The shard’s hum was a constant companion now, a faint vibration just beneath my awareness. Every time I touched the medallion, I felt its presence, a subtle reminder of what I’d discovered. Magic. Not the kind from legends or the distant powers spoken of in stories. This was something real, something within me. Something I could use.

But I was still cautious. The pain from my first attempt at infusion lingered in my memory, a sharp warning that this wasn’t something to take lightly. Yet, I couldn’t deny the results. My hands felt steadier, my reactions sharper. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

I found myself back in the training yard the next morning, the familiar sounds of clashing steel and shouting soldiers filling the air. My brother, Aric, was already there, his voice carrying over the din as he barked instructions at a younger squire. He noticed me immediately.

“Back again, little brother?” he called, his tone somewhere between amusement and irritation. “I thought yesterday’s fluke would be enough for you.”

I ignored his jab, tightening my grip on the wooden practice sword in my hand. The shard pulsed faintly against my chest, its rhythm steadying me. “Care for a rematch?”

His laughter was sharp and derisive, but he stepped into the circle, his sword at the ready. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you? Fine. Let’s see if lightning strikes twice.”

The match began, and for the first time, I felt something close to confidence. The shard’s hum sharpened, aligning with my breathing, my movements. I couldn’t see Aric’s strikes, but I could sense them—the faint shift in the air as his blade cut toward me, the subtle creak of the ground beneath his boots.

I deflected his first strike, then the second. His frustration grew with each failed attempt to break my defense. “What’s gotten into you?” he snapped, his voice tight with anger. “You’re—”

He didn’t finish. I stepped forward, my sword striking his midsection with just enough force to unbalance him. He stumbled, and I pressed the attack, my movements fluid, precise. When his sword finally fell to the ground, the silence in the yard was deafening.

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Aric stared at me, his breathing heavy, his expression unreadable. “How...?”

“Maybe I’ve been paying attention,” I said, lowering my sword.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out. But he only scoffed, picking up his fallen weapon. “Don’t get cocky, Caelan. One lucky win doesn’t mean anything.”

I stepped out of the circle, the shard’s hum fading into a faint murmur. It wasn’t luck. Not this time.

Later, I found myself in the library, as I so often did. Master Briar was waiting for me, his expression thoughtful as I sat across from him.

“You’ve been busy,” he said, his tone light but knowing. “Word travels fast, you know.”

I frowned. “Word about what?”

“Your match with Aric,” Briar replied. “Some of the soldiers saw it. They said you moved... differently. Like you could see his strikes coming before they landed.”

I hesitated, my fingers brushing against the medallion. “It’s the shard,” I admitted quietly. “It’s... doing something to me. Guiding me.”

Briar leaned forward, his curiosity evident. “Guiding you how?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know exactly. It’s like I can sense things—movements, shifts in the air. It’s not sight, but it’s close.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “You’ve stumbled onto something ancient, Caelan. Magic like this doesn’t simply appear—it chooses.”

“Chooses?” I echoed, the word feeling heavy on my tongue. “Why would it choose me?”

“That’s a question only you can answer,” Briar said. “But be careful. Magic is as dangerous as it is powerful. It doesn’t offer its gifts freely.”

That night, I sat cross-legged in my chambers once again, the medallion clutched tightly in my hand. The shard’s hum was sharp now, insistent, as though urging me to try again. I took a deep breath, focusing on the rhythm of my breathing, the steady beat of my heart.

The words from the book echoed in my mind. Feel the magic. Let it flow. Guide it to where it is needed.

This time, I didn’t force it. I let the shard’s energy move naturally, weaving through my fingers, my arms, my chest. The pain came again, sharp and biting, but I didn’t pull away. I embraced it, letting the shard’s hum steady me as the energy coursed through me.

When the pain finally subsided, I felt... different. Stronger. My muscles ached, but beneath the soreness was a warmth, a sense of connection I couldn’t explain. The shard’s hum was quiet now, almost soothing, as though pleased with my progress.

I opened my eyes to the same darkness I’d always known, but for the first time, I felt like I could see a path forward.

The next day, I returned to the training yard, the shard’s hum steady in my chest. Aric wasn’t there this time, but the soldiers greeted me with nods of acknowledgment. It was subtle, but I could feel the shift in their perception. I wasn’t just the blind boy anymore. I was something... more.

As I stepped into the sparring circle, I tightened my grip on the wooden sword in my hand. The shard pulsed faintly, its rhythm aligning with my movements.

This was only the beginning.