Four cycles had passed since the day Kaelen agreed to Galandor's dangerous training. Four long and grueling cycles in the desolate village, marking time with a steadiness that contrasted sharply with the turbulence of Kaelen's mind. Each time the crimson sky appeared has brought a new attempt to control the dissonance that lurked within him, and each time the night came has left him feeling frustrated, defeated, and on the edge of exhaustion.
Kaelen stood once again in the clearing, his body drenched in sweat and his breathing ragged. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, black flames were flickering weakly around them.
'Come on...!'
