Kael Varos — Age 13 Three Days After the Throne Room
I. The Slow Return — A Kingdom's Eyes on the Storm
The sun dipped behind Elyndria's towers, painting the sky in molten orange and violet, as the royal silver carriage rolled back through the academy gates. Its polished frame caught the last light and scattered it across the gathered crowd like shards of starlight.
Silence fell over the courtyard.
Not fear.
Not confusion.
But the charged hush reserved for stories that would one day be told as legend.
Students froze mid-conversation.
Instructors stopped their lectures.
Senior mages halted mid-incantation as they felt the ripple of unfamiliar power brush across their senses.
The carriage door opened.
Kael stepped out first.
Valdyros sat perched on his shoulder, silver eyes half-lidded, scales catching the dusk like living fire.
Lyria emerged next, her hair catching the sunset and turning to copper light. She slipped a hand onto Kael's shoulder.
"You're doing great," she murmured.
Ryven hopped out after her, landing in an exaggerated fighter's pose."WE'RE BACK! Make way for future legends!"
Nira descended carefully, hugging her satchel like a shield against the hundreds of curious eyes.
Korran followed, solid and steady, gaze sweeping the courtyard like a quiet guardian.
Serin stepped out last, cloak immaculate, posture straight, moving with the unbothered grace of someone born to be stared at.
Whispers rose like wind:
"That's him…""The storm child…""He stood before the king…""And lived…""All seven… they're always together…"
Kael's throat tightened.
Valdyros' voice slid calmly through his mind.
« They look upon you as they would a rising sovereign. You may as well stand like one. »
Kael exhaled slowly.
He wasn't ready to be anyone's symbol.
But his circle walked beside him.
And somehow, that made it all feel almost… bearable.
II. The Adventurer's Guild — A Living Thunderstorm
Later that day, the seven stood before the Adventurer's Guild.
The guild towered over the street, its stone walls etched with sigils of sword and flame. Lanterns burned bright above its entrance, and the carved emblem of Elyndria's Guild—an open gauntlet holding a rising sun—hung proudly overhead.
Kael pushed open the heavy doors.
Chaos swallowed them.
Inside, the guild was a riot of sound and motion:
Swords clanged as two armored warriors sparred in a side ring.
A bard pounded out a raucous tune on a lute by the hearth.
Hunters in leather and scales argued over bounties.
A pair of beast tamers tried—and failed—to restrain a horned wolf pup chewing on a table leg.
Smoke, roasted meat, spilled ale, and faint traces of Source filled the air.
Ryven's eyes lit up."This place is PERFECT. I'm gonna live here."
Valdyros sniffed disdainfully.
« It smells like steel, sweat, and poor life choices. Fitting. »
Nira giggled softly.
Korran nodded respectfully to passing warriors.
Serin carefully did not touch anything.
Lyria took it all in with a grin.
They reached the front desk—
And stopped.
Three large, drunk adventurers were wrestling directly in front of the counter, smashing into chairs and narrowly missing the receptionist—a frazzled woman with ink-stained fingers and an expression that screamed "chronically underpaid."
"STOP BREAKING MY FURNITURE!" she roared."YOU ARE NOT PAID FOR INTERIOR DEMOLITION—PUT HIM DOWN—NOT ON THE LEDGER—"
Kael stepped around the brawl and cleared his throat.
"Excuse me," he said politely. "We're here to register our D-Rank licenses. The king—"
A meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder.
One of the men leaned in, breath thick with ale."Oi, kid. Can't you see we're busy? Come back when you've grown a beard."
The entire guild went quiet.
Kael turned his head.
Smiled.
And let his aura slip.
Just a fraction.
BOOM.
King Presence slammed into the room like a thunderclap.
All three men hit the ground as if the floor were magnetized, faces flattening into the stone so hard cracks spiderwebbed outward.
Tankards toppled.
Lanterns swayed.
A few lesser-ranked adventurers staggered back, clutching their chests.
The receptionist froze mid-yell, quill dangling from her fingers.
Every eye in the hall locked onto Kael.
Ryven whispered, awed,"That… was the single coolest thing I've ever seen."
Serin sighed."Overkill. Dramatic. Excessive."Beat."…Effective."
Nira covered her mouth to stifle a shocked laugh.
Korran nodded once, solemnly impressed.
Lyria's lips tugged into a proud grin.
Valdyros purred.
« Kneeling suits them. »
Kael winced, looking at the cracked floor."I… might've overdone it."
III. Enter Guildmaster Vessa Rynn — The Flame of the Hall
A sharp voice cut through the silence.
"Who in the nine blazing realms just cracked my guild floor?"
Heads turned toward the staircase.
Descending with lethal grace and simmering irritation was Vessa Rynn.
