The first rays of dawn crept across the Aldercrest Academy grounds, casting long shadows over the training arena. The air, still heavy with the chill of the night, smelled faintly of damp earth and the faintest trace of ash. Students gathered in clusters, preparing for their morning drills, their excited murmurs cutting through the quiet.

  Kael stood at the edge of the arena, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. His dark hair was tousled from the wind, a few strands falling into his eyes. His hand rested on the pommel of the sword at his side, though the bde was not drawn. Instead, it was a simple ornament—an intricately carved scabbard wrapped in cloth. To the untrained eye, it seemed nothing more than a decorative piece, but Kael knew better.

  The sword was Rael.

  Rael, his ever-watchful knight, who had been with him since childhood. The knight who had raised him, trained him, and stood by his side when Kael’s parents sent him to the academy to learn the ways of magic and combat.

  Though Kael could never truly remember a time when Rael hadn’t been there, he knew that his bond with the knight went deeper than any student-master retionship. Rael was... something else. Something not entirely human. Or living. But Kael didn’t question it—he couldn’t. Rael had been his protector, and that was enough.

  A soft voice broke his reverie.

  "Kael, ready for today?"

  Kael turned to see Rael, not standing in full armor as he had when Kael was younger, but in the form of the sword. Its ornamentation gleamed in the early light, an intricate design of runes that Kael could never quite decipher. It y against his side like an old friend, silent yet ever present.

  "Always ready," Kael replied, his tone steady but carrying the weight of something unspoken.

  The academy’s bell rang, signaling the start of the sparring session. Students quickly took their positions, lining the arena in preparation for the battles ahead. Among them was Rael, or rather, the sword, now resting securely in Kael’s hands. It was a reassuring weight, though it was never quite clear to Kael whether Rael’s sword form was a tool or a companion.

  Kael stepped forward into the ring, taking his stance as he had done countless times before. Across from him stood a familiar face—Rael’s longtime sparring partner, Lysander. The boy was an adept user of Water magic, always calm and collected in battle. But Kael? He had no such control over his abilities. His fire was chaotic, wild, and votile.

  "Ready, Kael?" Lysander asked, his smirk challenging.

  "I’ll be ready when you are," Kael shot back, his hands twitching in anticipation. The familiar warmth of his fire began to stir within him.

  The two circled each other, and Kael could feel the students watching from the sidelines, their eyes filled with varying degrees of excitement and curiosity. Some admired his raw power, while others dismissed it as too unstable. Kael didn’t care. His fire was his only ally in a world where he was so different.

  Lysander’s hand shot out, a stream of water unching toward Kael. The young fire-wielder twisted his body, dodging the jet of water with ease. His fingers crackled with fme as he swung his arm, sending a burst of fire toward Lysander.

  The fmes roared through the air, a dangerous force of nature, but Lysander was quick. He summoned a wall of water to douse the fire, the hiss of steam rising into the air.

  “You’re getting predictable, Kael,” Lysander called out, his voice dripping with the same casual confidence that made Kael’s teeth grit in frustration.

  Kael didn’t respond. Instead, he focused, drawing more energy from the fmes within him, his body becoming a conduit for the explosive power that was both a gift and a curse. He swirled the fire around him, creating a ring of fme that encircled him like an unstoppable barrier.

  But as the fmes surged, something else stirred within him. The wind picked up suddenly, a gust strong enough to disrupt the fmes, pushing them back.

  Rael’s sword form felt heavier in his grip, as though urging him to draw deeper from the well of power he knew he couldn’t fully control. His chest tightened. There it was again—the feeling that there was more to him than he understood, more than just fire and fury.

  Rael’s silent presence urged him forward, a reminder that he was not alone in this fight.

  “Rael…” Kael whispered, and the air seemed to still as if the sword could hear him.

  In that moment, the fme inside him fred. The power surged through him uncontrolbly, and Kael felt it—a force not entirely of fire, but something else, something primal, something ancient. It radiated from his chest and spiraled outward. The wind howled in response, twisting around him like a storm.

  Lysander’s face turned from smug confidence to genuine concern. “Kael, control it!”

  But Kael couldn’t. The fire and wind twisted together, a roaring storm that threatened to consume everything. And then—everything stopped. A massive pressure pushed against the elements, and the storm settled.

  The arena fell silent.

  Kael stood there, his chest heaving, his hands still crackling with unstable energy. Rael’s sword form thrummed in his hand, its power pulsing through the air as though connected to Kael’s very soul.

  Lysander slowly lowered his guard, his eyes wide. “What… was that?”

  Kael didn’t know how to answer. He had felt something shift, something deep within him. The fire… wasn’t just fire anymore. It was something far greater.

  And yet, Kael was left with more questions than answers.

  "Just a trick," Kael muttered, trying to sound unaffected. But inside, doubt gnawed at him. Was this the power of his Dragon and Demon cores trying to surface? Or something else?

  Rael’s presence seemed to echo silently in the back of his mind. A reminder that Kael was far more than he seemed—he just had to find a way to understand it.