Shards of a broken seal

The warmth started in her chest, quiet at first, then spreading outward like ink blooming in water. Her pulse responded before her thoughts could. Something inside her stirred. Then it shifted.

A shimmer rose over her hands, barely brighter than breath, a whisper of flame tinted in rose and gold. It didn't burn. It hovered, translucent, wavering like a candle seen through glass.

It moved with its own rhythm, slow and deliberate, as though it had been waiting for years beneath her skin.

The energy curled around her fingers, pulsing with faint life. Not fire not even smoke, it just looked like something in between. As if the light had been pulled from a dream and wrapped itself around her bones.

She stared.

She hadn't called it.

But it came anyway.

Behind her, the grandfather took a slow step forward. His voice was low and uncertain.

"Fascinating."

The flicker curled inward, then pulsed once, almost like it was listening.

"Don't force it," he said quickly. "Stay focused."

Enor didn't answer. Her eyes stayed on the light.

The shape, the color, the movement. They were all new to her. And yet it felt familiar.

Like it had always been there, just out of reach.

Then, somewhere in the stillness, her thoughts slipped, and the nightmare from the night before came back again.

Just a quiet detail resurfacing. Cold tiles. Burned air. Static. A light too pink to be fire.

She blinked, not flinching. Just noticing.

The flame above her palm flickered.

"Focus," the grandfather said more sharply. "Keep your breath even."

She obeyed. Slow inhale. Slow release. The flicker steadied again.

Across the room, Cedrik shifted slightly. His voice was careful.

"You okay?"

Enor nodded once.

The flame swayed gently, casting soft reflections in her eyes.

The grandfather watched in silence. Something unreadable passed across his face. Not fear. Not awe. Something quieter. Wonder laced with caution.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Cedrik stepped closer, gaze fixed on the flicker above her palm.

"It's beautiful," he said softly.

Enor's eyes stayed on the light.

"Yeah," She nodded, a quiet smile touching her lips.

And for the first time since it all began, she felt like she wasn't running from her power.

She was standing still, while it reached for her.

The faint pulse of the regulator thrummed against Enor's skin, syncing with the rhythm deep inside her chest. The fragile flame had retreated, leaving a quiet warmth, but her mind stirred with uneasy thoughts.

"How... how can something so beautiful cause so much damage?" Her voice broke the silence, eyes flickering with the memory of the three girls. Lost. killed in her uncontrolled flare.

The grandfather's gaze softened, but his tone stayed steady and measured.

"Marked energy isn't just raw power, Enor. It's a living extension of your core. A bioplasmic current flowing through every fiber of your body."

He tapped a finger lightly on the console, and a diagram bloomed. A network of glowing tendrils spread from a central orb.

"This current, the coreflux1, circulates through specialized conduits we call verivessels2. These microscopic channels carry the energy, binding it to your nervous and muscular systems. That's why the marked often display enhanced strength, speed, reflexes, even accelerated cellular regeneration."

Cedrik leaned forward, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"So the energy isn't just some external flame. It's literally part of their biology?"

"Exactly," the grandfather nodded. "It's a complex bioenergetic system. But here's the catch. How this energy manifests outside the body depends on each marked's unique aetherprint1. That's a resonance pattern generated by their coreflux."

He adjusted the projection, and images flickered. Flames like liquid silk. Mists swirling with pale light. Sparks crackling like frozen lightning. Bursts resembling static storms.

"The marked aren't bound to a single form. They shape their power across a wide spectrum. Some find it easier to summon flowing plumes of heat and light, like a living aurora. Others coax volatile bursts of electrostatic discharge, or even solidify energy into tangible crystalline shapes. This control isn't automatic. It demands skill, patience, and a deep understanding of one's own core. Mastery means bending the power to your will, no matter the shape."

Enor's eyes widened.

"So it's like... This power is alive, but it's shaped by how we feel, think, and control it?"

The grandfather smiled faintly.

"Control is the key. The temperature, density, even the frequency of coreflux emissions can vary. That's why some flames burn gentle and warm, while others scorch like solar flares. The bioenergetic feedback loop between the core and the verivessels governs this balance. Too much energy without regulation, and you risk hurting yourself or others."

Cedrik glanced at Enor quietly.

"No wonder you had that accident. It's like trying to tame a storm that doesn't understand boundaries."

Enor swallowed, gaze dropping to the faint glow still lingering in her palm.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone."

