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Adam studied the bird perched in its cage. Overnight, it had transformed. Its size had increased noticeably, feathers sleek and vibrant. Most striking were the vivid streaks – like captured lightning bolts – tracing paths from its wingtips down its back to its tail feathers. Even its beak now gleamed with a sharp, metallic silver.
A sense of cautious wonder filled him. He went to the kitchen, filled a small bowl with seeds, and placed it just outside the open cage door. The bird cocked its head, intelligent eyes fixed on Adam, then hopped cautiously onto the rim of the cage and down to the bowl, pecking at the seeds.
Tentatively, Adam reached out a hand, aiming to gently stroke the creature's head. Before his fingers could make contact, the bird darted forward with surprising speed, its silver beak pecking sharply at his index finger. A bead of blood welled up, and instinctively, the bird flicked its tongue, tasting it.
A jolt surged through Adam – not pain, but pure, raw energy. It felt like a circuit closing. Suddenly, he could *feel* the bird's presence, a distinct, vibrant awareness humming at the edge of his own consciousness. A connection snapped into place, profound and undeniable.
Startled, Adam snatched his hand back, wrapping the small wound with a strip of cloth. He took a deep breath, the new bond thrumming within him. This time, when he slowly extended his hand again, the bird remained still, watching him. Gently, Adam's fingertips brushed the feathers atop its head. A wave of warmth and fierce loyalty flowed through the connection, strengthening the bond forged by blood.
As he petted the bird, his mind drifted, pulled back not to the Crimson Dragon's vast memories, but to a specific, painful shard of Zion's past...
*He was twelve again, Zion, small and thin in a stark white lab coat that hung loosely on his frame. He stood alone at a cluttered workstation within the sterile Academy laboratory, meticulously measuring a viscous brown chemical into a beaker, his brow furrowed in concentration as he noted the results. The air hummed with the quiet focus of other students absorbed in their own experiments.*
*Suddenly, a jarring shoulder knocked into him from behind. The beaker jolted, sloshing precious liquid over the rim, ruining his measurement. Zion whirled around, frustration boiling up. Three older boys stood there, smirking. In the center was Marcus, thick-necked and perpetually cruel, flanked by his usual sycophants.*
*"Watch it, orphan," Marcus sneered, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Wouldn't want you to waste the Academy's resources. Oh wait, it's not like your parents are paying for it, are they?"*
*The familiar taunt, the casual cruelty about his parents' abandonment, struck Zion like a physical blow. He saw red. All reason fled. With a choked cry of pure rage, he lunged, swinging a fist wildly at Marcus's smug face.*
*Marcus caught the punch effortlessly, his grip like iron. Zion's bravado vanished instantly, replaced by cold dread. Pain exploded in his side as one of Marcus's cronies drove a fist into his ribs. The air whooshed from his lungs, and he doubled over, tasting blood. Through watering eyes, he saw Marcus draw back his leg for a brutal kick aimed at his unprotected ribs. Zion squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the impact.*
*It never came.*
*He heard a startled grunt from Marcus. Opening his eyes, Zion saw a familiar figure standing beside him. **Silas**, taller and broader than Marcus even then, had intercepted the kick, catching Marcus's ankle in one strong hand, holding it immobile mid-air.*
***"Silas!"** Zion gasped, relief washing over him like cool water.*
***Silas** didn't look at Zion, his gaze locked on Marcus, who was struggling futilely. "I don't make a habit of watching my friends get jumped," **Silas** stated, his voice calm but carrying an edge of steel. Then, with deliberate force, he twisted Marcus's ankle just enough to make the bully yelp in genuine pain. **Silas** released him, and Marcus crashed to the floor, clutching his leg, face contorted.*
***Silas** finally turned, offering Zion a hand up. He ruffled Zion's hair roughly, a rare, fierce grin on his face. "You were brave, standing up to them. Guess it fired me up too. See you later, Zion." With that, **Silas** walked off, leaving Marcus's friends to hastily drag their whimpering leader away.*
A sharp, insistent chirping shattered the memory. Adam blinked, the sterile lab dissolving back into the familiar surroundings of his room. Storm, perched on the edge of the now-empty seed bowl, was chirping loudly, its lightning-streaked feathers fluffed up, its presence in his mind radiating a mix of curiosity and impatience.
"Alright, alright," Adam murmured, the echo of **Silas's** loyalty warming him despite the memory's sting. "Time for some air."
