The next night, Daren set not one candle before Kael, but three.

  They stood in a line, their flames twisting in the quiet air. Each wick flickered at its own pace—one slow and steady, one restless, one sharp and thin. Kael’s throat tightened at the sight of them. If one flame had nearly broken him the night before, what would three do?

  “You told me you wanted more,” Daren said. His voice was calm but edged with weight. “Then prove it. The eye must learn to separate, not drown.”

  Kael wiped the sweat from his palms against his trousers. His muscles still carried the ache of yesterday’s training, but he lowered himself to one knee. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and forced the glow forth. The world sharpened once again, the dull edges falling away into unbearable clarity.

  The three flames sprang alive, each one weaving in threads too fine for ordinary sight. He saw them not only as fire but as rivers of motion, every flicker broken into a hundred tiny shifts.

  At once the strain pressed in. His vision tugged left, right, and center—each flame begging to be followed, each one demanding attention. His head already throbbed, as though his skull could not hold the weight.

  Kael clenched his teeth and forced himself to slow down. One flame, then the next, then the last. He did not try to seize them all at once. Instead, he let his gaze drift, steady but controlled.

  The first flame swayed to the side. He caught it. The second bent low, curling over itself. He shifted. The third rose high, narrow and sharp. He followed.

  Back and forth, back and forth, his head pounding with each shift, but the image held.

  The seconds stretched like hours. His throat tightened. Sweat stung his eyes, yet he dared not blink too long. His arms shook though they carried no weight. Still, he did not release the glow.

  Finally, when his vision began to blur and his chest burned for relief, Kael forced himself to end it. The glow snapped back, the flames returning to normal. He blinked hard, chest heaving, vision swimming.

  Daren gave the smallest nod. “Better. Now again. And faster.”

  Time lost meaning as Kael repeated the task again and again.

  Daren changed the placement of the candles, moving them closer together until their flames almost touched, then spreading them far apart until Kael’s eyes ached from darting between them. Sometimes he had Kael stand and walk around the flames while keeping focus. Sometimes he tossed small stones across them, shadows breaking Kael’s sight, forcing him to split his attention.

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  Each trial strained him to the edge. His vision blurred, his skull pounded, his body trembled with exhaustion. Many times he collapsed to one knee, the glow snapping away.

  But each time he rose again, teeth clenched, jaw tight, sweat dripping down his face.

  The hours dragged. The glow flickered in and out. Kael’s body longed for rest, but his will pushed him on. He remembered what Daren had said the night before—that without focus, strength meant nothing. If he wanted to carry the title of Lord, if he wanted to lead others, then he could not fail here.

  By the last hour of night, Kael found a rhythm. His gaze no longer panicked between the flames. He could move from one to another with control, shifting as though guided by some silent thread. His head throbbed and his vision swam, but the control was his.

  At last Daren stepped forward and snuffed the candles one by one. The sudden dark was almost a mercy.

  “You are learning,” Daren said. “Remember this feeling. Tomorrow, you will carry it into the body.”

  Kael straightened, chest rising and falling. His entire body was sore, his eyes heavy, but his spirit burned brighter. He had learned to steady the eye when still. Now, he would learn to steady it when moving.

  ---

  Morning came harsh and cold.

  Daren woke Kael before the sun touched the ridges. The air was sharp, mist curling low to the ground. Kael’s body screamed for more rest, but Daren gave him no choice.

  “Today, we test stamina,” Daren said. His arms were crossed, his tone leaving no room for delay. “Your eye is more than focus—it is endurance. If it dies after only moments, it is useless.”

  Kael rubbed the sleep from his eyes, still sore from the night before. “What do you want me to do?” His voice came out rough, almost a growl.

  “Run,” Daren replied simply, tossing him a wooden practice blade. The handle was smooth, the blade dulled but heavy. “Run, and keep the eye alive. Do not release it until I command.”

  Kael tightened his grip on the sword. His fingers twitched nervously, but he drew in a long breath and summoned the glow. Already, the weight pressed into his mind. The world sharpened again, every detail cutting into him.

  Then Daren’s voice cut through the cold: “Go.”

  Kael broke into a run across the training ground. The frost crunched under his boots, each step loud in the silent dawn. His breath rose in white clouds that hung behind him. Every tree, every stone, every sway of shadow seemed alive in his vision, demanding his attention.

  Before he reached the far end of the ground, his head had begun to pound. The clarity felt heavier than any weight he had ever carried.

  “Faster!” Daren barked.

  Kael pushed harder. His legs screamed. His lungs burned. The eye’s glow wavered, flickering at the edges, but he clung to it like a lifeline. His vision blurred, the sharpness threatening to slip away.

  “Strike!” Daren shouted.

  A wooden staff came whirling through the air.

  Kael swung instinctively. The glow caught the line of its flight, guiding him. His blade struck true, knocking the staff aside.

  The blow staggered him, his knees almost buckling. His chest heaved, but he forced himself upright and kept moving.

  Again and again, Daren threw objects—a stone, a stick, even a dulled dagger. Each one spun toward Kael at sharp angles, each one meant to break his concentration.

  Kael struck every single one, the glow carrying him. But each strike cost him more. His breath came ragged. His arms felt heavy as iron. His skull burned as though it would split open.

  Every part of him screamed to release the glow, to let the world dull again, but Daren’s voice rang in his ears.

  “Do not let it go. Hold. Endure.”

  Kael grit his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He forced his legs to keep running. Every step was an agony. Every breath a fire. His vision split, his mind begged for release, but he did not give in.

  The training ground blurred past him in streaks of frost and stone. His chest felt like it would collapse. The glow wavered on the edge of breaking, but he dragged it back each time.

  Finally, when his body was moments from falling, Daren raised a hand. “Enough.”

  Kael dropped to the ground. His sword slipped from his hand as he gasped for air, the glow fading at last. He lay flat on his back, staring at the pale morning sky. Sweat mixed with frost on his skin, cold and hot all at once.

  Daren stood above him, arms folded, his face unreadable. “This is the weight of sight. Each day, you will hold longer. Each day, the strain will lessen. In time, your eye will not break until you choose it.”

  Kael closed his eyes. His body trembled, every muscle screaming, but his spirit burned brighter than ever. He had not mastered it yet. But he had survived it.

  And survival was the first step toward mastery.