The journey back to Xyrathis was quick, the city's towering spires and glowing blue lights coming into view as Tavrik descended from the thick cloud cover.
He landed in the royal courtyard without a sound. The palace was silent, as always, the grand marble pillars casting long shadows in the fading light. He walked with purpose, his boots echoing softly on the smooth stone floor. He passed through the corridors, his mind focused on what he had to report to his father.
The doors to the royal chamber opened with a heavy creak. Inside, the room was dimly lit by candles that flickered in the still air. The king, Tavrik's father, sat on a large throne at the far end of the room, his face a mask of calm. His sharp eyes regarded Tavrik as he approached.
"You've returned," the king said, his voice low, as if it had not changed in centuries. "What have you learned?"
Tavrik stood before him, the weight of his father's gaze heavy upon him. He had been trained for this moment his entire life, to deliver information with clarity and precision. But something inside him—something new—made him hesitate.
"The boy," Tavrik began, his voice steady. "He is powerful. Stronger than I expected. His abilities are unstable, but they are dangerous. He's been hiding them for years, but I believe the force within him is growing."
The king's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't interrupt. Tavrik continued, "He's not entirely aware of his heritage, but I believe he will be soon. He's already a target. I saw the potential for a larger conflict—one that could tip the balance in our favor."
The king nodded slowly. "And what do you intend to do about it?"
Tavrik paused. He had expected this question, but answering it felt more complicated than he had anticipated. "I will continue to observe him, learn what he knows, and perhaps... bring him in. He will be a useful ally—or a powerful enemy."
The king's eyes narrowed, assessing Tavrik's words. "You've seen what happens when power is uncontrolled. You saw the destruction in the forest. If we are to bring him in, you must be careful, Tavrik. He cannot be allowed to become a threat. He must be... neutralized if necessary."
Tavrik bowed his head. "I understand."
The king's voice softened slightly, but the coldness didn't leave his tone. "Good. Keep me informed. We cannot afford mistakes."
Tavrik nodded again, feeling the weight of the task ahead. He turned to leave, but paused at the door. His father's voice stopped him before he could step outside.
"Be cautious," the king warned. "He may be more connected to this world than you realize."
Tavrik didn't answer. He simply turned and left the chamber, the door closing softly behind him.
Thomas was cleaning the sitting room, his movements slow and robotic, as he tried to focus on the mundane task in front of him. It had been another long day with no one at home. His adoptive parents were out running errands, and the house felt empty, save for him and the dog. The old dog, a golden retriever that had been with the family for years, was lying on the rug by the fireplace, his tail wagging lazily as he watched Thomas move about the room.
The air felt thick, as if something was hanging just out of reach—like the quiet before a storm. Thomas could feel it, that familiar unease building inside him again. The energy, the power, the force he couldn't quite control—always lurking just beneath the surface.
He had been trying so hard to keep it together, to suppress the waves of energy that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. Each day was a battle, and he couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't even explain it to himself. His own powers terrified him. They felt like they were slowly consuming him, making him something—someone—he didn't recognize.
Suddenly, a loud screeching sound broke through the stillness. Tires skidding on the pavement outside, an almost deafening noise that scraped against his ears like a knife. The pressure inside him intensified. His breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists.
"No, not again," Thomas muttered to himself, trying to control the surge of energy that was building inside him.
He could feel it—his body reacting involuntarily. The muscles in his arms and chest tightened. The power in his veins surged, wild and untamed, pushing against the walls he had tried to build. The walls that always seemed to crumble the moment he got too close.
The dog, sensing Thomas's distress, slowly got up from his spot on the rug. It padded toward him, tail between its legs, eyes wide and cautious, as if sensing the turmoil inside Thomas.
"Stay back," Thomas whispered urgently, his voice trembling as the power inside him continued to grow.
But the dog didn't retreat. Instead, it moved closer, its ears perked. As Thomas looked down at it, something inside him snapped. A flash of white-hot anger surged through him. He tried to breathe, tried to calm himself, but the pressure in his chest was too much to bear. He could feel the burst of power rising up, uncontrolled.
And then it happened.
An explosive shockwave of energy erupted from him, crashing through the room. A loud crack filled the air as the coffee table by the fireplace was blasted across the room, the furniture flying like it weighed nothing. Thomas stumbled back, eyes wide, his chest heaving with panic.
The dog yelped in fear, caught in the blast.
"NO!" Thomas screamed, his voice breaking as he reached out instinctively. Another wave of power, fueled by his panic, shot out from him, faster than he could stop it. This time, it struck the dog directly, knocking it back violently into the wall.
Time seemed to stretch. The dog struggled to its feet, its body twitching as if it didn't understand what had just happened. Its breath was ragged, the fur along its body scorched, its eyes glazed with confusion and pain. Thomas's heart raced in his chest as he ran to the dog, but he felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot. He couldn't move.
"No, no, no..." he whispered, the words feeling hollow, like he was pleading with the world to make this nightmare stop.
The dog's breathing became erratic, and Thomas's hands trembled. He reached down to try and help, but the damage had already been done. The power was too much, too uncontrollable. He felt like a monster—a monster who couldn't stop the destruction he was causing.
The dog's legs gave out beneath it, and it collapsed.
"Please... please, don't," Thomas begged, falling to his knees beside the dog. He pressed his hands to the dog's fur, trying to comfort it, but his body was still humming with energy, his heart pounding in his chest.
The dog's breathing slowed, its tail barely twitching. Thomas's vision swirled as he watched the light leave the animal's eyes. The dog died in his hands.
And just like that, Thomas realized something. He had just killed a life. A life that he could never bring back.
His breaths became shallow, his hands still resting on the dog's body. His body was shaking, but it wasn't from the power anymore. It was from guilt. From the cold realization that he was exactly what he feared he was becoming—a monster.
A low sob escaped him, his chest tight with the weight of what had just happened. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. He wanted to punch something, to somehow undo the damage he had done. But nothing would change it. The dog was gone, and it was his fault.
The door creaked open, and Thomas looked up quickly, his heart pounding even harder in his chest.
His adoptive mother stepped inside, grocery bags in her hands. She froze in the doorway, her eyes going wide as she took in the scene in front of her.
The room was in disarray—the furniture overturned, broken glass scattered on the floor, and the dog lying motionless in Thomas's arms. The smell of burnt fur and destruction lingered in the air.
"Thomas!" she screamed, her voice filled with shock and fear. She dropped the bags, the groceries spilling across the floor as she ran toward him. "What happened? What have you done?!"
Thomas didn't answer. He couldn't. His mind was too clouded with shame, regret, and a sense of complete helplessness.
His mother stopped just short of him, staring at the dog, then at Thomas. "Why is the dog not— is it dead, Thomas?!"
He couldn't say anything.
His mother's eyes were wide with disbelief, her breathing shallow as she backed away from him, shaking her head. "No. This isn't... This isn't real."
Without another word, she turned and ran out of the house, screaming for help. Thomas didn't chase her. He didn't have the strength. He couldn't even move as he sat there, still cradling the dog's lifeless body in his arms.
For the first time, Thomas knew he was truly alone. There was no escaping what he had done, no way to take back the destruction. His powers were not just a danger to himself—they were a danger to everything and everyone around him...