reya darted forward, her sword flashing as she struck at the golden-eyed woman. Their blades met with a sharp clang, sparks flying as they clashed. Reya moved with the precision of a seasoned fighter, her strikes quick and lethal, but the Ascendant was faster, her movements fluid and effortless as she parried each blow with ease.
Zarin’s attention snapped back to the silver-haired Ascendant, who was watching him with a new intensity, his eyes narrowing as if assessing the situation.
“You’ve grown stronger,” the Ascendant said, his voice low. “But strength alone won’t save you.”
Zarin didn’t respond. He could feel the power inside him building, ready to be unleashed. He didn’t know if he could control it, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. The Ascendants had taken everything from him—his family, his home, his life. He wasn’t going to let them take anything else.
With a roar, Zarin let the power explode outward, a torrent of raw energy that filled the room with a blinding light. The Ascendant staggered back, caught off guard by the force of the blast, but he recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing as he raised his hand, summoning another bolt of lightning.
But Zarin was ready this time. He raised his own hand, the energy inside him responding to his will, and with a crackling burst of power, he deflected the lightning, sending it crashing into the wall behind him.
The Ascendant’s eyes widened, and for the first time, Zarin saw something in them that he hadn’t expected.
Fear.
Zarin stepped forward, his body thrumming with energy, his eyes locked on the Ascendant. “This ends now,” he said, his voice low and steady.
The silver-haired Ascendant’s face twisted in anger, and he raised his hand again, but before he could strike, Maros stepped forward, his voice commanding as he spoke a word of power.
The Ascendant froze, his body locked in place by some invisible force, his eyes wide with shock.
Maros turned to Zarin, his face grim. “Now, Zarin. Finish it.”
Zarin hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. The power was still surging inside him, wild and dangerous, but now, with the Ascendant helpless before him, he realized that this was it. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment he had dreamed of since the day his family was taken from him.
But as he stood there, the power crackling around him, he felt a weight settle over his heart. Killing the Ascendant would end the threat—at least for now—but would it make him any different from them?
He looked into the Ascendant’s eyes and saw the fear there, saw the helplessness.
Zarin lowered his hand, the energy around him dissipating.
“No,” Zarin said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not like you.”
Maros frowned, but before he could speak, the Ascendant’s body shimmered, and in a flash of light, he was gone —vanishing into the ether like a ghost escaping through cracks in the walls. The lingering scent of ozone and burnt wood filled the air where he had stood, and for a moment, there was only silence in the hovel. The tension hung thick, as though the room itself was still trembling from the battle that had just taken place.
Zarin stood there, breathing hard, his muscles taut, the residual energy from the fight still humming beneath his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, but the overwhelming rush of power he had felt just moments ago had begun to fade. He stared at the place where the silver-haired Ascendant had been, his mind trying to process what had just happened. He had faced them—truly faced them—for the first time, and they had fled.
Reya was the first to break the silence, her sword still gripped tightly in her hand, though her posture had relaxed. “They’ll be back,” she said, her voice steady but laced with exhaustion. “You gave them a taste of what you can do, but they won’t give up that easily.”
She sheathed her sword, the metallic sound sharp in the quiet. Zarin glanced at her, grateful for her constant presence, her unwavering strength. She hadn’t hesitated for a second when the Ascendants had arrived. Reya was a warrior through and through, a survivor in a world that tried to tear people apart.
He wondered, not for the first time, if he could ever be that strong.
“I let him go,” Zarin said quietly, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he had time to think. He wasn’t sure why he was saying it, but the weight of the decision gnawed at him. “I could have finished it, but I… didn’t.”
Reya studied him, her dark eyes sharp and unreadable. “You made a choice,” she said, her voice calm, but there was a note of something deeper, something like understanding. “That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
Zarin’s gaze dropped to the floor, the adrenaline from the fight slowly leaving his body, leaving only exhaustion and doubt in its place. “But what if they come back stronger? What if I don’t get another chance?”
“You’ll get plenty of chances,” Reya said, walking over to him and placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Believe me. They won’t stop coming for you, not now that they’ve seen what you can do. But you’re not alone in this.”
Zarin wanted to believe her, but the fear of losing control still lurked beneath the surface. The power he had felt during the fight—it had been intoxicating, almost overwhelming. He had barely been able to contain it, and the thought of what might happen if he lost control terrified him. But beyond that fear, he couldn’t help but think of his brother and sister, still trapped somewhere under the Ascendants’ control.