Orange hair flared like fire in the lantern light.
Golden eyes smoldered with intensity.
Her cloak flicked behind her like a trailing flame, revealing worn armor underneath—functional, not ornamental.
She stopped at the bottom step.
Looked at the crater.
Looked at the groaning men.
Looked at Kael.
Then she saw Valdyros.
Both of her eyebrows rose.
"Well," she said, lips curving into a slow, dangerous grin. "The king's storm finally walks through my door."
Kael scratched the back of his neck."Uh… sorry about the floor. They grabbed me."
"Good," Vessa replied. "Cracking the ground is an acceptable response for idiots."
The three men whimpered.
Vessa jerked her chin toward Kael's group."Come on. You seven have royal D-Ranks, which means you're my problem now."
Ryven whispered, "I like her."
Valdyros' tail swished.
« This one is sharp. I approve. »
IV. The Seven Chosen — A New Academy Path
That evening, the academy's Great Hall glowed with floating azure lanterns. Ancient banners—Elyndria's crest, the old academies, forgotten knight orders—hung from the vaulted ceiling.
Kael and the others stood in a line before the raised dais.
There, Headmaster Aeldric waited. Robes pristine, silver hair pulled back, gaze cool and dissecting.
"You seven," Aeldric said, "have disrupted structure, routine, and expectation."
Aeldric's eyes glinted faintly.
"And for the first time in many years," he continued, "I find myself… impressed."
Ryven jolted. "Wait. Was that praise?"
"Do not become attached," Aeldric replied dryly.
He lifted a scroll bearing the king's seal.
"By royal edict: You, Kael Varos, Lyria Saren, Serin Vail, Ryven Dask, Nira Elen, and Korran Hale—"
They all straightened subtly.
"—are hereby excused from standard academy coursework."
Shock rippled through the seven.
"Instead," Aeldric went on, "you will undergo elite training under the crown's appointed masters."
The hall doors opened.
Three figures entered.
Captain Daen Reth — Body
Daen stepped forward, armor gleaming, presence heavy as a storm front.
"Your bodies will break," he said simply. "Then rebuild. Then break again. Only through this will you live long enough to matter."
Ryven whispered, "Fun."
Master Eiran Thalos — Mind
Eiran followed, hands clasped behind his back, expression as calm and cutting as a drawn blade.
"I will sharpen your awareness, discipline your instincts, and grind foolishness out of you," he said. "Or die trying."
Ryven leaned toward Kael. "That part was probably about me."
Master Sylara Veylon — Soul
The last figure moved with quiet, measured steps.
Blue hair fell to her waist in loose waves. Amethyst eyes glowed faintly with contained power. Her robes were inked with ancient sigils that seemed to breathe with her.
Sylara inclined her head.
"And I," she said, voice deep and calm as ocean depths, "will awaken the paths your souls are meant to walk."
Kael felt something in his chest stir at her words.
Sylara's gaze brushed over him—and for a heartbeat, she saw through him.
« Careful, child, » Valdyros murmured. « This one will peel back layers you do not know you have. »
Kael swallowed.
"I'm ready," he said.
He hoped that wasn't a lie.
V. Seven Who Rise — Elite Training Begins
The next morning, they stood on a cliffside training field carved directly into the mountain.
Azure lanterns floated in the air, stabilized by Source. The city glittered far below. The wind tasted like cold iron and distant rain.
Daen, Eiran, and Sylara faced the seven.
"Today," Daen said, "we begin turning potential into something useful."
"Try not to die," Eiran added.
Sylara smiled faintly. "If you do, at least make it interesting."
Valdyros snorted.
« I like her. »
Then training began.
Lyria — Edge of the Aqua
Lyria stood in a circle of painted runes, hands raised.
Sylara's voice drifted around her. "Soul Source flows best when guided by conviction. What do you wish to protect?"
Lyria didn't hesitate. "My people. My friends. Him." She flicked her eyes toward Kael.
Water stirred—a soft spiral at first.
"Then let the water answer that promise," Sylara said.
Lyria swept her arms.
The water sharpened into a compressed arc.
SHRRRIP.
A stone training dummy—dense, reinforced—was sliced diagonally from shoulder to hip, the upper half sliding off and crashing to the ground.
Ryven's jaw dropped."Remind me never to make you mad."
Kael stared. "That was… incredible."
Lyria flushed, smiling shyly. "You haven't seen anything yet."
Serin — Dance of the Falcon
Across the field, Daen pressed Serin mercilessly.
"Hesitation kills. Your noble training is polished—but predictable. Again."
Daen lunged with a brutal overhead slash.
Serin side-stepped, parried, and twisted, redirecting the force past his body.
