Deep within the towering stone walls of Aegis Sect, the flicker of torchlight danced against the ornate chambers of Elder Varek. The elder sat reclined, eyes narrowed, sipping a pale tea with steady hands that masked the anticipation burning in his chest.
A knock.
Three short taps.
The door creaked open, revealing two figures cloaked in grey. Their robes bore faint stains—evidence hastily cleaned but still visible to a practiced eye.
"It's done," the taller of the two whispered, bowing low. "The boy is no more. We left him in the Whispering Pines. His bones won't be found unless someone has reason to look."
Elder Varek smiled thinly. "And you're sure he was dead?"
The shorter assassin hesitated. "He... should be. We broke his spine and crushed his ribs. Even if he clings to life, he won't live long in that state."
Varek's fingers drummed the armrest. "Good. This world doesn't need unstable variables—especially ones that might threaten the natural order."
He reached into a drawer and retrieved two small jade tokens. Tossing them forward, he said, "As promised. Your contributions will not be forgotten."
The assassins bowed again, greed flashing in their eyes. "Thank you, Elder."
As they disappeared into the shadows, Varek's expression turned cold. "Fire affinity or not, you were never meant to rise."
—
Far from Aegis Sect, in the heart of Whispering Pines, the forest had begun to change.
Though days passed, the animals kept their distance from a particular clearing. Not due to the scent of blood—though that lingered—but because of something else. Something unnatural.
Jin's body, once broken and still, now lay bathed in darkness and light. The orb within him pulsed gently, knitting sinew, fusing shattered bones. It worked not with speed, but purpose.
Weeks became months.
Frost turned to dew, then to blossoms, then to heat.
The orb did not speak. It did not think as mortals do. But it understood survival. It burrowed deeper into Jin's core, anchoring itself where his essence flowed weakest. And from that point, it fed.
Not on his life.
But on his potential.
As seasons passed, the forest grew dense around him, vines curling protectively around his resting place. The orb's presence extended just far enough to repel predators, to bend nature away from its host.
Time flowed, and years were lost.
—
Two years later.
A summer wind whispered through the forest.
Leaves danced lazily under the midmorning sun. The clearing was now an overgrown cocoon of moss and thorns, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the woodland.
And at the center of it, beneath the vines and silence...
A breath.
Shallow. Subtle. But real.
Then another.
Jin's fingers twitched. His chest rose, slightly more than before. The orb pulsed once—deep within—and a current of energy traveled through his veins.
His eyes shot open.
They were no longer the same dull brown they once were. Hints of black swirled within his irises, like shadows trapped behind glass.
He gasped, his body stiffening as pain shot through his nerves. His skin was pale, and though his muscles were weak, there was something new inside him—something alive.
He blinked, vision blurry and confused.
"Where... am I...?"
But no voice answered.
He lay still, confusion giving way to fragmented memory—burning pain, betrayal, the ambush… Elder Varek.
And then—darkness.
Yet here he was, still breathing.
Somehow.