Rain hammered the roof of the South Annex like an angry drum. It was the kind of downpour that seemed almost personal, as if the sky itself disapproved of whatever was happening inside.
Kael stood by the window, watching students trickle in through the storm. They arrived wet, grumbling, some shivering beneath threadbare cloaks. One of them, however, walked through the torrent without an ounce of discomfort—like the water bent around her.
Rin Thorne.
She was always last.
Drenched head to toe, and yet bone-dry. Her fiery-red hair crackled faintly with static, and her eyes—two rings of molten gold—burned with restrained rage. She gave Kael a look that could've ignited the curtains before silently dropping into her usual seat at the back.
He didn't comment. Not yet.
The rest of Class D was quiet today. Some of it was the weather. Some of it was Rin.
She had a reputation. Word traveled fast in an academy like Virelith, even to the bottom tier. Rumors said she set her last professor's desk on fire—while he was still sitting behind it. Others claimed she'd once melted a dueling arena floor during a sparring match and had to be physically restrained by two golems.
Kael wasn't sure how much was true. But he could tell just by looking at her: this girl was one spark away from becoming a disaster—or a force of nature.
"Change of plans today," Kael said to the class. "No spells. No lectures. We're going outside."
Groans erupted immediately.
"It's raining!" Verik protested.
"It's lightning!" added another student.
Kael raised a brow. "You're sorcerers, not softbread nobles on a picnic. Get up."
They obeyed—reluctantly, some glaring, others resigned. But Kael's presence didn't leave room for argument.
As the students followed him outside, the storm intensified. Wind howled through the trees lining the dueling fields. Thunder rumbled like a growl of distant giants. Kael led them to the open circle of scorched stone where mages once tested their limits. It hadn't been used in years—too unstable, too raw.
Perfect.
The Storm Trial
Kael stood at the center of the ring, hair soaked, cloak billowing. Lightning flashed behind him, making him look more ghost than man.
"Magic thrives on control," he shouted over the storm. "But today, I want the opposite."
The students exchanged nervous glances.
Kael pointed to the sky. "This storm? It's wild mana. Pure, chaotic, elemental. It's not here to hurt you—unless you let it. I want each of you to step forward, one at a time, and call on your element in harmony with the storm. No shaping. No fighting. Just flow."
"Is this safe?" Lyra asked cautiously.
Kael grinned. "Absolutely not."
One by one, the students obeyed.
Some managed small feats—flames flickering without dying in the rain, gusts of wind bending around their arms, sparks dancing harmlessly across soaked stone. Others failed completely.
Then it was Rin's turn.
She stepped into the circle like a queen entering a throne room, soaked boots splashing against the stone.
The moment she entered, the wind stopped. Rain slowed. The air itself held its breath.
Rin looked at Kael. "And what happens if I don't want to flow with the storm?"
Kael met her gaze. "Then show me what happens when you fight it."
She closed her eyes.
A long breath in.
Then—fire.
It didn't roar. It didn't crackle.
It screamed.
A column of crimson flame erupted around her, defying the rain, cutting through the storm like a blade through silk. Lightning struck the edge of the ring, then again, then again—drawn to her as if answering a call.
The flames around Rin didn't look normal. They shimmered red and black, like blood and shadow. She didn't chant. She didn't move her hands. The fire came willingly, hungrily.
Kael took a step forward.
The flame wavered. Not weakening—coiling. Sensing something.
"You're channeling something deeper than elemental fire," Kael said quietly. "Where does it come from?"
Rin opened her eyes. They glowed like molten glass. "I don't know. It's just always… been there."
Another bolt of lightning struck behind her, but she didn't flinch.
Kael narrowed his eyes. This wasn't just high aptitude. It was legacy—ancient magic, sealed bloodlines. Possibly worse.
Cursed fire.
Not unlike his own.
He raised his hand, slowly.
The fire responded.
And then Rin collapsed.
Aftermath
Kael caught her before she hit the ground. Her skin burned hot, but her mana signature flickered weakly—like a candle about to gutter out.
"She's fine," he said to the other students who rushed forward. "Exhausted. But fine."
He carried her inside, ignoring the stares. Her breathing was steady. No burns. No damage. But her mana was... twisted.
He laid her gently on a bench in the infirmary wing of the Annex.
"She's been using a suppressor charm," he realized aloud, noticing a faint scar on her collarbone—where a warding gem might once have rested.
"Someone was afraid of what she could become."
Or worse, trying to control it.
Elsewhere – Chamber of Eyes
In a darkened tower, filled with watching crystals and echoing whispers, a masked magister leaned toward an orb of stormlight showing Rin's fiery outburst.
"She's awakening," the voice rasped.
"She'll need guidance," said another—smoother, but colder.
"No," the first voice hissed. "She'll need chains."
The orb shimmered.
And in the center of the fire, a symbol flickered into view—a rune not seen since the Obsidian Flame last walked these halls.