He had to find them. He had to free them. And he couldn’t afford to hesitate again.
Maros, who had been standing quietly near the hearth, finally spoke, his voice weary but filled with a deep understanding. “You chose mercy,” he said, his eyes fixed on Zarin. “That is no small thing, especially in a world where power is often used to destroy.”
Zarin met Maros’ gaze, feeling the weight of those words settle on him. Mercy. It hadn’t felt like mercy in the moment—it had felt like uncertainty, like doubt. But perhaps Maros was right. Perhaps sparing the Ascendant had been a decision rooted not in weakness, but in something else.
Maros walked over to the table and sat down, his aged frame seeming to sag with the effort of the evening’s events. “You did well tonight,” he said softly, his eyes still sharp despite his exhaustion. “But you must understand, Zarin, that the path you’ve chosen is not an easy one. The power within you is not like the others. It is ancient, primal. It will seek to bend you to its will if you do not learn to master it.”
“I felt it,” Zarin said, his voice low. “It’s… wild. I didn’t know if I could control it. Even now, I’m not sure.”
“You will learn,” Maros replied. “Control takes time, and the road ahead will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine. But you are stronger than you realize, Zarin. That is why the Ascendants fear you.”
Zarin looked away, the words sinking into him. The Ascendants, these beings of godlike power, feared him. It was almost impossible to believe. But deep down, he knew that Maros was telling the truth. He had felt the Ascendant’s fear during the battle, seen the surprise in their eyes when he had pushed back against their attacks.
The power was real. It was dangerous. But it was his.
“We’ll need to leave soon,” Reya said, her eyes scanning the room as if expecting the Ascendants to reappear at any moment. “They know where we are now. This place won’t be safe for long.”
Maros nodded in agreement. “The Northern Wastes have hidden many secrets, but they will not hide us from the Ascendants forever. We must move quickly.”
Zarin pushed himself up from the table, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. “Where will we go?”
Maros’ eyes flickered with a strange intensity. “To the heart of the Wastes. There is an ancient place, long forgotten by most, where the old magic still lingers. It is there that you will learn to master your power. It is there that we will find the answers we seek.”
Reya raised an eyebrow. “You’re talking about the Frozen Spire, aren’t you?”
Maros nodded solemnly. “Yes. The Spire is where the Old Ones left their mark on this world, where the ancient forces that existed before the Ascendants still hold sway. It is dangerous, but it may be our only hope.”
Zarin glanced between the two of them, the name unfamiliar but heavy with meaning. “What is the Frozen Spire?”
Maros’ voice lowered, filled with reverence and caution. “The Frozen Spire is a place of raw power, a place where the elemental forces converge and clash. It is a remnant of the time before the Ascendants, when the world was still being shaped by forces beyond our understanding. Few have ventured there, and fewer still have returned. But it is there that you will find the means to fully break free from the Ascendants’ influence.”
Zarin’s mind raced. He had heard stories of such places—ancient, forbidden locations where the veil between the material world and the mystical forces was thin. But the Frozen Spire… if it held the key to mastering his power, then it was a risk he had to take.
“When do we leave?” Zarin asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling inside him.
Reya gave him a small, approving nod. “As soon as possible. We’ll need to travel light. The Wastes are unforgiving, and the Spire is far from here.”
Maros rose from the table, his movements slow but purposeful. “Rest tonight. You’ll need your strength for the journey ahead.”
Zarin glanced toward the door, his thoughts still racing. The Ascendants would come for him again—that much was certain. But now, he wasn’t the same powerless boy they had dismissed so easily. The chains had been broken, and though he still had much to learn, he had taken his first step toward freedom. Toward becoming something more.
The storm outside raged on, the wind howling against the stone walls of the hovel, but inside, the fire burned low and steady. Zarin could feel the weight of the coming days pressing down on him, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something else.
Hope.
It was fragile, barely a flicker in the vast darkness that lay ahead, but it was there.
And he would hold onto it with everything he had.
----------------------------------------
As Zarin lay down to rest that night, his mind drifted back to the silver-haired Ascendant, to the fear he had seen in those cold eyes. He wondered what it meant, what it said about his own power, and what the Ascendants might do next.
But one thing was clear.
The world was changing, and Zarin was no longer a passive observer. The time for fear had passed. The time for action had come.
And as the wind outside howled with fury, Zarin closed his eyes, ready to face whatever came next.