Kaelis learned quickly that silence carried more weight than noise.

  The training grounds were empty at this hour, the stone platforms cold beneath his boots. A thin mist clung to the ground, curling around the pillars like something half-alive. He preferred it this way—no eyes, no expectations. Just repetition.

  He raised his hand, feeling the familiar resistance before the spark formed.

  Twilight Spark.

  A small flare of light snapped into existence between his fingers, unstable, flickering as if unsure whether it wanted to exist at all. Kaelis narrowed his eyes and adjusted his breathing, slowing the pulse in his chest. The spark steadied, then dimmed exactly as he intended.

  Control first. Power later.

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  He dismissed it and stepped forward, activating Shadow Step. The world blurred, edges softening as his body slipped a half-beat out of alignment. He reappeared three meters ahead, boots scraping stone.

  Too shallow, he thought.

  Again.

  This time he pushed slightly harder, not more energy—just better timing. The shift was smoother, quieter. His reflection in a nearby pillar lagged a fraction of a second behind him.

  Kaelis frowned.

  That was new.

  He turned his wrist, eyes drawn to the faint, almost-imaginary mark beneath his skin. It wasn’t a symbol—not yet—but sometimes, when he focused too hard, it felt like something was pressing back.

  He lowered his arm.

  The instructors called it potential. Others whispered different words.

  Kaelis didn’t care for any of them.

  By midday, sweat clung to his collar and his muscles burned with the dull ache of overuse. He welcomed it. Pain was honest. Pain didn’t lie.

  As he left the grounds, he noticed the stares.

  They weren’t hostile—just cautious. Curious.

  He’d felt it growing over the past few weeks. Not fame. Not fear. Something else. Like people sensed a shift but couldn’t name it.

  Kaelis kept his head down and walked on.