"Better," Daen said. "Now blend it."
Serin inhaled.
Mind Gate sharpened.
Body Gate synced.
He advanced.
Two cuts.
Spin.
Low sweep.
Riposte.
He wove precision footwork with new, aggressive angles Daen had hammered into him.
Their blades clashed again and again in ringing arcs.
At last, Serin slipped inside Daen's guard and stopped his wooden blade a hair's breadth from the captain's throat.
Daen smiled—just barely.
"There. A falcon's strike instead of a caged songbird."
Serin bowed, sweat on his brow, eyes bright.
Ryven — Chaos into Craft
Ryven's arena looked like a disaster zone.
Scorch marks. Smashed dummies. A smoking crater.
Eiran massaged his temples.
"Ryven. Focus. Fire is not a personality trait. It's a tool."
Ryven grinned. "Why not both?"
Three targets popped up around him in a triangle—each at a different distance and height.
"Three targets. Ten seconds," Eiran said. "Hit all three without razing the field."
Ryven exhaled.
Flame Source gathered at his fists and feet, whipping into small, controlled bursts instead of wild explosions.
He launched forward.
A flaming heel-kick shattered the first target.
He vaulted off the splintering wood, spinning midair, sending a focused fireball into the second.
Landing in a slide, he punched the ground, sending a narrow line of fire racing to the third dummy's base—burning through its legs with surgical precision.
It toppled gracefully.
The ground stayed intact.
Ryven threw up his arms."NAILED IT!"
Eiran looked at the unburned grass, then at Ryven.
"…Acceptable."
Ryven beamed. "That's basically a love confession from you."
Nira — The Quiet Shield
Nira stood in a glowing circle as Sylara and Daen hurled controlled attacks at her—a barrage of wooden projectiles and compressed air bursts.
She raised shaking hands.
Green Soul Source blossomed into a rounded barrier, translucent and shimmering like glass made of leaves.
THUD.
THWACK.
CRACK.
Impacts rocked her shield.
Cracks laced across its surface.
"Nira," Sylara said calmly over the assault, "why are you afraid?"
"Because I'm not as strong as the rest of them!" she cried.
The barrage intensified.
"Wrong," Sylara said. "Your strength is different. You are the one who lets them stand when they should have fallen."
Nira gritted her teeth.
She thought of Lyria bleeding.
Ryven laughing at the face of danger.
Korran standing alone against three foes.
Kael, half-broken, still rising.
"I… won't let them break," she whispered.
Her aura flared.
The barrier thickened, cracks mending as new layers of green energy overlaid the old.
Daen's final strike slammed into the shield—
And stopped.
He lowered his arm, eyes widening.
Sylara smiled. "Very good. A healer who can stand under pressure is worth an army."
Nira panted, then smiled with tearful relief.
Korran — Unshaken
Korran stood alone in a stone ring.
Daen circled him, wielding a massive training mace.
"Most shields crack under repeated force," Daen said. "Let's see how long you last."
He swung.
The mace hammered into Korran's forearms as the boy crossed them in front of his chest.
Korran slid back half a step.
Daen swung again.
And again.
Each strike was enough to break stone.
Korran's muscles shook.
Body Gate reinforced his bones and tendons.
"Why stand?" Daen asked between blows. "Why not dodge?"
Korran's eyes burned.
"So they hit me," he grunted, "instead of the others."
Daen struck with full force—the biggest blow yet.
The impact rang like a gong.
Dust puffed from Korran's boots as they sank an inch into the ground.
But he did not fall.
Daen stared… then nodded.
"You are a wall," he said. "We'll make you a fortress."
Kael — Flash Step
On another platform, Eiran faced Kael.
"Your instincts saved you in the courtyard," he said. "Now refine them before they get you—or others—killed."
He vanished.
Kael felt the disturbance and moved instinctively.
Lightning flickered down his legs—concentrating in the balls of his feet.
FLASH.
He disappeared in a crackle of light and air displacement, reappearing three strides away.
Eiran's blade whistled through where his neck had been.
"Again," Eiran said.
They repeated.
Daen joined in, two-on-one.
Eiran struck from the front.
Daen blurred in from the side.
Kael let the storm answer.
Mind Gate widened his perception.
Body Gate fueled his muscles.
Soul Gate laced lightning around his movements.
He became streaks of motion—Here, then gone—Reappearing behind Daen with a mock blade at his ribs—Dodging Eiran's strike with a twist and a flash—
Until finally Kael appeared behind both of them, hand hovering at the back of Eiran's neck.
All three stilled.
Daen chuckled low."That was worthy of kings."
Eiran allowed the faintest hint of approval."You're learning."
Valdyros purred overhead.
