The sect never slept completely.
Even after night fell, the faint hum of cultivation still pulsed through the mountains — the rhythm of hundreds of disciples training, meditating, or whispering rumors in the courtyards. By dawn, those whispers had multiplied.
Kaelen heard them before he even left his quarters.
"…they say Elder Hesh nearly sealed his cultivation.""No, no — he's being tested for demonic taint.""Then how is he still walking free?""Maybe the sect's using him for something…"
The voices carried through thin walls and open corridors. Kaelen ignored them, fastening his robe with slow, deliberate movements. The fabric smelled faintly of smoke, no matter how many times he washed it.
He could still feel the ember's faint pulse beneath his sternum — warmer now, but quieter. Watchful.
He stepped out into the morning light. Mist coiled low across the training fields, wrapping the world in silver-grey haze. The disciples gathered in pairs again for drills, their laughter carrying lightly through the fog.
He used to train among them. Now they made space.
Kaelen's footsteps echoed down the flagstone path to the East Courtyard. Elder Hesh's order was clear: monitored drills for seven days. A polite punishment that might have been mercy — or surveillance.
The courtyard was smaller, secluded. Disciples of lower rank were already there, sweating through forms under the watch of an instructor. When Kaelen entered, a few of them glanced up. Some nodded awkwardly. Others quickly looked away.
The instructor — a middle-aged cultivator named Varen — acknowledged him with a curt bow. "You'll take the far corner. Practice at your own pace."
Kaelen nodded. "Understood."
He walked to the edge of the field, away from the others. The fog was thicker there, muting sound and sight. Perfect.
He began with simple sword forms — slow, steady, unremarkable. To anyone watching, he looked obedient.Inside, though, his focus was split — part of him flowing through the rhythm of the blade, the other tracing the faint heat spreading under his ribs.
The ember stirred.
You've learned restraint.
Kaelen exhaled through his nose, keeping his swings smooth. And you've learned patience.
Patience is a tool. You wield it well.
He didn't answer aloud. Instead, he shifted stances — a small, precise movement that opened his core meridian slightly wider. Immediately, warmth flared through him. He guided it carefully, letting it flow up his arm in a thin line.
This time, he didn't fight the ember. He watched.
His perception deepened — colors sharpened, the world pulsed with quiet rhythm. He could see the threads of Qi circulating through the air, drawn unconsciously by each disciple. Faint trails of energy, shimmering like veins of light.
The ember hummed softly, approving.
They waste so much. Look how they leak their strength into the air with every breath.
Kaelen tightened his control, feeling the difference. He absorbed the faint wisps they left behind — invisible crumbs of power. It was nothing significant, barely enough to stir a leaf. But it was controlled, delicate, precise.
It belonged to him.
For the first time, he realized what the ember wanted wasn't destruction. It wanted understanding — to teach, in its own dark way.
Hours passed unnoticed. When the instructor called for a break, Kaelen didn't move. His mind was locked in the rhythm of that invisible current — inhale, redirect, compress. The air itself responded, a faint shimmer rising around him.
"Kaelen," Varen's voice broke through. "That's enough for today."
Kaelen blinked, coming back slowly. The fog had lifted. The sun was high. Sweat clung to his skin, but he felt clearer than he had in days.
"Yes, Instructor," he murmured, bowing slightly.
Varen studied him for a moment. "Elder Hesh said you were to train under supervision, not push your limits."
Kaelen met his gaze. "Sometimes limits need reminding."
The instructor frowned faintly but said nothing more.
When Kaelen returned to his quarters that afternoon, the world felt sharper — his senses heightened, his energy… different. Calmer, but deeper. He sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes half-closed, tracing the faint burn marks on his arm from the last flare.
The ember pulsed once, faint and steady.
You learn quickly.That's why they'll never keep you caged for long.
Kaelen breathed out slowly. "You sound certain."
Because I've seen cages before.
He went still. "Whose voice are you, really?"
The ember flickered. For the first time, the warmth felt almost human — like a sigh drawn from somewhere ancient.
A remnant. A lesson. A promise.Feed me understanding, and I'll feed you strength.
Kaelen's pulse quickened — not from fear, but from a quiet thrill. The ember wasn't just energy. It was alive. Intelligent. Bound, but not fully dormant.
And if it was a remnant, that meant it once belonged to someone.
He looked toward the mountains beyond his window — the same peaks where forbidden ruins and old battlefields still slept beneath the soil. Maybe the ember had come from there.
Maybe the sect's history wasn't as pure as the elders claimed.
Kaelen closed his eyes again and sank deeper into meditation. His thoughts folded around that single idea — not fear, not temptation, but curiosity.
The ember pulsed once more, faint as breath.
Curiosity, it whispered,is the first spark of power.