Ju Min knew he couldn't keep hiding forever.
The city didn't feel like it used to. The rooftops, once his shelter, now felt like cold stone underfoot. The alleys whispered danger. And the silence in the streets wasn't peace—it was warning.
He moved fast, not because he had a plan, but because slowing down meant getting caught. His hood was pulled low. His breath steady. His eyes scanning. Every sound made his muscles tighten, every movement in his peripheral made him ready to cast.
He wasn't trying to be a hero.
He just didn't want to die.
A small pack hung from his shoulder, weighed down with what little he owned—a few scrolls, a bottle of Maerun's bitter healing brew, some dried roots he couldn't name, and the crystal. That crystal never left him. It throbbed sometimes, a soft glow like a heartbeat, like it remembered something ancient. Something he didn't yet understand.
It was still early. The sun was barely up. Mist clung to the cobbled streets, swirling around his feet like ghosts. Somewhere far off, a bell chimed.
And then he heard it.
A voice—not loud, but sharp and clear.
"Lee Ju Min."
He froze.
His hand slipped to the crystal.
A man stepped from the shadows of a narrow alley. Except, Ju Min knew right away, this wasn't just a man.
He had no mask, but his face didn't feel real. His eyes were too dark. His smile too wide. His body too still.
"I saw what you did," the not-man said. "That spark you threw. Pretty, but sloppy."
Ju Min said nothing.
The crystal in his grip warmed.
"You think that little light makes you strong?" the thing asked, stepping closer. "You don't know what strength is."
Ju Min raised his hand.
Magic spun through his fingers like threads of fire. He launched it fast—a force blast that cracked the air.
The not-man vanished
Then pain.
Burning, deep pain in his shoulder. Ju Min cried out, dropped to his knees, blood soaking through his shirt.
The not-man reappeared, stepping out from the wall like mist.
"You're not fast enough," he said calmly. "And you're not ready."
Ju Min gritted his teeth, raised his hand again, and fired another shot. This one hit.
The figure crashed into a wall, hard. Stone cracked. Dust rained down.
Ju Min stumbled forward, bleeding, breathing through clenched teeth.
But the figure stood again.
Not unharmed—but not finished.
"You're learning," it said, voice no longer amused. "But it won't save you."
The air changed. The shadows shifted. Ju Min felt a pressure close in, like the whole city had eyes.
And then, from nowhere, he heard Maerun's voice in his head.
"Run."
"I'm not running."
"You're bleeding. You'll die here."
Ju Min glanced around—no sign of help. The alley felt like a trap tightening.
"I can't leave."
"You'll be no use dead."
Then the figure vanished again.
That was enough.
Ju Min turned and ran.
He barely made it back to the shrine. Every step hurt. His vision blurred. He crashed through the gate, fell at the entrance, and blacked out.
He woke to the sound of boiling water.
The scent of crushed herbs and smoke filled his nose. He blinked against the light filtering through the shrine windows.
Maerun sat near the fire, stirring a pot.
"You're lucky I was still watching," Maerun said, not looking at him.
Ju Min groaned and tried to sit up.
"You fought a voidling," Maerun added.
"A what?"
Maerun turned. "Not a person. Not really. They're made from the scraps the High Sorcerer couldn't use. Tools. Spies. Killers. You're a problem, Ju Min. That spark inside you? It's loud. It calls things."
Ju Min stared at the ceiling.
He felt like he'd barely survived a storm.
Maerun handed him a cup. "Drink this."
"It smells like feet."
"It'll stop the infection."
He drank it, nearly gagged, and lay back down.
Days passed.
His strength came back slowly. The wound in his shoulder closed up with help from Maerun's magic and those awful teas. Ju Min started walking again. Then sparring. His movements were stiffer now, but cleaner. Sharper.
He kept thinking about that voidling. About how close he'd come to dying.
And he kept dreaming of fire.
On the fourth day, the sky turned orange.
He stood outside the shrine and watched smoke rise from the north quarter.
Maerun joined him, arms folded.
"They're burning another district," he said quietly.
"Why?"
"They're looking for someone else."
"Another mage?"
"A child."
Ju Min turned sharply. "A spark?"
Maerun nodded. "They say it's a girl. Small. Wild power. She burned a battalion last week. Rumor was she escaped."
Ju Min's fists clenched.
"They'll kill her," he said.
"Or worse," Maerun replied.
Ju Min looked at him. "We're going."
Maerun didn't move. Didn't argue.
That night, they left the shrine.
The journey through the city's underbelly took hours. They crept through tunnels lined with old bones and rusted weapons. Fires burned above them. Screams echoed through cracks in the stone.
Ju Min followed the thread again—that strange pull in his chest. The same sense he'd had when he first met Maerun. The crystal pulsed with warmth.
She was close.
They surfaced near a collapsed temple. The streets were empty. Burned. Soldiers were gone, but they'd left bodies behind.
Ju Min felt sick.
But the pull grew stronger.
He followed it to a stairwell hidden beneath rubble.
And found her.
She was maybe ten. Her clothes were scorched. Her hair wild. Her eyes full of fear.
When she saw him, her whole body lit up. Energy crackled through the air.
"Don't!" Ju Min shouted.
Too late.
The blast hit him square in the chest. Threw him against the wall.
He coughed. Sat up.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he said, raising his hands.
She didn't believe him.
She readied another blast.
He dropped his shield. Let her hit him again.
This time, it didn't knock him down.
"I used to be like you," he said. "Lost. Angry. Scared."
She hesitated.
Maerun appeared behind her, silent as smoke.
She turned, panicked—but didn't attack.
That was enough.
They brought her back to the shrine.
Her name was Sun.
She didn't speak for a full day.
Ju Min gave her food. Sat with her. Told her stories. She just listened.
By the third day, she started copying his spells.
By the fifth, she cast one of her own.
She was raw. Powerful. Her energy surged without control. Maerun watched her closely.
"She's different," he said. "Not just a spark. Something else. She's not hiding it—she is it."
Ju Min didn't care.
"She deserves a chance."
Maerun didn't disagree.
The Iron Circle wasn't quiet for long.
Their patrols grew more violent. People vanished overnight. Entire streets emptied. Banners were raised over burned homes.
Ju Min watched the city he once knew turn into a battlefield.
And something inside him changed.
He stopped waiting.
He started preparing.
And as Sun practiced beside him, light pouring from her hands like a living flame, he realized this wasn't just survival anymore.
This was the start of something bigger.