A week later, the summons came.
The overseer's voice cut through the low hum of the mining caverns."All new spirits are to report to the Manifestation Grounds at dawn. The first examination begins."
Kaelen looked up from the molten wall he'd been carving, his eyes reflecting the ember light. Around him, the others froze. Some whispered prayers; others went silent, their translucent faces flickering faintly like half-burned candles.
The Test of Flesh wasn't something most survived.
It was the sect's way of deciding who would remain as tools and who might someday climb higher — into servitude, or rarely, into apprenticeship.
Kaelen wiped the glowing dust from his palms. "Dawn, then," he murmured under his breath.
The serpent coiled quietly inside him, sensing his unease.
When the next day arrived, the mountain stirred long before light touched its peaks.Smoke rolled through the lower halls as hundreds of lesser spirits gathered in the square. The air shimmered with heat — the kind that crawled beneath the skin and stayed there.
Kaelen blended in among them, head bowed, the illusion of flesh anchored firmly in place. He could feel the press of energy all around — the nervous thrum of those beside him, the slow heartbeat of magma far below, the faint pulse of runes in the walls.
Every inch of this place was alive. Controlled. Watching.
At the far end of the square stood a raised platform of black stone, etched with a spiraling formation circle that pulsed like a living thing. Above it floated three elders in crimson robes, their forms wreathed in mist.
One of them — tall, lean, and silver-haired — raised a hand. His voice rolled through the cavern like thunder.
"Children of flame," he began, "today you will prove your worth before the Sect of Devouring Embers. You will manifest the forms your souls remember — the flesh you are owed, or the beasts you deserve."
A ripple passed through the crowd.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed slightly. Manifest the flesh your soul remembers?
Did that mean… he could reshape his form based on memory alone? The thought stirred something deep in him — a spark of possibility.
The elder continued, "Those who fail to form stable vessels will return to the fires as nourishment. Those who succeed may earn the right to live as servants — or, if fortune favors, as disciples of the lower halls."
His tone made it clear which outcome was expected.
One by one, the spirits were called forward.A mark appeared in the air above each as their names were read — and with a flick of the elder's sleeve, the formation below ignited. Flames burst upward, wrapping the chosen in a cocoon of red light.
Some emerged trembling, their bodies pale but human. Others shrieked as their forms twisted into monstrous shapes — incomplete shells that dissolved into ash moments later.
The smell of burnt essence filled the air.
Kaelen watched silently, studying the process. Each successful manifestation drew energy from the formation's core — not from within. That meant the ritual served as an external catalyst, forcing the spirit's essence to stabilize.
He could feel the serpent shifting restlessly beneath his skin.
Not yet, he thought. Watch. Learn first.
The overseer barked the next name."Kaelen."
Dozens of eyes turned toward him — curious, pitiful, some already dismissive. He stepped forward, his bare feet brushing across the glowing sigils of the circle.
The air around him grew heavy, pressing inward.
"Spirit-grade three," one elder murmured to another. "Barely stable. It will crumble within moments."
Kaelen knelt as instructed. The formation flared — red lines pulsing beneath his palms. Heat surged through his body, scorching the edges of his consciousness. For a moment, he felt the serpent recoil in pain, scales flaring silver against the dark.
The ritual wanted to define him — to pin his essence into something it understood.
But Kaelen's soul was no longer human.
He exhaled slowly, sinking into the memory of who he once was — the rhythm of his old heartbeat, the weight of fingers, the texture of breath. The serpent stirred again, and he felt its hunger wrap around the memory like a shroud.
The flames twisted, confused.
Around him, murmurs rose. The usual transformation — that clear blaze of red — had turned gray, then silver, then almost black. It flickered and hissed, as if refusing to decide what it wanted to be.
"What is this?" one elder snapped. "His essence is unstable—"
The silver-haired elder raised a hand. "Wait."
The air trembled.
Kaelen's body began to form — but faintly, as though made of smoke and ember. The outlines were human, but fragile. His skin shimmered translucent, and beneath it, faint serpentine veins of ash-colored light coiled and faded.
It was neither spirit nor man.
The onlookers laughed softly."Failed manifestation.""Barely holding together.""He'll be gone by nightfall."
Kaelen's hands tightened against the ground, but he kept his head low. The humiliation washed over him, but he didn't resist it. He needed them to see weakness. The less they noticed, the safer his secret would remain.
The serpent hissed faintly in his chest — not in anger, but in patience.
The silver-haired elder watched him for a long moment. Then he spoke, voice calm."Barely coherent, but… stable. Unusual. Assign him to the Outer Work Division once more. Observe his progression. If he lasts a month, bring him to me."
The others frowned but didn't argue.
The formation dimmed. The energy withdrew, leaving Kaelen kneeling on the scorched stone. The air smelled faintly of iron and smoke.
He rose quietly, ignoring the whispers as he walked back to the crowd. His body still flickered, the illusion of flesh flickering in and out like a fading ember.
But beneath the surface, deep inside the hollow where his soul should have been, something had begun to stir.
A single scale — smooth, silver, and sharp — glimmered faintly in the dark of his inner world.
The serpent had begun to molt.
That night, while the other spirits slept, Kaelen sat alone in his cavern cell. The air was heavy with heat, but he felt none of it. His hand rested over his chest, tracing the faint heartbeat that wasn't entirely his.
The serpent whispered again — a low, deliberate hiss that carried meaning beyond words.
He didn't understand all of it, but he caught fragments.Strength requires patience. Flesh requires hunger.
He smiled faintly. "Then we'll feed it, won't we?"
From the distance came the faint hum of magma veins — the mountain's pulse. Beyond that, the murmured chants of overseers, the crack of whips, the quiet cries of spirits fading into ash.
A world built on fire and control.
Kaelen closed his eyes. "Then let's learn how to burn without turning to ash."
The serpent coiled once, as if in agreement.
And deep within his soul, the silver scale cracked — revealing beneath it a flicker of blue flame.