---
Three days passed.
Calem stood at the edge of the ancient path that wound up the hills behind the village. Before him rose the distant silhouette of the Verdant Spire, its peak wreathed in swirling mists that shimmered faintly with hues unseen in the earthly spectrum—indigo veined with silver, emerald tinged with violet, and threads of crimson dancing like whispers in moonlight.
He carried a satchel of dried roots and water. Anla had made him a small charm of warding—twine wound around a raven's feather.
"You'll need luck," she'd said quietly. "The Spire doesn't like liars."
Lira had only told him this:
"Walk without fear. The Spire sees what you hide."
Now, alone on the broken path, Calem began his ascent.
---
The journey took two full days. The path narrowed as he climbed, forcing him through cracks in rock where ancient glyphs had been chiseled deep into stone. Some still glowed faintly, the words of long-dead magi echoing from their marks.
He couldn't read them—not yet—but he felt them.
And when night fell on the second day, the Spire revealed itself fully.
---
It was not a tower in the traditional sense, nor a structure built by human hands. The Verdant Spire was a natural colossus—a monolithic stone rising from the heart of a crater. Trees and flowers bloomed on its surface as if the mountain itself were alive, pulsing with breath. Runes carved by time spiraled its body like veins. Wind circled the summit with a song too perfect to be random.
A single staircase wound along its surface. No rails. No support. Just steps worn smooth by centuries of pilgrimages.
Calem placed one foot on the first stair.
Nothing happened.
He exhaled. Then climbed.
---
As he reached the hundredth step, the world shifted.
His foot touched the next stone, and the sky vanished.
In its place—silence.
Then, sound. Voices. Familiar.
He blinked—and found himself no longer on the staircase.
He was in a hospital room.
White walls. Blinking monitors. The sound of soft weeping.
His own voice said: "Is she gone?"
A nurse nodded.
On the bed lay his wife.
Pale. Still. Her hand curled around an invisible warmth.
Then the vision shifted.
Another room. His daughter. She was older here—twelve, maybe thirteen. Crying silently in her sleep.
A photograph in her hands. Him. Gone.
Alone.
---
"I left them," Calem whispered. "I didn't mean to."
"You did," came a voice—not his, but from all around. "And now you seek return?"
"Yes!"
"Even if it means destroying the laws of this world?"
"Yes."
The vision shattered.
He stood again on the steps.
A burning brand appeared in the sky—glowing with three intersecting glyphs: Truth, Resolve, and Sacrifice.
The Spire accepted him.
---
When he reached the summit, a basin waited.
Within it swirled liquid flame—neither hot nor consuming. The Essentia Font.
He dipped his hand into it.
Memories surged through him. Heat and ice. Love and despair. Thoughts from lives not his own. Screams. Whispers. Songs sung by the stars.
And then—clarity.
---
[Attainment Gained: Ember Initiate]
> Essentia Path Chosen: Will
You have faced your truth and chosen to walk with unshaken resolve.
Your soul now resonates with flame—unyielding, searching, alive.
You can now cast glyphs using conscious Essentia weaving.
You may form one personal glyph from your truth.
---
Calem collapsed beside the basin, breathing hard.
From his palm, a faint glow emerged—a glyph not drawn, but born.
Three curves bound in a spiral, radiating outward like solar flares.
His first true spell.
It had no name yet.
But he would give it one.
---
By the time he descended the Spire, three days had passed.
And when he returned to the village, Lira was waiting.
"You walked the path," she said, examining him closely. "And came back."
"I passed," Calem said. "I'm an Ember Initiate."
She didn't smile, but he saw the faint flicker of pride in her eyes.
"You're not the first outlander to arrive here," she said. "But you're the first in many decades who awakened your Attainment in one try."
"What happens now?" Calem asked.
Lira turned her eyes to the sky, where distant clouds curled into the shapes of great wings.
"Now," she said, "you begin to study. And when you're ready—you'll seek out the others like you. The ones who shouldn't be here."
Calem frowned. "Others?"
Lira met his gaze.
"The world has changed, Calem. You weren't the only one summoned. And not all of them… want to go back."
---