---
He was born in the village of Elaryn—a hidden cradle of stone and silence, carved deep into the earth beneath the western ridges. The people of Elaryn were known for their unmatched bond with the earth, moving boulders with a thought, feeling the pulse of stone under their feet like a second heartbeat. But this boy was different.
Even as a child, he didn't simply bend the earth. He listened to it.
While the other children played with stones and sand, he meditated under the weight of cliffs. He trained in secret, not just to mold rock and soil, but to understand it—the temperature shifts, the groans before tremors, the rhythm of pressure beneath his feet.
The Elders noticed.
When he turned ten, the Seer summoned him. With smoke curling from her fingertips, she marked his forehead with charcoal and whispered a prophecy only he would remember:
"You will walk the world in silence, guided by visions no other sees. When the storm wakes, so too will your path. Protect the Lightning-born, and when the time comes—ignite him."
For years, he trained. For years, he wandered.
Then, one night in the frost-bitten valley bordering the forests of the east, the ground rumbled. Lightning struck where it should not have. And he felt it. Not through rumor, or magic—but in the earth.
The one he had waited for… had awakened.
His name was Cain.
---
Cain moved swiftly through the wild, silent as the wind and sure-footed as a predator. Days passed beneath the dense forest canopy, his path guided not by roads, but instinct. Then came the faint scent of smoke, the sound of startled voices—
A scream.
He arrived just as the beast lunged.
With one smooth motion, he drew his curved obsidian blade and sliced. The creature collapsed. Mira gasped.
He stood over her, cloaked in pale blue, face partially shadowed.
"I've been looking for you," he said quietly.
---
Back inside the cave, the mood was tense.
"Who are you?" Tarn asked, spear gripped tightly.
"A traveler," the stranger replied. "I do not seek shelter—I seek him."
He looked at Asteria.
The others bristled. Mira stepped forward, arms crossed. "You expect us to just accept that?"
"I expect nothing," Cain replied. "Only to walk beside the one born beneath the fractured moon."
Tarn rolled his eyes. "Another cryptic lunatic."
Asteria remained quiet, watching him.
Valron finally spoke. "He did save Mira."
"But that doesn't mean we trust him," Mira snapped.
"I don't need your trust," Cain said. "Only your time."
---
By nightfall, arguments split the group. Tarn and Mira voted no. Valron stayed neutral.
Only Asteria spoke for him. "If he knows what I am—what's happening to me—I need to listen."
Cain stood outside the cave, gazing at the stars. When Asteria approached, he said nothing at first.
Then, "You're changing. I can help you control it."
"You sure about that?" Asteria asked.
"I've known it longer than you've been alive."
---
The next morning, Cain didn't wait for permission.
At dawn, tremors rocked the clearing.
Rocks rose from the soil, circling the cave's entrance. A ring of stone, then fire. Not enough to burn, but enough to trap.
"What the—" Tarn leapt up.
Cain waited outside the circle, hands folded.
"Train with me. Or get past me."
Asteria stepped forward. "You're insane."
"No," Cain said. "You're asleep."
The battle began.
Valron was first. A flurry of thrown stones, sharp and precise. Cain deflected them with bursts of hardened earth that pulsed like muscle.
Mira surged forward, blades of pressurized water slashing. Cain moved like a tide, bending the ground to block each strike, then countering with a quake that staggered her back.
Tarn rushed him, brute force against skill. He was fast, strong—but Cain was faster. He ducked, swept Tarn's legs, and pinned him.
"Still want me gone?" he asked calmly.
Then came Asteria.
He stepped into the circle, fire already flickering from his palms. He launched it wild, raw, unfocused. Cain weaved through it, each dodge precise.
Asteria grunted and pushed harder. Flame roared. He charged with his sword drawn, swinging violently.
Cain didn't counter. He simply stepped aside and flicked a finger.
The ground rose, catching Asteria's boot and flinging him.
But then—
Time bent.
Asteria's eyes glowed.
For a fraction of a second, he disappeared.
Then reappeared behind Cain, blade poised.
Cain smiled.
"You felt it."
Asteria panted. "What was that?"
"Lightning. The first spark."
Then the glow faded, and he collapsed.
---
Later, as wounds were tended and tempers cooled, Asteria sat by the fire, sharpening his blade. The flickering flames caught the edges of his cheekbones, casting sharp shadows across his face.
Valron approached, quiet.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all."
Valron sat down, hesitating.
"I need to tell you something."
Asteria looked up, curious. "Alright."
"It's about Mira."
That got Asteria's attention.
Valron exhaled. "I've liked her for a long time. Since before we left the village. She's smart, strong, doesn't let people push her around."
Asteria nodded slowly. "She's impressive, yeah."
"I haven't told her," Valron continued. "And I don't want to. Not yet. Maybe never. I just needed someone to know. Someone I trust."
"You have my word," Asteria said.
Unbeknownst to them, Tarn was sitting not far off, sharpening his own weapon. He'd heard everything.
He stood and stretched loudly. "You two done whispering like schoolboys?"
Valron stiffened. "You heard that?"
"Hard not to." Tarn smirked. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe. But feelings get messy on the road. Just make sure it doesn't mess up the team."
Valron nodded. "Thanks... I guess."
Tarn shrugged. "Just saying what no one else wants to."
---
Elsewhere, in Nytherion, three cloaked figures rode out beneath the banner of the royal flame. Their orders were clear: Find the Prime Candidate. Return him, or bring news of his death.
They had six days.
But farther still—across oceans, buried libraries, and crumbled sanctuaries—others stirred.
In the southern sands, monks of the Crimson Dust opened scrolls that hadn't been touched in a thousand years.
In the west, a council of shadowed figures lit the blackflame of judgment.
And in the north, a Queen whispered to her seers, "The Lightning has awakened. The Trials have begun."
Some would come to serve him.
Others, to kill him before he brings the world to ash.
And in a forgotten part of his soul, the storm rumbled once more.
---