Our house came into view—simple, one-story, the kind of place that didn't look like much to anyone else, but to us… it was home. Dad built it before he married Mom. Every creak in the floorboards, every uneven tile, carried memories.
As we reached the door, Mom placed a hand on my shoulder, warm and steady.
"You did well today," she said, offering a tired smile. "You're growing up too fast."
I gave her a nod, but I was distracted. The Arcana Core pulsed gently inside me, a soft buzz I could feel in my bones, like distant thunder under my skin. It was impossible to ignore now. I had questions. Too many.
"I'm going upstairs for a bit," I said as we stepped inside.
She raised an eyebrow. "Don't stay up too late. Dinner will be ready soon."
"Yeah, yeah." I barely heard myself reply as I made a beeline for my room.
---
The second the door closed behind me, I went straight for my desk, grabbing the stack of books I'd collected. I needed answers.
I flipped page after page, but something quickly stood out—nearly everything focused on Arcana Crystals. The same kind used to power lamps and coaches. They were common, and dangerous to absorb—every book said the same thing: they could burn through a body from the inside out. Some described gruesome deaths of those who tried.
But Cores? Arcana Cores were barely mentioned. A few ancient texts called them relics, or mythical constructs. One dusty passage said they were "artifacts beyond classification." Most scholars seemed to think they were just fairy tales.
I frowned and leaned back in my chair. Then what the hell is inside me?
I placed a hand over my chest. The warmth was subtle now, like embers beneath the surface. The Core wasn't just inside me anymore—it had fused with me. No burning. No pain. Just change. I was faster, stronger, more aware. My senses had sharpened, and I didn't even know the full extent of it yet.
Why me?
I didn't realize how tired I was until the words started swimming on the page. I blinked hard, rubbing my eyes. My mind wanted to keep going, but my body was giving out.
Just a few more pages…
The next thing I knew, my head was slumped against the desk, sleep dragging me under before I could resist.
<-Lira's pov>
Dinner was nearly done. I set the table for two, listening to the familiar silence of our small home. It was late, and Kael hadn't come downstairs yet. I sighed softly, drying my hands on my apron.
"Kael, dinner is ready!" I called out.
No reply.
I waited a few seconds, then headed toward the stairs. I already knew where he'd be—buried in those dusty books, chasing answers like they were life itself.
I opened his door gently. "Kael?"
There he was—slumped over his desk, face resting on an open page. I smiled without thinking. That boy. Always pushing himself beyond the edge, even when the world begged him to rest.
But then... something shifted.
The smile faded as I felt it—an energy, subtle at first, like the tremble of the ground before an earthquake. My eyes locked onto his back. A soft glow pulsed beneath his shirt, slow and rhythmic. Alive.
I took a step forward. My breath caught.
Instinct told me to turn away, but something deeper—something older—urged me on. I knelt and reached out, placing a hand against his back.
The moment I touched him, a violent pulse of energy lashed out. I staggered backward, heart racing, my hand numb.
It hadn't meant to hurt me. But it had refused me.
Raw. Wild. Untamed.
It wasn't just power—it was identity. And it didn't want to be touched.
I clutched my chest, gasping quietly. The word rose in my throat before I even thought it. A word I hadn't spoken aloud in years.
"Deviant."
I stared at him for a moment longer, frozen between awe and fear. Then I crossed the room again and reached for his blanket. If I couldn't hold him, I could at least protect him from the cold.
I draped it gently over his shoulders, brushing his hair back with shaking fingers. He didn't stir.
"You'll be all right," I whispered, unsure if I meant it for him… or for me.
I left his room quietly, closing the door behind me.
---
Downstairs, the air felt heavier. I wrapped Kael's meal and placed it aside for morning. As I turned to clean up, a sound pulled me back into the present.
Footsteps.
Soft. Measured. Wrong.
I froze.
I moved without thinking, extinguishing the torches around the house in quick succession. Shadows swallowed the room. I crept toward the window and peered into the night.
Three of them. Moving through the courtyard like wraiths—masks over their faces, blades drawn, their movements too deliberate to be common thieves.
They weren't here for food or coin.
They were here for him.
The rage in my chest spread like wildfire through my veins, but my body remained still. Calm. Controlled.
I opened the door slowly and stepped out into the courtyard. The chill night air met my skin. The moon hung overhead, casting pale light across the stones.
"There's no need to hide," I said, loud enough for them to hear. "Come out."
One by one, they stepped into the open. Black cloaks. Steel glinting. Silent as death.
I narrowed my eyes. "Who sent you?"
No reply. Just their cold, watchful stares.
"Leave now," I warned. One final mercy.
They didn't take it.
They lunged.
They never should've.
I let go.
The Acarna I kept buried deep, sealed and silent for years, surged to life. Cold air spiraled from my skin. The temperature plummeted. Frost coated the ground in an instant. My breath misted before me, calm as ever.
Then the ice came.
It burst from the ground in jagged spears. Two of them never even had the chance to scream—one was skewered clean through the skull, the other through the ribs. They collapsed without sound.
The third stumbled back, but not fast enough. Ice ripped through his legs and arms, pinning him to the stones like a moth to a board. He cried out, dropping his blade.
I walked toward him, every step echoing in the frozen silence. I knelt beside him, voice low and sharp.
"Who sent you?"
He coughed, too weak to be proud anymore.
"Speak up," I said again.
He raised his face—bruised, bloodied, twisted into a grin. A boy trying to die with defiance.
"Fuck you," he spat.
So be it.
The cold answered.
Spikes erupted again, impaling him in unison—his chest, stomach, limbs. Again and again, until nothing moved but the wind.
Then… silence.
I stood still for a moment, letting the frost settle. Letting the storm subside.
I walked back into the house, closed the door gently behind me, and exhaled. My heartbeat steadied.
I wrapped Kael's food, just like always. My hands barely trembled.
And above me, my son slept peacefully. Unaware of the death that had arrived at his doorstep.
Unaware that I had become the storm to send it back.
---