The sun hung low over the Elandor skyline, its light filtering through the canopy of Ember Branch trees — strange flora native to the Solmire Dominion whose leaves glowed faintly with Essence. Kael moved beneath their soft light, the warmth brushing over his skin like breath from a sleeping giant.
He'd been assigned his first solo field mission earlier that morning — a containment sweep of a minor Essence distortion in the Greylight Glade, just west of the city. A simple assignment on paper, and yet… something about it put him on edge.
Maybe it was the way Captain Tyren had handed it over. A flicker of hesitation. A warning that hadn't made it past his lips.
"Low threat," they'd said.
Kael had learned that 'low threat' didn't always mean 'safe.'
He paused at the edge of the glade. The trees here were older, twisted by the ambient currents of raw Essence, their roots crackling faintly with residual energy. He pressed a hand to the ground, focusing. He could feel it — a distortion in the natural flow, like the pulse of a heartbeat that didn't belong.
"It's feeding on the ambient stream…"
Drawing his dagger and igniting his Essence, Kael's flame flared to life — still faint, a subtle flicker compared to veterans, but sharper than before. The days of constant drills, weight training, and Essence circulation had begun to shape his core.
He pressed forward, senses peeled open.
From the underbrush came a sharp rustle — too rhythmic for wind, too irregular for beast. He shifted his stance low, recalling one of the new forms he'd practiced the day prior. His body moved instinctively into a wide-angled guard, one foot angled to shift momentum.
It burst out.
Not a beast — but a malformed creature, born of Essence corruption. A wolf-like frame, covered in cracked stone hide, with glowing veins of unstable power running beneath. A Wretchspawn — common near unstable glades, but only if something had cracked the local Essence barrier.
It pounced.
Kael spun to the side, blade sliding upward. Sparks flew as metal kissed corrupted hide. He didn't hesitate — shifting his grip, ducking low beneath a second swipe, and slamming his palm into its exposed underside. His Essence flared out in a pulse of kinetic force.
The Wretchspawn yelped, launched backward into a tree trunk, shattering bark and splintering wood. Kael lunged — the motion smooth, precise. A downward slash cleaved into its side, and with a growl, the creature dissolved into ash, its Essence destabilized.
But the glade didn't go quiet.
He turned — three more emerged, drawn by the death of their kin.
Kael exhaled slowly. "Of course."
He tightened the wrap on his glove and stepped forward.
This time, there was no hesitation.
The fight unfolded like a dance.
The first came in wide and fast. Kael ducked, pivoting on the ball of his foot. The second lunged as he twisted, jaws wide — only to meet a forward kick enhanced by a surge of kinetic Essence. Its jaw cracked sideways with a wet pop.
The third came from behind.
Kael didn't look. He felt the rush of Essence behind him, twisted and snarling. He spun, ducking low again, sliding beneath the attack and slashing its legs. As the creature stumbled, Kael drove his dagger into its chest — Essence infused, tearing through the core.
When the dust cleared, Kael stood over the fading remains, breath controlled but heavy. He wiped the blade clean on his sleeve, then tapped the Essence stone on his belt to record the cleared threat.
This was only a 3rd Flame mission. And yet, something was wrong. There was too much distortion for it to be natural.
His eyes swept the glade. The ground was cracked — like something had punched through from below. He knelt, brushing away soil. Beneath the surface, faintly glowing crystal veins pulsed with unstable Essence.
"A fracture," he muttered. "But what caused it?"
There was no time to linger.
Kael stood, noting the coordinates, and started back toward Elandor. But the image of the broken ground and corrupted creatures lingered in his mind.
⸻
By the time he returned to Emberlight's guild hall, dusk had bled into night. The lamps around the spire's lower levels had been lit — floating Essence orbs drifting gently in lantern rings.
Captain Tyren stood waiting near the mission ledger, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "You're late."
Kael handed him the recording crystal. "Mission's complete. But something's wrong with the glade. Essence fracture, and Wretchspawn aren't supposed to gather like that."
Tyren turned the crystal over, frowning. "You're sure?"
Kael nodded. "It wasn't a natural buildup. Something forced it."
The captain stared at him for a moment, then grunted. "I'll dispatch a follow-up team. You did well." He paused. "That's a fast rank gain. You're managing your circulation more efficiently than projected."
Kael gave a tired smile. "I'm just… trying not to fall behind."
Tyren's expression didn't soften, but his voice lowered a touch. "Don't burn yourself out. Flicker Flames are fragile. Refine them too fast without control, and you'll lose what makes them stable."
"I'm not rushing," Kael said. "Just… preparing."
He turned to leave, but the captain's voice stopped him.
"Kael," Tyren said. "You mentioned a feeling. That something was wrong."
"Yeah."
"Trust that," Tyren muttered. "Even if others don't. The last time someone felt that kind of wrongness… it wasn't just Wretchspawn they found."
Kael paused.
He didn't ask what Tyren meant.
But deep down, he already knew the answer.
Somewhere in Valeria, the Varnok were stirring again.