NOVEL NEXT Chapter 5: SPARK OF RESISTANCE
CHAPTER 5: "SPARK OF RESISTANCE"
Thrain settled onto the rugged rock, his elegant princely attire rustling softly. He lifted the hem of his pants, revealing smooth, unblemished skin where the jagged gash from his earlier fall should have been. Confusion etched his features as he probed the area, searching for any lingering pain or residue of injury. But there was none.
A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the mystical encounter with the Phoenix. For a fleeting moment, doubt crept in, questioning the reality of what he had witnessed. Yet, the lessons of his mentor, Ryker, echoed in his mind: "A closed mind is a prison, Lyon. The universe holds secrets beyond our understanding. Keep your heart and mind open, and the truth will reveal itself."
Thrain's thoughts swirled, attempting to grasp the implications of his healing and the Phoenix's ominous warning. His senses felt heightened, as if the very air around him vibrated with an otherworldly energy. He stood, his movements fluid and effortless, and gazed out at the landscape, sensing that his life was forever altered.
"Get stronger, she says," Thrain muttered, frustration lacing his words. "But how? What am I supposed to do? She drops this bombshell on me, expects me to save the world, and then vanishes without explanation?"
He paced around the rock, his voice rising in exasperation. "And who's going to believe me? 'Hey, I met a Phoenix, and she told me to save the world from a dragon.' They'll think I've lost my mind. 'From loser to crazy' that's all they'll say."
Thrain's eyes narrowed, self-doubt creeping in, but his expression soon hardened. He knew how to fight, and the Phoenix's words echoed in his mind: "You are stronger now."
The night air surrounded him, but Thrain's determination burned brighter than the darkness. "I need to find out what that means and how to harness it. And then... I'll face Xarathys."
Thrain focused intently, willing flames to erupt from his hands. He concentrated on the burning sensation within, the residual energy from the Phoenix's blue flames. But no matter how hard he tried, his palms remained empty and cold.
Thrain's fists clenched, frustration boiling over. "Nothing's changed!" he growled, punching the air in desperation. He attempted every technique he knew, drawing upon memories of sword fights and battle strategies, but flames refused to ignite at his command.
"Just like when I was small and powerless," he muttered, despair creeping in. "I tried these moves a thousand times, and nothing worked. Now I'm supposed to be stronger, and still... nothing."
Thrain's hands grasped his head, anguish written across his face. "Why did Ryker have to die?" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "He was the only one who could've guided me, helped me understand this cursed power!"
The darkness seemed to swallow his words, leaving only an oppressive silence. Thrain's eyes burned with unshed tears, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The Phoenix's words, "You are stronger now," mocked him, a cruel reminder of his inadequacy.
"It's time to return to the palace," Thrain thought, already turning to leave. But before he'd taken two steps, a viper lunged from the underbrush, its deadly fangs bared.
Thrain's reflexes proved quicker than humanly possible, honed from years of combat training. Still, the viper's strike was true, sinking its teeth deep into his leg.
In a burst of adrenaline-fueled instinct, Thrain's body reacted. Flames erupted from his palm, engulfing the viper and ending its threat. The fire spread, igniting nearby bushes, and Thrain sprang into action. With swift, precise steps, he stomped out the growing blaze, preventing a catastrophic wildfire.
As he stood panting, Thrain's gaze fell upon his injured hand. The viper's bite should have been agonizing, but instead, blue flames danced across his leg, enveloping the wound. The pain dissolved, replaced by a strange, tingling sensation.
Thrain's eyes widened in astonishment. "It seems I've found my spark," he murmured, a mix of wonder and trepidation coloring his voice. "And it comes with a few... surprises."
*****
Thrain's slumber was interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door. He rose onto his elbows, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Who could be visiting at such an early hour? The maids usually waited for him to emerge or, if summoned by his father, the guards would burst in without courtesy.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The knock came again, this time more insistent. Thrain approached the door, pulling it open to reveal his brothers, Cormac and Hitel, standing in the corridor.
Cormac and Hitel's faces twisted into snarls as they lunged forward, Cormac's fist flying toward Thrain's jaw. But Thrain was a blur of motion, dropping into a fluid crouch that made the punch whistle harmlessly overhead. From this low vantage point, he unleashed a swift, precise counterattack, landing a vicious one-two strike to each of his brothers' groins.
Cormac and Hitel crumpled, their faces contorted in pain. Thrain straightened, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Some lessons never sink in, brothers," he said, his voice low and even, with a hint of amusement. "You keep testing me, but the result's always the same."
"Mind you, speed always wins," Thrain added, his smile twisting into a triumphant grin. "No matter how much strength or endurance you boast, I'll always be the one landing the first blow."
Hitel's face reddened with rage, his eyes blazing, while Cormac's massive frame tensed, ready to unleash its fury. But Thrain's words hung in the air, an unspoken truth.
Cormac's growl was cut short by Hitel's sharp intake of breath. "Father summons you," Hitel spat, his voice laced with malice.
Thrain's expression darkened, his gaze dropping like a weight. His father's summons was never a good omen. The contempt and disdain that fueled their relationship made Thrain's stomach twist into knots. His father's hatred for him was a palpable, suffocating force.
"Then I'll attend to my executioner," Thrain muttered, his voice laced with bitter resignation, as he turned to face his inevitable fate.
"Right now," Cormac and Hitel said in unison, rising to their feet.
Thrain fell into step beside them, his stride confident, almost casual, as if his brothers were his bodyguards rather than his escorts. The guards at the throne room door bowed, swinging it open to reveal King Arin's imposing figure.
The monarch's eyes, cold and lifeless, fixed on Thrain. "Leave us," he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion.
As the courtiers and guards filed out, King Arin rose from his throne, a surprising gesture. He poured wine into three cups and handed one to Hitel, then Cormac. Thrain's heart swelled with unexpected hope as his father approached him, cup extended.
But instead of offering the cup, King Arin dashed the wine onto Thrain's head. "Did you think I was going to serve you?" he sneered. "You unwanted trash."
Thrain's face burned as Cormac and Hitel's laughter echoed through the throne room. King Arin turned his back on his son, returning to his throne with an air of disdain.
The wine dripped from Thrain's hair, a stinging reminder of his place in the kingdom. His gaze locked onto his father's back, a spark of defiance ignited within him.
King Arin's gaze lingered on Thrain's wine-soaked hair before speaking, his voice dripping with disdain. "I heard you defeated your brothers yesterday, just because... You beat them to a pulp, and from the swollen faces I can tell it's true." His eyes narrowed. "So, it's true. You've awakened."
The king's tone was laced with a mix of surprise and disgust, as if Thrain's newfound abilities were an affront to him. Cormac and Hitel's laughter died down, their faces still bearing the bruises from the previous day's confrontation.
Thrain's expression remained neutral, but his eyes flashed with a hint of defiance.
"Demonstrate it for me," King Arin commanded, his voice cold and calculating. "Repeat what you did to them."
Thrain's response was delayed, as if the words were wrestled from his very soul. His voice emerged deeper, rougher, and his breathing grew labored. A glimmer of desperation flickered in his eyes, like the verge of tears.
"No!" Thrain's refusal burst forth, laced with defiance. "We are not your puppets. I won't fight them just to impress you. I'm done trying to prove myself to you."
King Arin's face twisted into a cruel smile. "I see," he drawled, his voice dripping with malice. "Teach him his place, boys. No holds barred."
Cormac and Hitel exchanged a glance, their faces set with brutal intent. With a snarl, they lunged at Thrain, eager to unleash their pent-up rage. The air in the throne room crackled with tension, anticipating the impending clash.