The next morning came quietly.
Rizz stood barefoot on the wet grass of the upper terrace. The air was cool, touched by dawn, and the sky was painted in quiet grays. After awakening the Soul Seal, even mornings felt different now. The wind whispered more clearly. The silence held deeper meaning.
Safa stood behind him, cloaked in her white-silver robes, her presence calm and firm. Elena sat in silent meditation by the sacred pond nearby, and Raze watched from the outer edge, arms folded as he hovered above the stone railing.
"This lesson isn't about power," Safa said, her voice soft but steady. "It's about understanding the weight behind your elements. Light and darkness are not just forces. They are emotions—echoes of the soul."
Rizz listened quietly, his hands clenched at his sides.
"You'll begin by invoking light through memory. But not just any light. I want you to think of your purest moment of love. Of hope. Of healing. Summon it, and let your soul create the element from it."
Rizz closed his eyes.
A memory floated up. His mother's voice, whispering that she loved him a thousand times. His father's laughter as they flew across the valley. His aunt's stories beneath the stars.
Warmth built in his chest. A soft, golden aura flickered around his hands.
It was slow. Gentle. But it was light—pure and clear.
Safa nodded. "Good. Now, use it. Not to attack. But to heal."
She revealed a cut on her own palm—nothing serious, just a small wound she had made with a ritual blade.
Rizz hesitated. "I've never used it like this."
"You've never needed to," she said. "Now you do."
He reached forward, letting the golden aura stretch across her skin. The light trembled at first, unsure. Then it calmed, growing softer, warmer—until the wound closed completely.
Safa smiled. "You are learning. But light without understanding is just blindness."
Rizz looked at her, unsure what she meant.
"Now," she said, "summon your darkness."
The shift in tone made his chest tighten.
Safa's voice was low. "You must not force it. You must not fear it. You must let it in. Darkness comes from grief. From guilt. From loss."
Rizz's hands trembled.
"I don't want to feel that," he whispered.
"You must," Safa replied. "Or it will control you."
He closed his eyes again.
This time, the memory was not warm. It was the moment he collapsed in training. The look of terror on his mother's face. The scream in Safa's voice. The helplessness. The feeling that he had hurt them.
The darkness came—not cold, but sorrowful. It spilled into his hands like smoke, curling around his fingers.
He opened his eyes.
"I hate this," he muttered.
"I know," Safa said. "That's why it's dangerous."
She pointed at a shadow dummy across the field. "Direct it. Let it go."
Rizz raised his hand. The shadow shot forward, swift and focused, striking the dummy through the chest. The dummy collapsed into ash.
Elena opened her eyes in the distance, watching closely. Raze raised an eyebrow. Safa walked to Rizz and knelt.
"Both light and shadow are tied to how you feel. They'll strengthen as you grow—but they will also become heavier. If you don't learn to understand your own emotions, your magic will one day betray you."
Rizz nodded, silent.
But in his chest, the Soul Seal pulsed once more—faint, but steady. It wasn't angry. It wasn't wild.
It was listening.
And waiting.
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