Rising With My Mystic Power

SPARKS AT DUSK

The sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of amber and violet. The Academy’s training yard, usually a place of drills and discipline, had transformed into an arena of anticipation.

Students filled the terraces, their chatter rising like buzzing wasps as word of the duel spread.

Mordaine stood at the center of the yard, his palms damp, his breath steady but quick. Across from him, Kael Draven rolled his shoulders, sparks of electricity snapping across his arms. The faint scent of ozone already hung in the air.

What am I doing here? Mordaine thought. His heart hammered. Every part of him wanted to flee to hide in the quiet of the library, or bury himself in the ruins where the whispers couldn’t reach him. But another voice pushed forward, steady and insistent. You’re not the boy you were. You’re the Ember’s heir. Prove it.

The Master of Arms, a stern woman clad in black dueling robes, raised her staff. “By the rules of the Academy, this duel is sanctioned. Neither combatant is to strike to kill. Victory shall be declared when one can no longer fight.”

Kael grinned, his grey eyes glinting with malice.

“Don’t worry, Carrowell. I’ll make it quick.”

Mordaine didn’t answer. He was too busy steadying the Ember’s restless thrum inside his chest.

The staff came down. “Begin.”

Kael moved first.

With a crackle like tearing cloth, a bolt of lightning streaked across the yard. Mordaine barely dodged, the air singeing his sleeve. The crowd gasped, their cheers erupting at the display of power.

Kael didn’t stop. His body became a storm of motion, electricity coiling along his limbs. He lunged forward, fists glowing with deadly arcs. Mordaine raised his arm instinctively, the Ember’s heat rushing to meet the attack.

A shield of fire blazed to life before him. Kael’s strike landed with a thunderous crack, sparks flying, but Mordaine held firm.

The yard fell silent. Fire. Real, living fire, flowing from the boy who couldn’t summon a spark just weeks ago.

Mordaine’s jaw tightened. He had shown too much already.

Kael’s grin widened. “So it’s true.” He stepped back, lightning dancing eagerly along his frame. “You’ve been hiding something. Good. That’ll make this fun.”

The duel erupted.

Lightning and flame collided in a dazzling storm. Mordaine wove flames into whips, shields, and bursts, each move fueled by instinct rather than training.

Kael countered with crackling bolts and sweeping strikes, his mastery sharp and disciplined.

Sparks rained across the yard. The crowd roared.

But Mordaine could feel it the Ember wasn’t satisfied with holding back. It wanted to surge, to burn, to devour. Every time he parried Kael’s strikes, fire flared hotter than he intended. His arms ached with the strain of containing it.

A bolt grazed his shoulder, searing through fabric and skin. He staggered, biting back a cry.

“Too slow,” Kael taunted.

Anger flared. Mordaine let it fuel him. His flames surged higher, blazing gold instead of red, and for an instant the air trembled.

Gasps echoed through the yard. Some students stood, eyes wide. This wasn’t ordinary fire.

Kael’s grin faltered.

Mordaine clenched his fists, fighting to rein it in. If he lost control now, if he let the Ember swallow him, he wouldn’t just beat Kael he’d reveal everything.

His heart pounded. His power burned at the edge of his restraint.

I have to end this… fast.

The world narrowed to fire and lightning.

Kael lunged again, his fists wrapped in snarling arcs of blue-white energy. Each strike carried the crack of thunder, each miss scorching the ground. Mordaine blocked with walls of flame, the Ember thrumming inside him like a caged beast desperate for release.

“Fight me for real!” Kael shouted, his voice sharp with both anger and excitement. “Or are you afraid of what they’ll see?”

The words cut deeper than the sparks.

Mordaine ducked a lightning whip that tore a smoking trench in the dirt. He knows. He’s baiting me. If I lose control now…

The Ember surged, heat flooding his veins, his vision edged with gold. He could feel the shape of a strike forming in his mind a searing wave that would swallow Kael whole. One release, and the duel would be finished.

But so would his secret.

He grit his teeth, forcing his body to move instead of surrender. He twisted, redirecting the Ember’s fury into smaller bursts. A shield flared. A whip snapped. Just enough to keep Kael at bay.

The crowd cheered, every clash of elements drawing gasps and shouts. To them, this was a spectacle two rivals battling beneath the twilight sky. But to Mordaine, it was a knife’s edge.

Kael feinted left, then drove a crackling fist toward Mordaine’s ribs. The blow grazed him, pain exploding along his side. Mordaine stumbled, fire sputtering in his grip.

The crowd roared. “Kael! Kael! Kael!”

Kael smirked, standing tall. “You’re not ready for this, Carrowell. Whatever power you’ve stolen, it doesn’t belong to you.”

Something inside Mordaine snapped.

Flames erupted, wild and golden, swirling around him in a vortex that lit the yard like a second sun. The crowd gasped, shielding their eyes. Even Kael froze, his grin faltering as the air thickened with heat.

Mordaine’s voice trembled, low but clear. “This isn’t stolen. It’s mine.”

He thrust out his hand.

A whip of fire cracked through the air, faster than Kael could dodge. It wrapped around his arm, searing the lightning from his grasp.

With a tug, Mordaine dragged him forward, then released a controlled burst that sent Kael sprawling across the yard.

Silence.

Kael groaned, trying to rise, but the Master of Arms’ staff slammed to the ground. “Enough! The duel is decided. Mordaine Carrowell stands victorious.”

For a moment, the yard stayed still. Then whispers erupted like wildfire.

“Golden flame?”

“Since when could he do that?”

“He was powerless a month ago how—?”

Kael staggered to his feet, fury in his eyes. He met Mordaine’s gaze, lightning crackling faintly along his shoulders. “This isn’t over,” he hissed, before turning away.

Mordaine stood frozen, chest heaving, the Ember still roaring within him. He wanted to collapse, to vanish, to hide. But he held his ground under the weight of every eye.

Among the crowd, he caught a flash of movement

Lyra, standing at the edge, her expression unreadable. But in her eyes, he thought he saw it: a flicker of recognition.

The Ember quieted, as if it too had seen her.

The staff’s clang signaled the duel’s end, but the storm it unleashed was only beginning.