Evening settled over the city like a soft blanket of smoke and gold. The sky outside my window bled warm colors through the glass, casting long amber streaks across the wooden floor. I sat at the table, my dinner half-eaten and cooling on the plate. Every bite tasted like ash, not because the food was bad, but because my thoughts were too loud to let flavor through.
My mother was a Deviant. Just like me.
The realization still hadn't sunk in fully. All this time, I'd lived beside someone who wielded power like it was nothing, while I'd been mocked in the streets for having none. Now I had it. Too much of it, maybe. And someone had already tried to kill me for it.
I stabbed a slice of roasted root with my fork and pushed it around the plate. My appetite had fled hours ago.
A knock came at the gate.
I flinched.
My mother, who had been standing near the window, didn't. She didn't even look surprised. Her arms were crossed tightly, her eyes flicking toward the gate as if she'd been expecting this exact moment.
"That must be Albert," she said, voice steady but low.
"Uncle Albert?" I straightened, suddenly a bit more alert. I hadn't seen him in years, not since I was a kid. The man had always made me uneasy, like he was too calm in a world full of chaos—like he saw everything even without his eyes.
Mom nodded and moved toward the door. "I called him earlier. He's… good at cleaning things up."
Her tone didn't need elaboration. I knew what she meant. Still, I wasn't ready for what waited behind the door.
<-Lira>
The moment I opened the door, the familiar scent of burnt cinnamon and aged parchment hit me like a whisper from the past. There he was—Albert, wrapped in that same oversized black coat he insisted on wearing regardless of the season, scarf looped twice around his neck. His pale, blind eyes stared straight through me, unfocused but somehow… knowing.
"Lira," he greeted warmly, stepping in with the confidence of someone who didn't need sight to navigate the world. "It's been too long. And Kael—my, my, you've grown. Still have your father's eyes."
I caught the flicker of uncertainty in Kael's expression. He rose from his chair slowly, offering a small nod. "Good to see you again, Uncle Albert."
Albert chuckled. "You don't sound too sure about that."
He always had a way of making people feel seen, even without actual sight.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a worn satchel, handing it to me. It was warm. "Brought you some fruit," he said with a grin. "Not the dried rubbish they hand out at ration posts. Real stuff. From the coast."
I arched a brow. "How in the world did you—?"
"Don't ask questions you don't want complicated answers to," he replied with a wink.
Typical Albert.
He walked into the sitting room, touching nothing, guided by memory or something stranger. He removed his gloves and placed them neatly on the table before relaxing into the chair like he owned it.
"Now," he said, folding his fingers together, "let's talk about this mess you've got yourself into."
<-Kael >
I sat frozen while Mom filled him in—everything from the masked attackers to the corpses now resting in our root cellar. Her voice didn't tremble. She spoke of killing them like she was listing ingredients for a stew.
I watched Albert carefully. He didn't flinch. He didn't gasp. He just nodded slowly, letting it all settle like dust on a shelf.
"Three of them, huh?" he finally said. "That's not a warning. That's an elimination attempt."
I shifted uncomfortably. "Do you… know who sent them?"
Albert tilted his head, as if listening to something I couldn't hear. "Not yet. But I have some guesses. Nothing worth saying out loud—yet."
He reached into his side bag and pulled out something odd—a small, palm-sized talisman with intricate etchings carved into it. Just touching it seemed to make the air hum.
"What's that?" I asked, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
"Teleportation talisman," he said proudly, holding it up. "Modified from imperial designs, but mine works on… precise targets."
I winced.
Albert stood and walked toward the basement door. I followed, hesitant, but curious. Down the stairs, the air was colder. The faint metallic scent of blood still lingered beneath the frost.
The bodies—three frozen corpses—lay covered in sheets of magical ice. Albert placed the talisman gently on the center body. His fingers danced through the air, whispering runes with every movement.
The glyphs glowed. I felt a soft pulse against my chest, like the Arcana Core was reacting to the spell.
Then he snapped his fingers.
In the blink of an eye, they vanished. Not even a scorch mark left behind.
I gawked. "That was insane."
Albert grinned. "Simple transference. The Empire uses it to move gold and secrets. I use it to clean up after fools."
He launched into a rant about arcane harmonics and destabilized leyline pockets, his words melting together like soup I couldn't stomach. My head spun by the second sentence. I looked to Mom for help.
She rubbed her temple and finally said, "Albert."
He stopped mid-word. "Right. Rambling again." He waved a hand dismissively. "Long story short: No more bodies. You're welcome."
---
<-Lira >
Albert's talent never failed to unsettle me. He made things disappear without ever seeming to understand the weight of what he erased. But that was his way. He'd been blind far longer than we'd known him—blind to eyes, maybe, but not to danger.
He stretched his arms, standing from the chair. "So. When's Alfred coming back?"
"Two or three months," Kael answered before I could.
Albert nodded. "Good. Tell him I'll drop in when he's back. I owe him a bottle of that ember-wine from Sellen's Reach."
He reached for his gloves and paused at the door, his expression softening for just a moment. "Be careful, Lira. They found you once. They'll try again."
I didn't need the reminder. I nodded grimly. "I know."
