Location: Avalon - The Sanctum of Sparks
The transport glider descended into Avalon beneath a blanket of clouds that still grumbled with the remnants of New York's storm. Lucian, Yena, and Isaiah stepped off onto a platform of shimmering crystal, where the air buzzed faintly with the scent of ozone.
Isaiah paused at the edge.
His jaw dropped.
"Is this… Atlantis or something?"
Lucian smirked. "Close. This is Avalon."
Isaiah slowly turned in place, drinking in the impossible city of light—floating towers, hovering glyphs, arcane bridges with no supports. Everything shimmered like a dream. But what struck him more than anything was the feeling—the air hummed, like it recognized him.
Yena tapped her communicator. "We've brought the stormblood in. No signs of pursuit. Prep the Chamber of Sparks."
Lucian gave Isaiah a sidelong glance. "Let's see what you're made of."
---
Within the Chamber
The Sanctum of Sparks was a dome of raw crystal, crackling with static arcs that slithered across its walls like living serpents. Glyphs etched into the floor pulsed with golden light. Isaiah stepped into the center and instantly winced.
"It's… loud."
"It's not sound," Lucian said. "It's memory. The shard within you is resonating with the chamber."
The thunderboy clutched his head as images surged through his mind. Fleeting but vivid:
—A sky fortress breaking apart in flames.
—Himself leading a host of winged soldiers, lightning cracking from his fingertips.
—A duel. A betrayal. A woman screaming his name as he fell from the sky…
He dropped to one knee. "Too much…!"
Lucian knelt beside him. "Focus. The Ring of Memory can anchor you, but only if you want to see."
Isaiah looked up, trembling. "I—I don't want to be that guy. I was just trying to make it through high school!"
Lucian's voice softened. "You were chosen long before you were born. That anger inside you? The power? It's not a curse. It's your key."
Isaiah's eyes flickered. "And if I lose control?"
Lucian stood. "Then I'll be there to stop you."
---
First Trial
The walls of the chamber shifted, transforming into a flat battlefield of stone and storm clouds. Simulated combat glyphs flared to life.
Yena entered from the side, dual blades drawn.
Isaiah groaned. "You're not seriously going to make me fight the lady with laser swords, are you?"
Yena's lips curved. "You'll learn faster with bruises."
Lucian raised a hand. "Begin."
Yena moved first—fast, almost invisible.
Isaiah panicked and threw his hands up.
A blast of lightning surged out of his palms, uncontrolled but devastating.
Yena barely dodged it, landing with a graceful roll. "Good. Now again."
They clashed repeatedly. Yena teaching through pain and precision, Isaiah resisting with raw instinct. Each blow he absorbed made him faster, sharper.
He didn't know how, but the lightning obeyed.
---
The Locked Past
After the trial, Isaiah sat alone in a meditation alcove, his shirt scorched, his palms blistered.
Lucian approached, carrying two bottles of glowing liquid.
"Drink this. It'll help."
Isaiah took one, wincing as it burned down his throat but left a cooling energy in its wake.
"Tell me the truth," he said quietly. "What if I don't want to become who I was?"
Lucian met his gaze. "Then we'll find a new path. But if you ignore your past, it'll still find you. And the enemy will use it."
Isaiah looked away. "The girl… the one I saw screaming my name. She mattered. I don't know who she is, but… I felt like I failed her."
Lucian hesitated. "You're not the only one with ghosts."
Then he turned, and for the first time, Isaiah saw the weight Lucian carried in his posture, in his silence.
"They'll keep coming," Lucian said. "The wraiths, the corrupted. Now that you've awakened, the Cinder King will want your shard."
Isaiah's voice hardened. "Then let him come."
---
Meanwhile – Siberian Ice Fields
A war bunker lay buried beneath ten meters of ice.
Inside, old machinery rumbled to life.
A girl named Vera sat cross-legged in front of a sealed sarcophagus, her skin covered in ice-crystal tattoos.
She whispered something in a forgotten tongue.
The sarcophagus glowed—and opened.
A figure stirred inside. Male. Pale. Eyes glowing blue with frost.
The Coldborn had awakened.
---
Nightfall in Avalon
Later that evening, Lucian stood alone in the Hall of Echoes, watching projections of distant Mythborne pulses light up a global map. The shard count was rising—six known. Possibly more.
Yena entered quietly.
"He's resting," she said. "I think he's scared."
Lucian didn't look away. "Good. Courage without fear is just arrogance."
A new pulse flickered on the map. Bright. Deep. Ancient.
Lucian narrowed his eyes.
> "Egypt."
Yena stepped closer. "Another shard?"
"No." Lucian frowned. "Something older."
The map zoomed in.
A ruined temple… and a name scrawled in hieroglyphs now glowing with power.
Anubis.