Chapter 2: Chapter 2: A Spark Behind The Flames
The warmth of a morning sun filtered through the wooden slats of the small training yard, casting long shadows over the ground. Young Rian Ashford stood in the center, sweat dripping down his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had been at it for hours, but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he pushed himself, his Essentium remained the same—unimpressive, fleeting, and frustrating.
"Focus, Rian," his instructor, Master Olric, said in a calm but firm tone. The old man stood at the edge of the yard, arms crossed, his eyes narrowed as he watched Rian struggle. "Your power is only as strong as your will. If you can't control it, no one will."
Rian closed his eyes, trying to center himself, his hands trembling as he reached deep within, into the core of his being, where his Essentia stirred. He felt the familiar flicker—the brief surge of energy, like a match being lit and then snuffed out. He concentrated, trying to hold onto it, to make it last, but as always, it slipped through his fingers.
He flickered across the yard, a blink of movement, appearing on the other side in an instant—but the effort left him winded, his legs wobbling under the strain. That was the problem with the Flicker: it wasn't meant for endurance. It was short, sharp, and unreliable when drawn out.
"Again," Olric commanded, his voice devoid of sympathy.
Rian grit his teeth and obeyed, pushing his body to its limit, trying to make the Flicker last longer, to prove that he wasn't just the weakest link in his generation of Essentia users.
But every attempt left him feeling hollow.
Rian had been born into a family of Essentia adepts, each of whom carried powers far more impressive than his own. His older brother, Dorian, had inherited the Crimson Blaze, a rare fire-based Essentium that could incinerate anything in its path. His father wielded the Stonebreaker, capable of reshaping the earth itself with a single touch. His mother wielded the Plasmacharge, capable of controlling electricity and shape them to the users will. Even his younger sister, Mira, though still just a child, showed early signs of possessing the Silverstream, a water-based Essentium with vast potential. His younger brother, Jace, had inherited the Aegisguard, a powerful Essentium that can manipulate barriers with free will. His other younger sister, Nessa, she was only 10 but she showed early and powerful signs of possessing the Thornweave, an Essentium which can control multiple powerful vines which she can control at will and if she needed it, she can heal the person attached to the vines to a certain extent.
Then there was Rian, the middle child, the one who was neither gifted nor entirely powerless. At first, his family had been hopeful. His parents had believed that the Flicker was just the beginning, that it would grow into something more—something grander. But as the years passed, and Rian's power remained limited to brief flashes of movement, it became clear that he would never live up to their expectations.
His mother, ever the optimist, had tried to console him. "Essentia is about balance, Rian," she had told him once, stroking his hair as he sat dejectedly on the steps of their home. "It's not always about the strongest flame or the hardest stone. Sometimes, the smallest spark can light the way in the darkest moments."
But Rian had seen the looks his father gave him—the quiet disappointment, the barely concealed frustration. In a family of powerful Essentia users, being average was tantamount to being invisible.
Years passed, and Rian had trained tirelessly, determined to find some way to make his Flicker more than just a fleeting escape tool. He studied the great Essentium masters, read every scroll and tome on Essentia theory, and sparred with others who had more powerful Essentia than him. But no matter how much effort he put in, his power remained the same—useful for dodging, for quick movements, but never for anything lasting.
He had watched others rise, their Essentia growing stronger with each passing year, while his stayed painfully stagnant.
His brother, Dorian, had become a war hero, his Crimson Blaze feared on every battlefield. Mira, still young, had already started formal training at the prestigious Aurora Academy, where only the most promising Essentia users were admitted. And Rian? He became a soldier—nothing more, nothing less. He was decent enough with a blade, and his Flicker helped him survive on the battlefield, but he was never the star, never the one others looked to for leadership or inspiration.
He had once asked his father, in a rare moment of vulnerability, "Do you think I'll ever be more than this?"
His father had hesitated, his stern face softening just for a moment before replying, "Not everyone is destined for greatness, Rian. Sometimes, being reliable is enough."
It wasn't the answer he had hoped for. But it was the one he had learned to live with.
Now, as Rian sat in the makeshift camp outside the walls of Lighthold, the memories of his training and his family weighed heavily on him. He watched the flames of the campfire dance, their light flickering in the night—a reflection of his own power. Unsteady. Ephemeral.
He wasn't the strongest, and he never would be. But he wasn't the weakest either. Over the years, he had come to terms with his place in the world, carving out a role for himself as someone who could survive—someone who could adapt. The Flicker may not have been flashy, but it had kept him alive in situations where stronger powers had failed.
He glanced at Kiel, who was sitting across from him, gnawing on a piece of dried meat. The large man had always teased Rian about his "blink-and-you-miss-it" power, but never with malice. If anything, Kiel had grown to appreciate Rian's unpredictability in battle.
"You did good today, you know," Kiel said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was gruff, but there was warmth in it.
Rian shrugged, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "Good enough to not get killed, I guess."
Kiel chuckled, tossing the meat aside and leaning back on his arms. "Hey, sometimes that's all it takes. You're quick. You get in and out before anyone knows what hit 'em. That's something not a lot of us can do."
Rian didn't respond right away, his thoughts drifting to the fight earlier that day. Zephyr, the Dark Conductor, had almost killed him with a single strike. His Flicker had saved him—barely—but it wasn't enough. Not for someone like Zephyr.
And yet, Rian couldn't shake the memory of the crack in Zephyr's staff. He had landed a blow—small, almost insignificant—but it had been something. Perhaps his Flicker wasn't about raw power or overwhelming strength. Maybe it was about moments. The right moment, in the right place, at the right time.
"You ever think we're just… passing through?" Rian asked, his voice quieter now.
Kiel raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, people like Zephyr, like Braxis, like Lyria—they're all… something, right? Forces of nature. We're just people who get caught up in their wake."
Kiel was silent for a moment, then he shook his head. "Nah. We're all part of the same storm. Some just make more noise than others."
Rian mulled over Kiel's words as he stared at the fire. Maybe Kiel was right. Maybe it wasn't about being the strongest or the most powerful. Maybe it was about finding your place in the storm.
He wasn't destined for greatness, not like his family. But he had found something else. He had learned to survive, to adapt, and to seize the moments that others overlooked. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone