PART 9
1166 Words
The dawn that rose in the Dominion was no gentle light. The sky bled a sickly crimson, streaked with veins of silver that pulsed as though alive. The warriors of the Dawn Guard stirred from a restless sleep, their armor clinking softly, their eyes scanning the horizon for threats even before words passed between them. The girl woke stiff and cold, the ground offering no comfort. For a fleeting moment, she forgot where she was, expecting to hear the soft rustle of her grandmother in the kitchen, the lowing of cows beyond the fields. Instead, the wind howled, a sound like a hundred voices carrying whispers that gnawed at her mind.
Kaelen called the company together, her face grim. “We move at once,” she commanded, her voice steady and unquestioned. “The longer we linger, the closer the shadows draw.” Her gaze flickered to the girl. “Today, we begin your shaping.”
Confusion knotted in the girl’s chest. “Shaping?”
Kaelen did not answer, only led them through the jagged valley. Hours passed in silence, broken only by the crunch of boots on stone and the distant cries of unseen creatures. The hooded figure followed still, always behind, a silent phantom that none of the Dawn Guard welcomed. Jarek glared often at its shadow, muttering curses under his breath, but Kaelen allowed it, as though knowing it had some purpose she could not yet reveal.
At last, they reached a hollow in the cliffs. Here, the stone glowed faintly, veins of crystal running like rivers through its walls. The air hummed with a strange energy that made the girl’s skin prickle. Kaelen gestured for her to step forward.
“This place remembers light,” the commander said. “It is where we train those who carry it. If you are truly chosen, the spark will answer you here.”
The girl swallowed hard. Her hands trembled as she raised them, uncertain what to do. The memory of her past bursts of light—the shield of brilliance, the wave that destroyed the creatures—played in her mind, but she did not know how she had done it. She closed her eyes, breathing deep, willing the warmth to return.
At first, there was nothing. Only silence, her own frantic heartbeat, and the heavy weight of her doubt. She felt foolish, standing there while the hardened warriors watched, waiting for a miracle she could not summon. Then something stirred—a flicker, faint and deep in her chest. She seized it desperately, but the moment she pulled too hard, it exploded outward. Light seared across the hollow, blinding and uncontrolled. The warriors staggered back, shielding their eyes. The girl cried out as a searing pain burned through her arms, and she collapsed, smoke rising faintly from her skin.
“Enough!” Jarek snarled, his voice a low growl of anger. “She’ll kill us all before she learns to wield it. This is madness.”
Kaelen silenced him with a fierce glare, though doubt clouded even her face. The girl lay on the stone, shaking, tears hot on her cheeks. She had wanted to prove she belonged, but instead she felt like a curse.
Then the hooded figure stepped forward. For the first time, its voice was not only in her mind but aloud, deep and resonant. “She is untrained, not unworthy. The spark is not mastered through force. It is listened to.” Its ember-eyes fixed on the girl. “Do not command it. Let it speak.”
Kaelen bristled, her hand on her sword. “And what do you know of light, shadowborn?”
The figure did not answer her, only knelt beside the girl. She flinched, but its presence was strangely steadying. “Close your eyes,” it whispered, and she obeyed.
The world around her faded. She did not try to pull the spark. She simply listened. Beneath the whispers of the Dominion, beneath her racing heart, she heard it—a faint hum, soft as breath, waiting. Not a weapon, not a storm, but a song. She let it rise, not forcing, only opening herself to it.
This time, light flowed from her gently, curling around her fingers like water, glowing soft instead of burning. The hollow answered, its embedded crystals glowing brighter, pulsing in rhythm with her spark. Gasps rose from the warriors. The girl opened her eyes to see her hands bathed in silver warmth, her skin unscarred.
The hooded figure inclined its head, a motion of grave satisfaction. “There. Not a beast to be caged. A flame to be tended.”
Kaelen exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing. “So it is true,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet awe. “The spark has chosen well.”
Jarek spat into the dust, unwilling but silent. The others watched with a mixture of awe and unease, whispering of prophecy again. The girl felt both pride and terror. She had touched something vast, something that made her more than what she was—yet also bound her to a path she could not escape.
Training continued through the day. She learned to breathe with the spark, to let it move with her heartbeat. Sometimes it faltered, flickering out. Sometimes it flared too bright, cracking the stone around her. But slowly, she began to feel it not as something foreign, but as a part of her. When exhaustion overtook her, Kaelen called an end.
That night, around the ember-fire, the Dawn Guard spoke of their fallen comrades, of battles lost to shadows, of hopes long dimmed. The girl listened, each story sinking into her bones. These warriors were all that remained of a once-great order, clinging to purpose in a dying land. And now, impossibly, they looked to her as a sign of change.
Sleep came fitfully again. She dreamed of home, of her mother’s voice calling her back to the fields, of her grandmother’s words—“You will suffer, and you will rise.” But the dream twisted. Her village burned. Shadows crawled through the streets, and when she raised her hands to stop them, nothing came. Her spark was gone. She woke gasping, her hands clutching empty air.
The hooded figure watched from the edge of the fire, silent, as though it knew the weight of her dream.
Morning broke with a scream. The valley shuddered, and from the cliffs poured shadows in numbers greater than before. The Dawn Guard leaped to arms, blades flashing, bows singing. Kaelen’s voice cut through the chaos: “Protect the girl!”
But the girl knew the truth as the darkness surged. She was not only to be protected. She was the weapon they needed. Her hands glowed, brighter than before, as she stepped forward into the storm.
- Writer
