The hum began faintly, barely louder than the sound of my own heartbeat. At first, I thought it was just my imagination—a side effect of another sleepless night. But as I lay in bed, staring into the same void I’d always known, the vibration grew stronger, resonating through the medallion resting against my chest.

This wasn’t normal. The medallion had been mine for as long as I could remember. A gift from my mother. A symbol of resilience, she’d called it. But in all those years, it had never done this.

“What...?” My hand trembled as I pressed it against the cool, smooth surface. The pulsing wasn’t just faint vibrations anymore—it was warm, alive, and unnervingly rhythmic. “What’s happening?”

The hum responded, as though acknowledging my voice. Panic tightened my chest, and I scrambled to sit up, clutching the medallion like it might escape. I could feel my pulse racing, faster than the rhythm of the shard’s strange energy.

This wasn’t possible. This wasn’t right.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my feet finding the cold stone floor. The night was quiet, save for the faint creaks of the old keep settling around me. My thoughts swirled as I tried to make sense of what I was feeling. Was this some kind of dream? Or worse, a curse? My father had always warned me that the world beyond our walls was dangerous, full of forces that couldn’t be controlled.

But this wasn’t the world beyond. This was inside me.

I needed answers. Now.

The library welcomed me like an old friend, its familiar scent of parchment and ink grounding me. My fingers brushed against the spines of books as I made my way toward the far corner where I always sat. I didn’t need light—I had long since memorized the path.

I paused as the shard pulsed again, the hum growing sharper. It was guiding me. Not with words, but with its rhythm, like a thread pulling me forward. My hand found the edge of a table, and then something else—a book I didn’t recognize.

Its leather cover was rough under my fingertips, the edges worn and cracked with age. There were runes etched into the surface, faint and jagged, their shapes unfamiliar. I hesitated before opening it, the shard’s hum quickening as though urging me forward.

The pages beneath my hands were brittle, but the moment I touched them, something extraordinary happened. The shard’s energy surged, and though I couldn’t see the words, their meaning unfolded in my mind like a whispered secret.

“Magic is the thread that binds all things.”

The words came unbidden, resonating deep within me.

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“To wield it is to hold the essence of life itself. But magic is not simply wielded—it is infused, becoming one with the body, the spirit, the soul.”

My breath hitched as the shard pulsed sharply, the hum vibrating through every part of me. Infusion—the melding of magic with one’s being. It sounded impossible, dangerous even. Yet, something about it felt... familiar.

The book’s presence faded as the shard’s hum filled the room, steady and insistent. I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm wash over me. Could I really do this? Could I truly bring magic into myself?

My father’s voice echoed in my mind. What do you offer this house, Caelan?

I clenched my fists, determination hardening inside me. “I’ll show you,” I whispered. “I’ll prove you wrong.”

The first attempt was... unpleasant.

I sat cross-legged on the cold floor of my chambers, the medallion pressed firmly in my hand. The shard’s hum guided my breathing, its rhythm slow and deliberate. I focused inward, imagining the energy spreading from the medallion into my fingers, weaving through me like threads of light.

At first, there was warmth—a soothing, gentle pulse that sent a shiver through my arm. But then came the pain.

Sharp. Unforgiving. Like fire coursing through my veins. I gritted my teeth, my free hand clawing at the stone floor as the shard’s energy surged. The pain built and built until I couldn’t take it anymore. I gasped, releasing the medallion as the energy recoiled. The room fell silent, save for my ragged breathing.

I stared into the darkness, my chest heaving. “What... was that?” My voice was barely a whisper, trembling as much as my hands.

The shard’s hum faded into a faint murmur, leaving me alone with the dull ache in my arm and the burning sting of failure.

By morning, the pain had dulled, replaced by a strange tingling in my fingertips. As I flexed my hand experimentally, I noticed something... different. My grip felt stronger, steadier, as though the magic had left some trace of itself behind.

I couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

The training yard was alive with the sounds of steel clashing and soldiers shouting orders. I made my way toward the centre, where Aric’s voice rang out, as confident and mocking as ever.

“Back so soon, little brother?” he called. “Didn’t think you’d have the stomach for another round.”

I gripped the wooden sword at my side, the shard’s faint hum steadying my nerves. “Maybe you’ll be the one to quit this time.”

Aric laughed, the sound echoing through the yard. “We’ll see about that.”

The sparring match began as it always did, his strikes fast and relentless. But today, something was different. The shard’s hum sharpened, aligning with my movements. I couldn’t see his attacks, but I could feel them—the subtle shift in the air, the faint creak of his boots on the ground.

I deflected one blow, then another, my movements quicker and more precise than ever. Aric faltered, his frustration evident as I pressed the attack. For the first time, I wasn’t just holding my own—I was winning.

When my blade finally struck his wrist, forcing him to drop his weapon, the silence in the yard was deafening. Aric stared at me, his voice low and disbelieving. “What... how did you...?”

I stepped back, lowering my sword. “Maybe I’m stronger than you think.”

That evening, I returned to the library, my thoughts racing. The shard’s hum was quieter now, almost soothing as I sat across from Master Briar.

“You seem... different,” he said, his tone curious. “Care to explain?”

I hesitated, my hand brushing against the medallion. “I think... it’s alive. The shard, I mean. It’s connected to me somehow.”

Briar’s expression shifted, his usual calm giving way to something more cautious. “Alive? Caelan, you may be dealing with something far older—and far more powerful—than you realize.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but I couldn’t back away now. Not when I was so close to finding the strength I’d been searching for.

The shard pulsed faintly, its rhythm a quiet promise.