They reached Sereth's sanctuary at dusk.
It wasn't a tower or a fortress—just a stone platform carved into the side of a mountain, overlooking a vast drop where clouds drifted like a second sky. Old wards shimmered faintly in the air, invisible unless you knew how to look.
"This is where echoes come to die," Sereth said. "Or learn silence."
Kairo stepped forward—and nearly collapsed.
The moment his foot crossed the boundary, the seal reacted violently. Pressure crushed his chest. His knees hit stone.
Sereth didn't help him up.
"Stand," she ordered.
"I—can't—" Kairo gasped.
"Then you'll die the first time the seal breaks unexpectedly," she replied flatly. "Again. Stand."
Something ugly stirred inside him.
Not anger.
Authority.
The pressure shifted—not gone, but obeying.
Kairo forced himself upright, shaking.
Sereth's eyes narrowed. "You felt that, didn't you?"
He nodded slowly. "It… listened."
She exhaled. "That's the most dangerous part."
Inside the sanctuary, the air was thin and cold. Runes lined the floor in spirals and broken circles. At the center sat a simple stone pillar—scarred, cracked, ancient.
"Sit," Sereth said.
Kairo obeyed.
"This training isn't about strength," she began. "Anyone can unleash power. Demon Kings did it constantly."
She tapped her staff against the pillar.
"This is about permission."
The words echoed wrong.
Sereth raised her hand—and slammed the staff down.
The seal shattered.
Not fully.
Just enough.
Agony tore through Kairo's body. He screamed as shadows flooded his vision, voices roaring in a language older than fear. He saw cities burning. Kneeling armies. Blood on a crown that wasn't his.
Command us.
Use us.
Become.
"Do not answer them!" Sereth shouted. "Do not command—contain!"
"I can't!" Kairo cried. "It's too much!"
Sereth stepped into the storm of shadows without hesitation.
She pressed her palm to his chest.
"Then listen to yourself," she said fiercely. "Not the power. Not Raizen. Not destiny."
The visions wavered.
Kairo gasped, clutching at a memory—small, human.
His grandfather's tea. The quiet mornings. Being overlooked. Being ordinary.
"I'm not a king," Kairo whispered.
The shadows recoiled.
The seal slammed shut.
Kairo collapsed forward, unconscious.
He woke hours later, wrapped in a blanket, throat raw, body aching like he'd been hollowed out.
Sereth sat nearby, cleaning blood from her knuckles.
"You broke three of my wards," she said. "That's impressive. And terrifying."
Kairo pushed himself up slowly. "Did I fail?"
She considered him.
"No," she said. "You survived without commanding anything."
She met his eyes.
"That's harder than ruling."
Kairo looked at his hands. They were just hands again. No flame. No shadow.
"What happens if I ever give permission?" he asked quietly.
Sereth didn't soften her answer.
"Then the world will remember why it feared Demon Kings."
Silence stretched between them.
Finally, she stood.
"Rest," she said. "Tomorrow, we begin again."
Kairo lay back, staring at the darkening sky.
The power inside him shifted—not angry.
Patient.
Waiting.
And far away, something ancient smiled.