The hidden base wasn't what Kael expected. It wasn't cold or broken—it was alive.
Tunnels carved into mountain rock stretched like veins, lit by soft lanterns powered by sigil energy. Crates of salvaged tech lined the halls. And people... so many people. Not just runaways. Survivors. Fighters. Families.
Yuna walked beside him, quiet, her usual fire dampened by curiosity. Her eyes scanned the walls, flicking between symbols and whispered stories. She wasn't used to being around others, especially not like this.
Caziel led them deeper into the underground, the tunnel narrowing as they went. His pace was steady, confident. Soon, they arrived at a large training chamber.
It was wide, reinforced, with glowing stones embedded in the floor that pulsed gently when stepped on. At its center, the sigil pattern of the Eclipse was etched into the ground, half glowing with light, half shadow.
Kael's eyes lingered on the pattern, a mixture of awe and unease settling in his chest.
"Kael," Caziel said, watching the boy's arm, "you awakened something unique—a Glow Sigil, but unstable... like it's waiting to evolve."
Kael swallowed hard. "Is that… bad?"
"Not bad. Dangerous. Which means you need control."
Caziel turned to Yuna. "And you, Yuna… you've been wasting your flame. Raw power, but no direction."
Yuna rolled her eyes but didn't argue. It was the truth, and she knew it.
So began their training.
Over the next few days, Kael and Yuna pushed themselves further than ever before.
Kael trained his telekinesis, using it to control not just large objects but delicate ones. Pulling sigil fragments into exact orbits. Suspending raindrops midair. Disarming traps without touching them. Each success filled him with a sense of control, though the effort drained him just as quickly.
His time manipulation was harder. He started to "skip" moments—stepping out of sync with time to dodge hits or save Yuna from surprise attacks. It was exhausting, but each time he used it, his mind felt more aligned with the power.
But his greatest weapon? Healing. In mock battles, he let himself take hits, learning how fast he could recover. Pain became familiar, but also manageable. With every injury, he felt his strength grow.
Yuna, meanwhile, learned to split and redirect her flames, turning her Burn Sigil into something sharper. Under Caziel's guidance, she stopped blasting recklessly and started aiming with deadly precision, even shaping her fire into brief weapons.
And Caziel? He trained with them personally. He didn't go easy. Every sparring match felt like survival. He attacked without warning, teaching them to react, not predict.
During one session, Kael pushed himself too far. He tried to slow time and deflect a heavy blow at once—and blacked out.
When he woke, Caziel didn't scold him.
"You're holding back," the older warrior said. "There's more in you than just light."
Kael didn't respond.
He could feel it—a darker part of him, the side that resonated with the sword he hadn't touched since the forest. It was waiting.
That night, as Kael sat on the edge of a rocky balcony overlooking the mountain pass, Yuna joined him.
"The stars above feel... closer here," she said quietly. She didn't say much, but she didn't need to.
For the first time, Kael didn't feel like he was running. Instead, he was preparing.