Storm hopped onto his shoulder as Adam opened the door and stepped outside. Morning sunlight washed over the yard. He saw his father, **Cassian**, near the large paddock, tending to their family's prized riding dalfin. The powerful, horse-like beast, its muscles rippling beneath a sleek coat, nudged **Cassian** affectionately as he offered it a bucket of grain.
**Cassian** turned at Adam's approach, his eyes immediately drawn to the transformed bird perched confidently on his son's shoulder. A slow, proud smile spread across his face.
"Well now," **Cassian** chuckled, wiping his hands on his trousers. "Congratulations on the new familiar bond. Didn't think you'd earn its trust quite this fast." His gaze sharpened as he took in Storm's altered appearance – the increased size, the unmistakable lightning streaks, the silver beak. "And... it evolved? Already? To Tier-C, by the look of it. How did that happen?" His voice held genuine astonishment.
Adam shrugged, still processing the events himself. "Honestly, Father, I'm not entirely sure. It happened after... well, after it tasted my blood. There was this surge..." He trailed off, the sensation difficult to articulate.
**Cassian** studied both his son and the bird, his expression thoughtful. "A blood bond accelerating evolution... rare, but not unheard of with particularly compatible creatures. Have you named it?"
Adam rubbed his chin before looking at the bird. "Storm. How about I call you Storm?"
The bird seemed to consider it. Then, with a powerful beat of its wings, it launched from Adam's shoulder, soaring high above the paddock. It hung suspended for a moment, then folded its wings and plummeted earthward. As it dove, it became enveloped in a crackling sheath of pure lightning. It struck the ground with a sharp *crack* and a small puff of dirt, leaving a scorched divot before effortlessly taking flight again and landing gracefully back on Adam's shoulder. Adam chuckled, rubbing its head. "Storm it is."
**Cassian** watched the display, his astonishment deepening. "Remarkable. Truly." He then noticed Adam flexing his hand, the one Storm had pecked. "Something else?"
Adam hesitated, then held out his palm. He focused, drawing on the familiar feeling of channeling mana. A small, vibrant flame sprang to life in his cupped hand. Then, almost immediately, the flame shifted, its color deepening from orange-red to a brilliant, intense cobalt blue. It pulsed gently, radiating a noticeably fiercer heat.
**Cassian**'s eyes widened. He stepped closer, examining the blue flame with keen interest. "Blue... already? Adam, the blue flame isn't just hotter. It signifies a high degree of mana infusion and control. Mastering it usually takes practitioners years of dedicated training." He looked from the flame to his son's face, seeing not arrogance, but a flicker of the same surprise Cassian felt. "This... this accelerated growth, both with Storm and your mana... it's extraordinary."
Adam let the blue flame wink out, a thoughtful frown on his face. "It felt... instinctive. But I don't fully understand *how* I did it, or how to control it precisely."
**Cassian** placed a reassuring hand on Adam's shoulder. "Instinct is a powerful foundation, son. But true mastery comes from understanding the *why* and the *how*. Come." He gestured towards a clear, shaded patch of ground near the paddock fence. "Leave Storm to watch. Let's focus on the fundamentals."
Adam nodded, sending a gentle mental nudge to Storm. The bird chirped and fluttered up to perch on the paddock fence, observing them with keen eyes. Adam sat cross-legged facing his father.
**Cassian** settled opposite him, his demeanor shifting to that of a patient instructor. "Fire is elemental, primal. Popular because its principles are universal. But its simplicity is deceptive." He held up his own hand, palm up. A small, controlled red flame appeared. "The core is the same: draw mana to your palm." He demonstrated, a visible shimmer of energy flowing down his arm and coalescing in his palm before igniting into the flame. "Then, *will* it to ignite. Feel the potential energy of the mana converting into heat and light."
Adam closed his eyes, mimicking the process. He felt the flow of mana, like a warm current down his arm, pooling in his hand. He focused on ignition. A red flame bloomed, steadier than before.
"Good," **Cassian** murmured. "Now, *feel* the flame. Not just its heat, but the mana sustaining it. Sense its structure, its rhythm. It's not just energy; it's an extension of your will shaped by mana."
Adam concentrated, trying to perceive the flame beyond its light and warmth. He sensed the thrumming energy within it, the constant flow of mana feeding it.
"Now," **Cassian** continued, his own flame pulsing gently, "try to *increase* the mana flow. Not drastically. Think of it like breathing more life into the flame. Steadily."
Adam focused, willing more mana to channel into the flame. The red intensified, growing slightly larger and brighter
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