The grandfather's eyes met hers, steady but kind.

"The power is not your enemy. It's your nature. Learning to channel it, shape it, is rewiring that feedback loop. It's as much mental as physical."

Enor's gaze flickered a sudden thought flashing in her mind.

"Ar would've loved to be here," she said quietly. "He's always asking questions about the marked. You'd think this would be exactly his kind of thing."

Cedrik shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes.

"Probably figured you'd fill him in later. He's just caught up."

Enor didn't answer right away. Her mind pulled back to earlier, when the four of them had been watching the broadcast. Ar had followed the discussion easily, weighing in with Cedrik and the grandfather, calm and curious as always.

But when Sylas Varin appeared, something in him changed.

She remembered the way his posture shifted. Not startled. Just sharp. His stare had gone flat. Quiet.

There'd been no doubt in her mind what she saw in his face.

Hatred.

The grandfather exchanged a look with Cedrik, then spoke in a low voice.

"Some questions run deeper than others. Sometimes it's hard to tell if someone's pulling away or trying not to get pulled in."

He turned to Enor, gaze weighty now. Thoughtful. Edged with concern.

"You and Ar are both... Curious. But in very different ways."

Then he finally addressed her more directly.

"But I need you to understand something. Cores like yours, fractured and unstable, don't typically endure."

Enor's brow furrowed.

"…What do you mean?"

"I mean I've known dozens of marked over the years. Some strong, some reckless, some careful. But those whose cores fractured this severely, none of them lived long after."

The room fell still.

"You're the only one I've seen in person survive it. Let alone reignite."

Cedrik blinked.

"…Wait, seriously?"

The grandfather nodded.

"I'm not saying it's a miracle. But it's rare enough that I can't treat it like anything less."

Enor swallowed. The fire inside her chest was quiet now, but somehow heavier.

"That's why I'm being cautious. Not to frighten you," he continued, voice gentler now, "but because I don't fully understand what's keeping your core together. That regulator helps, but it's temporary. You need to respect your limits."

She gave a quiet nod, face composed.

He crossed his arms.

"Keep the regulator on at all times unless I say otherwise. No sudden power use. No flaring. And no pushing through pain. If your core destabilizes again, it might not hold."

He gestured to the door.

"That's enough for today. You've done more than enough."

The two nodded silently. The door hissed shut behind them, sealing the lab and everything it had stirred back into silence.

They walked the hallway in step, but Enor's mind wasn't beside her body anymore. The faint pulse of the regulator was steady against her collarbone, but inside her chest, something had gone still.

The grandfather's words echoed like a fault line.

'Cores like yours don't typically endure.'

'None of them lived long after.'

Her fingers drifted absently to the device, pressing lightly as if she could somehow read her own condition through the metal.

She'd never felt wrong. Not even once.

Not before her powers came back.

Not in the in-between years.

She'd laughed. Breathed. Walked. Dreamt. Lived.

If anything, she'd felt normal.

And now, suddenly, that was the problem.

She should've been dead.

The logic of it made her stomach tighten. A slow, crawling unease rose through her chest and lodged just below her throat. A strange, unfamiliar chilling cold. 

Cedrik finally spoke. Not looking at her. Just letting the words settle into the space between them.

"It's weird, isn't it? How you can feel fine… until someone tells you you're not supposed to be."

Enor's eyes stayed ahead.

"Yeah."

A few seconds passed.

"Now everything feels off," she added, voice low. "Like I'm walking inside a countdown I didn't know had started."

Cedrik gave a dry exhale.

"Story of the marked."

Another beat of silence.

"I don't really feel broken," she said finally. "But maybe I just never knew what broken was supposed to feel like."

Cedrik didn't answer right away.

His hands slipped into his pockets. Footsteps steady beside hers.

"I think sometimes we walk around cracked open, and no one notices until something spills out."

She didn't respond, but he caught the way her shoulders shifted. Like she tucked the words away, even if they didn't sit right.

Then a sharp smell broke the rhythm. Bitter. Smoky. Too sudden to ignore.

Cedrik lifted his head slightly, nose wrinkling.

"…Is that smoke?"

They both slowed.

A faint trail of something burnt drifted from the hallway ahead. Quiet. Distant. But definitely there.

"Damn it, Ar," Cedrik muttered, already veering toward it.

"What?"

Enor stayed still for a heartbeat longer.

Then turned and followed.