Elior sat on the floor of the hidden chamber, heart still pounding.
The pain had faded, but its echo lingered in his bones—like something ancient had been stirred inside him and hadn't quite settled yet.
His palm itched.
The mark—once a simple circle—now branched outward like a constellation etched beneath his skin. It pulsed with a faint silvery glow in time with his heartbeat.
He raised his hand. Focused.
And for a brief moment… the floating glyphs above him shimmered in response.
What is this? he thought.
He didn't know the words. He didn't know the rules. But something in him did. A memory that wasn't a memory. A whisper at the edge of thought.
"Breathe."
He didn't hear it.
He remembered it.
Not from a voice—but from instinct, embedded in blood and bone.
So he did.
In.
Out.
Slower.
He closed his eyes.
The world dimmed… and another world stirred.
He felt the space around him shift. Tiny currents of energy that moved like threads through the air. Light and dark. Cold and heat. A web of forces woven through reality.
Qi?The word came unbidden. Foreign, but familiar.
He reached for one thread—hesitant, like touching a spider's silk.
The moment he did, something inside clicked.
And the mark on his palm flared.
Energy surged through his arm—not violent like before, but alive, responsive. It flowed down his veins, into his chest, his core. Not just warmth—clarity. Focus. Heightened senses.
He opened his eyes.
The chamber looked sharper, more vivid. Every crack in the wall, every floating glyph, hummed with presence. His own heartbeat echoed like a distant drum, steady and strong.
He stood.
And felt the difference.
Not strength. Not speed. Something more subtle.
Balance. Awareness.
He stepped forward—and noticed a piece of shattered crystal on the floor. Without thinking, he reached down… and as his fingers touched it, the fragment lifted into the air.
He gasped.
The crystal floated between his hands, glowing faintly.
No wires. No tricks.
Only will.
Only intent.
And when he released it—It gently settled back down.
He stood there, breathless, not from exhaustion… but awe.
This wasn't madness. This wasn't a curse.
It was a beginning.
Back at the top of the stairs, night had fallen completely. The city lights flickered far in the distance, oblivious to the old world that had just stirred beneath their feet.
Elior stepped out into the cold air, the mark on his palm fading back to stillness.
Something was awakening.
And now, so was he.