They had shackled him, blindfolded him, and bound his ankles together before dragging him through the labyrinthine halls of the facility. Nathan wasn't sure whether the sharp turns were real or just a tactic to disorient him, but the rough hands on his shoulders guided him with an unyielding force. Every jolt, every pull, reminded him of his captors' grip—ironclad, unyielding, designed to drain him of whatever remaining hope he held.
When the blindfold was ripped away, Nathan found himself in a cell even more suffocating than the last. This one was colder, the walls thickly reinforced, with a faint hum of something technological—a dull, vibrating pulse that seemed to claw at his senses. As he adjusted to the dim lighting, he realized what it was.
"Containment dampeners," he muttered, his voice bouncing off the metallic walls. He'd read about them before—devices specifically designed to suppress the powers of Blessed individuals. The cell was nothing short of a fortress.
The steel door clanked shut behind him, and he was alone. Or so he thought.
A slow clap echoed from beyond the reinforced glass that lined one wall of his cell. Kael's face appeared on the other side, his smirk visible even through the tinted glass, like a phantom lurking in the dark.
"Welcome to your new home, Nathan," Kael's voice crackled through the intercom. "I had this space prepared especially for you."
Nathan forced himself to remain silent, refusing to give Kael the satisfaction of any response.
Kael chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "Oh, don't go quiet on me now. I was hoping for a little spirit. That spark of defiance you're so fond of."
"Must be disappointing, then," Nathan muttered, his voice dry, yet his fingers twitched with suppressed anger.
"Disappointing?" Kael repeated, with exaggerated surprise. "Hardly. I find it... amusing, actually. Watching you struggle with that little flame, thinking it will somehow help you. That maybe it'll save you." He paused, savoring his words. "But here, Nathan, you're under my watch. Your 'progress'—if we can call it that—has made you a person of... interest. So I've made sure that every inch of this place has been fortified. I'm giving you my undivided attention."
Nathan clenched his jaw, glaring at the man with a restrained fury.
Kael leaned forward, his eyes glinting with something dark and cold. "Do you know what happens to hope in here? It crumbles. Like embers in the wind."
Nathan refused to let the taunt settle, keeping his gaze leveled and his expression steady. Let him gloat, he thought, let him believe he's broken me.
But in truth, the isolation was already setting in. Every flicker of heat he could muster in the previous cell felt stifled here, smothered by the relentless hum of the dampeners. Even the faint warmth in his chest seemed diminished, weaker than it had been in days.
Hours passed—though without a clock, it felt like an eternity. Occasionally, Kael would stroll by, pausing only to sneer or make a passing comment. Each visit was a reminder of the control Kael held, his presence looming like a shadow cast by an ever-present flame.
On one of these visits, Kael halted just beyond the glass, studying Nathan with a cold, appraising look. "You really thought you could hide your little tricks from me, didn't you?" He shook his head, chuckling softly. "I've seen hundreds of Blessed before you try the same thing. You all think you're clever, special. But you're not."
Nathan's fists clenched involuntarily. Not special? The words stung, but he swallowed the anger, letting it smolder inside.
"Every single one of them," Kael continued, his voice like ice, "broken in time. And so will you."
As the sound of Kael's boots faded down the corridor, Nathan allowed himself a breath, letting the anger dissipate, making room for something sharper. If I can't train here the same way... then I'll have to adapt.
His hand brushed against his chest, where he felt the tiniest hint of warmth, a flicker that had somehow persisted despite the containment. Even here, deep within this steel prison, he still felt the smallest ember alive within him.
"Embers gather strength in darkness," he remembered, the System's message replaying in his mind.
Days drifted by, each one a monotonous cycle of silence broken only by Kael's sporadic taunts. Yet with each visit, Nathan found himself growing more resilient, his will hardening like tempered steel.
He trained in secret once more, but with an even greater level of caution. The fire was no longer a shield to be shown, but a quiet defiance that pulsed faintly within him. He summoned it in brief intervals, letting the warmth expand and contract, flexing his control with subtlety. It wasn't much—just a small, quiet practice in the shadows—but it was enough to remind him he wasn't entirely helpless.
And then, after what felt like a week, the System responded, its prompt more direct than before:
"Survival demands resilience."
The words echoed through him like a heartbeat, a reminder that even under Kael's watchful eye, his fire hadn't died.
Survive. Endure. Each word was an anchor.
On one particularly quiet night, Nathan managed to sustain his Heat Shield for a full ten seconds. He could feel its faint warmth, a weak glow wrapping around his skin, offering a fragile defense. It wasn't much, but it was progress. And progress was hope.
As he let the shield fade, his eyes drifted to the door, where a figure stood, watching him intently. His heart raced as he realized Kael was on the other side, arms folded, his eyes sharp with suspicion.
"What are you doing, Nathan?" Kael's voice was laced with danger, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized him.
Nathan forced himself to keep calm. "Just... breathing," he replied, feigning innocence, though his heart pounded in his chest.
Kael's lips twisted into a smirk. "Breathing, huh? You must think I'm stupid." He leaned closer, his gaze penetrating. "But keep playing your little games. Let's see how long you last."
Nathan held his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.
Finally, Kael turned, but before he left, he threw a last, parting shot over his shoulder. "You may think you're getting stronger, Nathan, but remember—strength is meaningless here. All that awaits you is failure."
But even as Kael's words echoed in the cold, empty cell, Nathan felt the fire simmering within, stronger than before. He let Kael leave, let him believe his taunts were working. Yet in the quiet, he repeated the System's words to himself:
Survival demands resilience.
It was enough.
And as Nathan lay back, a faint, grim smile crossed his face.