Chapter 4 – Embers Beneath the Floorboards

A gust of wind rattled the old wooden beams of the White Ember Sect’s outer meditation hall.

Kael sat cross-legged on the weathered training platform, the aftershocks of his breakthrough still coursing beneath his skin like residual lightning. The sun had not yet crested the eastern peaks, and the sect grounds were veiled in twilight-blue mist. The world felt unnervingly quiet—too quiet for dawn.

Elder Yun's teachings echoed in his mind:

"The moment after a breakthrough is when you're most vulnerable—not in strength, but in soul. That is when the world stares back."

Kael opened his eyes slowly.

And it was staring.

---

From the far edges of the bamboo forest, just beyond the inner sect’s wards, a faint ripple passed through the mist. No birds stirred. No wind followed.

It lasted only a breath.

But Kael felt it.

A flicker of something… wrong.

---

⸻

Meanwhile, high within the Flameheart Pavilion, the Council of Elders convened for the first time in nearly three months.

The circular chamber pulsed faintly with spiritual arrays and formation sigils etched into the stone. A dozen seats, arranged in concentric circles, faced an inner dais where Elder Xuan, the First Flamekeeper, stood.

His crimson robe shimmered as though actual embers danced across its surface.

“Another sect boundary disruption,” Elder Xuan announced, voice steady. “Third one in five days.”

Elder Mireen, wrinkled and hunched, leaned forward. “It’s not a spirit beast. Nor a rogue cultivator. We’d have seen residue. This… this is something else.”

Elder Jinsal, the youngest among them, clicked his tongue. “Something’s watching.”

A long silence followed. The same unspoken thought passed between them all:

They felt it too.

---

⸻

Far beneath the sect, beneath the layers of sacred soil and geomantic formations, lay something buried and bound.

A forgotten room. A sealed cellar built before the sect’s founding. Even the elders didn't know it existed.

There, beneath layers of silence and dust, a mirror breathed.

Its surface rippled though untouched. Shapes crawled behind the reflection, things not born of this world. The mirror pulsed faintly with crimson sigils. A chain-shaped glyph glowed along the rim—half-lotus, half-blood flame.

And in its heart, an image formed.

A boy with violet eyes. Sitting in quiet meditation.

---

⸻

Back in the courtyard, Kael rose slowly, brushing dust from his robes. The breakthrough left a strange warmth in his core, but also an itch in the back of his mind—a discomfort he couldn’t place.

He glanced toward the forest. Nothing moved. Still, his hand unconsciously drifted to the fan tucked in his waist sash. He didn’t open it, just held it.

A bell rang in the distance.

Time for the Inner Sect orientation.

---

⸻

As Kael and a few dozen other newly promoted inner disciples gathered in the grand terrace, a veiled figure watched from the outer wall of the White Ember Sect.

They did not wear sect robes. Nor did their presence stir the protective arrays.

A Brandbearer of the Shadowmarked Cult, disguised beneath illusion and dust-magic, traced a finger along a parchment etched with Kael’s image. His violet eyes had already begun drawing the cult’s attention.

The figure whispered a phrase, breath fogging unnaturally despite the warmth:

“The Seed has awakened.”

Then they vanished into the mist.

---

⸻

Back in the Hall of Flames, Elder Xuan met the eyes of Elder Mireen.

“We need to increase surveillance,” Mireen muttered.

Xuan nodded grimly. “And the boy?”

“Watch him. Quietly.”

---

⸻

Kael, unaware of the ancient mirror pulsing below him, unaware of veiled cultists slipping through cracks in the world, walked the sect grounds with a subtle furrow in his brow.

Something had changed in him.

And somewhere, something had noticed.

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