The "Marble" in my chest was not a tool; it was a leak in a dam.

  Most of the time, I could keep it plugged with a focused, internal silence. But as the sun beat down on the clearing behind our home, I was learning that my mind was a much larger engine than my small, fragile frame could handle.

  Kael stood a few paces away, his arms crossed over his leather chest-piece. "Focus. Don't just pull the rope. Command your muscles. Efficiency is the difference between a worker and a warrior."

  I was tasked with hauling a heavy stone sled—a basic exercise in endurance. But the biological reality of my form was a wall I couldn't climb. My lungs burned, and my heart rate climbed into a frantic, uneven rhythm that defied my attempts to stay calm.

  The Marble stirred. It didn't wait for a command. It reacted to the "disturbance" of my exhaustion, sensing my weakness as a threat.

  "I... I can't," I whispered. My grip on the hemp rope faltered.

  The moment my concentration snapped, the darkness flooded out. It was a subconscious reflex, a cornered animal lashing out at the world. The air around the sled suddenly felt like it was being sucked into a vacuum, a high-pitched whine ringing in my ears.

  The stone sled didn't just stop. It imploded.

  The pressure was so sudden and violent that the solid rock cracked with the sound of a thunderbolt, caving in on itself until it was nothing but a pile of jagged gravel and dust. I was thrown backward, my vision swimming with black spots as the energy drained from my limbs. The grass around my feet withered in a perfect circle, the life literally crushed out of the blades by a weight that had no physical form.

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  "Satan!" Kael’s voice was a sharp bark of alarm.

  He didn't run to me immediately. He stood at the edge of that withered circle, his eyes darting from the pulverized stone to my shivering hands. I saw it then—the raw dread of a soldier who had seen many things, but nothing that defied the laws of nature quite like this.

  "I didn't... mean to," I managed to say. My head felt like it was being split open by an axe. This lack of control was a flaw in the vessel that I couldn't yet fix.

  Joran appeared from the shadow of the house, pushing past Kael without a second thought.

  "He's exhausted, Father! Look at him!" Joran ignored the dust and the dead grass, stepping directly into the "Cold Zone" to scoop me up.

  Being held by Joran was like being touched by a hearth fire. His simple, protective love acted as a stabilizer for my fractured mind. The Marble in my chest stopped its violent spinning and settled back into a heavy, cold stone.

  "He's still so small," Joran said, his voice cracking as he glared at Kael. "Whatever followed him out of that Red Valley... it's too much for him. We can't push him like this. If he breaks, we lose him."

  Kael sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders, replaced by a deep, weary sadness. He didn't see a monster; he saw a broken survivor. "I'm not trying to break him, Joran. I'm trying to see if he can carry the weight before it carries him."

  I leaned my head against Joran’s shoulder, watching the dust of the shattered stone settle. I realized then that I was a flawed vessel. I had the mind of a master, but I was trapped in the meat and bone of a child.

  Until this body grew, the darkness was not my weapon. It was a storm, and I was just the center of it.