Kael Aerwyn was born into fire.
The Aerwyn name wasn't just respected—it was legendary. For generations, they stood as icons of flame-wielding might, crimson-robed warriors whose power shaped history. Their home, carved into volcanic cliffs and ringed with blackened stone, overlooked the restless sea like a dragon watching over its domain. Every wall bore their crest: a blazing drake with wings unfurled, daring time to erase it.
Kael carried that legacy—etched into his very skin. A dragon-shaped birthmark curled across his back, always faintly warm, like something ancient stirred beneath the surface. By five, he was conjuring sparks with ease. By ten, he was beating trained fighters twice his age. His father, Alric—the man the world called the Flame Tyrant—saw the makings of something greater.
"You'll surpass us all," Alric once told him, resting heavy hands on Kael's shoulders. "But remember—uncontrolled power is just wildfire."
Kael remembered. He just didn't listen.
At nineteen, driven by pride, hunger, and a need to be more, Kael dug into the sealed archives beneath their estate—scrolls kept hidden since the Arcana Wars. That's where he found it: Cruel Sun.
A forbidden technique said to draw down the raw fury of the sun itself. It demanded perfect control and unwavering will.
Kael thought he had both.
And when the day came, he raised his hand to the sky……and the sky burned.