Chapter Three: Ashes of Blood and Stone
The rain came down in sheets, washing over the Kane courtyard like the sky wanted to drown the world. Lightning cut through the storm, glinting off the black stone that bore the family sigil — cracked from years of training, scarred by power, but still standing.
So was he.
Mason stood with his fists clenched, breathing hard. His shirt clung to his body, soaked and streaked with mud. Across from him, Richard Kane's silhouette loomed like a monument that refused to erode.
"Seventeen years," Richard said, voice calm but carrying the weight of a sermon. "Seventeen years, and still… nothing."
Mason's jaw tightened. "I'm trying."
"You've been trying since you could walk." Richard stepped closer, boots sinking into the mud with measured grace. "Arc awakened lightning at twelve. Crystal blinked through walls at eleven. And you—" His eyes flicked down, dissecting Mason with disappointment. "You break bones trying to lift a rock."
The words cut deeper than any strike. Mason's nails bit into his palms, but he stayed silent. He'd learned long ago that talking only made it worse.
From the steps of the mansion, Diane's voice broke through the rain. "Richard, that's enough!"
Richard's head turned slightly. "You've said that for years, Diane."
"He's your son!" she snapped. "You can't keep treating him like this—"
"He's weak," Richard said simply. "And weakness is a disease that spreads."
Mason's chest burned, anger mixing with shame. "I said I'm trying—"
Richard's hand shot out — faster than thought — and struck Mason across the face. The crack echoed across the courtyard. Mason staggered, blood spilling from his lip, but didn't fall.
"Don't talk back to me like one of your street peers," Richard said. "If you were born Kane, then act like it."
"Richard!" Diane's voice shook now, trembling with fury and fear. "You'll destroy him before he even gets a chance to live!"
Richard turned to her slowly, eyes hard as obsidian. "Better destroyed than forgettable."
And then, before Mason could move, before Diane could finish the next word—
The sound came first. A wet, muffled crack.
Mason's heart stopped. Diane's body slumped forward, blood staining her dress, a crimson bloom spreading like a curse.
Richard stood motionless, hand still outstretched, as though he'd merely brushed dust from his coat.
Mason's scream tore through the storm. "MOTHER!"
He fell to his knees, hands catching her before she hit the ground. Her eyes fluttered once — soft, unfocused. "M-Mason…"
He gripped her hand. "Stay with me. Please, just—please—"
Her fingers went limp.
For a long, terrible moment, nothing existed. No rain. No sound. Just the hollow silence between heartbeats.
Then something inside Mason cracked — not a sound, not a thought, but a pressure.
The ground trembled.
Pebbles floated. The air shimmered. Heat rippled around him as if the world itself struggled to contain what was waking. Fire sparked along his skin, threading through his veins like veins of molten gold. The rain hissed when it touched him.
Richard watched, silent, studying his son the way a scientist observes a detonating weapon.
"Finally," he murmured. "There it is."
Mason rose slowly, his eyes glowing faintly amber. The rain evaporated before it could touch him. The stones beneath his feet shifted, orbiting him in fragments of levitating rubble.
"You killed her," Mason said. His voice was low, even — but underneath it was the sound of something ancient tearing itself awake.
Richard tilted his head, unfazed. "I gave you what she never could — purpose."
"You call this purpose?" Mason raised his hand. Fire coiled around his arm, spreading until it looked like molten armor. "You murdered my mother."
"I created power," Richard said, stepping forward. "And if she had to die for you to grasp it, then her death was worth it."
Mason moved first. The earth erupted beneath his feet, launching him forward. He twisted mid-air, slammed a fist toward Richard, and the ground itself exploded in a shockwave of molten stone. Fire blazed across his arms, whipping in arcs that split the rain into steam.
Richard countered with a flick of his wrist. Mason's attack shattered midair, an invisible force dispersing the flames like dust. The shockwave sent Mason tumbling, but he rolled, slammed both palms into the ground, and sent a wall of molten rock surging forward.
Richard's eyes narrowed. "Not bad."
Mason ducked low, pivoted, and with a twist of his torso, sent a spiral of flame circling outward — one fluid motion, the next flowing like instinct. He didn't fight like a soldier. He fought like a storm.
Every step, every strike carried rhythm — fire bending with his movements, earth following his will. He spun, redirected debris, slammed pillars into the ground and burst them upward in perfect sync.
Richard stepped through the chaos like it was nothing. "Yes," he said softly, almost proud. "That's it. That's the son I've been waiting for."
"Don't—" Mason's voice cracked as he launched forward again. "—call me your son!"
Their powers collided, earth and fire crashing against invisible psychic force. The explosion sent shards of stone flying in all directions. The Kane crest beneath them cracked and glowed from the heat.
When the smoke cleared, Mason was on one knee, chest heaving, arms still wreathed in fire. Richard stood opposite him, one sleeve torn, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
He smiled — small, but genuine. "You've finally awakened, Mason."
Mason looked up at him, eyes burning like twin embers. "I swear," he said quietly, each word soaked in fury, "I'll erase the Kane name from this world. Every trace. Every memory."
Richard's smile didn't fade. "Then do it, if you can."
The storm howled around them, fire and rain clashing in a hiss of steam. Between them, Diane's body lay still — the price of power, the seed of vengeance.
And above the ruins of the courtyard, the heavens rumbled like they, too, bore witness to the birth of something catastrophic.