Kael watched him go with a mixture of awe and confusion. The door closed behind Albert, and silence wrapped itself around the room like a second skin.
<-Kael >
Mom turned the lock and let out a breath she'd been holding.
I stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do next. The silence felt heavier than before. Like something unfinished still hung in the air.
"That man's terrifying," I muttered.
Mom shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That's just Albert."
We stepped back inside, and I made a beeline for the kitchen. My stomach growled loud enough to echo, reminding me I hadn't finished eating earlier. I pulled out the leftovers and sat at the table, poking absently at the food. My mind felt like it had run a marathon.
Everything had changed in just a few days.
And deep down, I knew it was only the beginning.
The house was quiet by the time I finished eating. The air was cool and still, but the inside of my head buzzed with questions and tangled thoughts. I pushed my plate away and stared at the flickering shadows on the wall.
I couldn't keep it in anymore.
"Mom…" I turned in my seat. "Please, teach me more about Deviants."
The words spilled out fast, laced with urgency I hadn't planned to show. She turned to face me, her eyes searching mine. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze before she sighed—a soft, tired sound that felt like part relief, part resignation.
"I was going to teach you anyway," she said gently, and just like that, the tension in my chest loosened.
We moved into the sitting room, the soft crackle of the fire casting warm light on the worn furniture. It wasn't much, but it felt like home. I sat down, and she followed, taking the seat across from me. For a few moments, we just sat there in silence, the fire's glow dancing between us.
Then she began.
"Acarna energy," she said, her voice steady, "is part of everything. It's in the air, the earth, every living thing. It's connected to our souls—it's what gives life."
I leaned in, trying to take it all in. I'd always thought of Acarna as some kind of magical fuel used by the strong. I never imagined it was something so… essential.
"Everyone has it," she continued, "but only a rare few can harness it. Those are the ones we call Deviants."
I nodded slowly, my mind racing to catch up. The way she spoke—like Acarna wasn't just power, but life itself—was starting to shift something in me.
"It's not just about energy," she added. "It's the force that binds everything together. You can't see it until someone manipulates it. The more someone can draw from it, the more they can shape the world around them."
"So…" I hesitated, "we can use it however we want?"
"In a way," she said, a small smile forming. "There are two main ways to use Acarna. The first is practical—infusing it into objects, powering machines, weapons, even lighting. That's the Empire's favorite. But the second… that's what makes Deviants dangerous. That's where we manipulate the world itself. Elements. Fire. Water. Lightning. Wind. Earth. The raw forces of nature become extensions of us."
My heart sped up. I'd felt that kind of power before—when the Arcana Core entered me. It was wild and terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
"But some Deviants," Mom said, her voice quieting, "are born… different. They can do more than bend elements. Some can heal with a touch. Others can twist time, space… even gravity. The most powerful ones—"
"Like Generals?" I cut in.
She nodded solemnly. "The rarest are like myths. Their abilities defy nature entirely. No element. No limits. Just… pure manipulation."
I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. The thought that I might be one of those was unsettling. The energy inside me didn't feel like fire or wind or anything normal. It felt… alien. Heavy. Like it was waiting to wake up again.
She must've seen it on my face.
"But before any of that," she said, her tone shifting back to the practical, "there's something more important. Acarna strengthens the body first. That's why you felt so different when it awakened in you. Why you moved faster, heard more, reacted before you could think. It boosts everything—sight, strength, speed, even awareness."
I nodded. I remembered that moment vividly. When Lyra had pressed the cube to my chest, when everything inside me had lit up like fire. After that, the world felt different—clearer, sharper, louder.
"But there's a catch," Mom added. "Acarna is dangerous if you can't control it. The energy inside you—it's not just any Acarna. It's the Arcana Core, something ancient and far more powerful than your body was ready for."
I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
"So I need to suppress it?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "It's not a toy, Kael. It's not something you just use. If you don't learn to contain it, it'll burn you from the inside out."
I bit the inside of my cheek, frustration rising in my chest. "But what about training? Combat? I want to fight. I want to use the elements. I want to do something with it."
Her expression softened, but her eyes didn't waver. "You're not ready. You can't mold water or throw fire until you learn not to drown in your own power. Right now, that energy is a flood. You need to build a dam first."
I exhaled sharply, rubbing my face. It wasn't the answer I wanted, but part of me knew it was the only one that made sense.
"So how do I do that?" I asked, quieter this time. "How do I suppress something that doesn't want to be suppressed? It's always there, just… humming."
"You learn," she said gently. "And you fail. And you learn again. The Core isn't part of your natural Acarna flow—it's why it feels foreign. But it can become part of you. You just need time."
Time. Patience. Words that felt like chains when all I wanted was to move forward.
She reached across the small table, her hand resting on my shoulder. "You're not alone in this. I'll help you. But you need to trust the process—and trust yourself."
I looked into her eyes. "I do. I just… I want to protect you. Protect myself."
Her smile deepened, touched with something almost proud. "You will."
We sat in silence for a while after that. The fire crackled softly, and for a moment, I felt something close to peace. But in the back of my mind, that energy still stirred—alive, restless, waiting.
Eventually, Mom stood and stretched. "It's late. Get some sleep. We'll begin your training in the morning."
I nodded, too tired to argue.
---