« Good. I was tired of watching you nearly die. »
Kael — Tempest Fang
Later, Sylara drew a glowing circle beneath Kael's feet. The runes hummed with resonance—Body, Mind, and Soul intertwining.
"Call your storm into form," she said. "Not as a burst. As a blade."
Kael closed his eyes.
He thought of the battlefield of his first life.
The courtyard of assassins.
The throne room's test.
Lyria's blood.
Lightning rose.
It wrapped around his arm, condensed around his grip, and lengthened into his sword becoming a sword of pure storm-light—white-blue, translucent, humming violently.
The air trembled.
Static raised every hair on every arm in a ten-yard radius.
Ryven whispered, "That is the coolest thing I've ever—"
CRACK—SHHHH.
The blade shattered, spraying fragments of lightning skyward like a reversed meteor shower.
They fizzled out in tiny thunderpops overhead.
Sylara's eyes shone with something close to delight.
"A soul-born technique," she murmured. "Wild. Unstable. Dangerous. Beautiful."
Valdyros' voice deepened.
« You are not ready to hold that storm in steel. Not yet. One day, you'll wield a blade forged where dragonfire and lightning meet. Then… Tempest Fang will live. »
Kael's heart pounded.
One day, huh?
He intended to survive long enough to see it.
VI. Around the Fire — The Circle Strengthens
Night draped itself over the academy.
The seven gathered around a crackling fire on the cliff's edge, the city lights glittering below like a fallen constellation.
Ryven leapt up, re-enacting Kael's duel with Daen using a stick and far too many sound effects.
"And then Kael was like KRAKABOOOOM—"He swung the stick, tripped over a rock, and almost fell into the fire.
Nira yelped and grabbed him by the back of his tunic."Careful!"
Korran calmly turned meat skewers over the flames, expression content.Serin corrected details out of sheer compulsion.
"The captain did not say 'Nice hit, kid.' He said, 'That was worthy of kings.' Use his exact words."
Lyria leaned lightly against Kael's shoulder, sling neatly bound across her torso, eyes reflecting firelight.
"You looked… different," she murmured. "In the throne room.
Stronger.
But still you."
Kael stared into the flames."I felt… seen.
And weighed. Like I was being measured as a weapon."
"You're not just a weapon," Lyria said. "You're Kael."
That settled somewhere deep inside his chest.
Valdyros curled around them like a warm, scaled blanket, tail flicking lazily.
« Enjoy this, » he said. « The world will not always give you fires and friends. »
Kael looked around the circle.
Ryven's grin.
Korran's steady calm.
Nira's worried kindness.
Serin's proud, guarded gaze.
Lyria's warmth.
Valdyros' ancient watchfulness.
For the first time in days, the storm inside him quieted—
Not gone.
But… at peace.
VII. Malek's Shadow — The Web Tightens
Far below the city's glow, the undercity pulsed with its own heartbeat.
In a chamber lit by blue witchflame, Malek Voren sat on a dark stone throne, shadow rippling like smoke at his feet.
"Report," he said.
A lieutenant knelt, head lowered."The boy lives. The king shields him. He trains under the best Elyndria has."
Malek smiled—a slow, vicious thing.
"Excellent."
He picked up a crystal sphere etched with Solis's sigil.
"This world is so eager to sharpen its brightest blades," he murmured. "They forget someone else might pick them up."
He crushed the crystal in his fist.
Shards fell like dead stars.
"When the time is right, Kael Varos will help me destroy Solis."
His eyes glittered.
"And if Elyndria stands in the way—"He spread his hands. "Then death shall follow them."
Thunder rolled through the chamber, though no sky lay overhead.
VIII. The Architect's Whisper
That night, Kael's dreams turned white.
He stood in endless light, stars scattered like dust. The Prime Architect approached—form shifting, eyes holding galaxies.
"You walk with six hearts now," the Architect said. "Each a thread in the tapestry of what you must become."
Kael looked down.
He saw shadows of them around him—Lyria's blue flame, Serin's silver edge, Ryven's red blaze, Korran's steady gold, Nira's soft green, Valdyros' storm-lit form.
"Will I be strong enough to protect them?" Kael asked.
The Architect regarded him for a long moment.
"Kings that walk alone burn out," the Architect said. "Kings that walk together with his people reshape worlds."
Lightning crackled softly along Kael's hands.
"Then I'll walk with them," he said. "No matter what's coming."
The Architect's eyes gleamed.
"That," he replied, "is why I chose you."
Light flared—
Kael woke with a sharp inhale, fingers buzzing with faint electricity.
Outside, dawn crept up the horizon.
Tomorrow, the world would still see him as a storm.
But now, he knew:
He was a storm that did not rise alone.
And the seven who rose with him…
Would change everything.