The morning air hung thick with tension.

Kazi sat at the edge of the camp, her knees drawn to her chest, staring at the horizon beyond the crumbling arches where they'd taken shelter. Dawn had barely broken, and yet she hadn’t slept since the vision. Her mind kept replaying the voices, the symbols, and the memory that wasn’t hers but still felt etched into her soul.

Azibo. The name echoed now with weight. It wasn’t just a title or ancient story, it had spoken to her. It had chosen to reveal itself.

Behind her, Dakarai stretched and groaned as he stirred from his bedroll. “Still up?” he asked, his voice hoarse with sleep.

Kazi nodded but didn’t answer.

Rhazir approached quietly from the shadows beneath the arch. His footsteps barely made a sound, and his presence seemed to draw a slight chill to the air.

“You saw something,” he said, not as a question but a fact.

Kazi turned toward him. “It wasn’t a dream. I don’t think it ever was.”

She told them both about Azibo’s voice, the massive circle of glowing figures, the strange visions of places she didn’t recognize, and the final warning: ‘They will come for the rest’.

Dakarai’s face darkened. “That’s what those shadow things were. They were already coming for me.”

Rhazir knelt beside the fire pit, dragging his fingers through the ashes. “If Azibo spoke directly to you, it means you’re further along than I thought.”

Kazi’s brow furrowed. “Further along in what?”

“Resonance,” he said. “The deeper the bond between you and the Mark of Azibo, the clearer its voice becomes. But it’s not just speaking, it’s remembering through you.”

Kazi touched her forearm where the mark rested. “Then what are we supposed to do with that?”

“Use it,” Rhazir said. “Shape it. Master it.”

He stood, brushing ash from his hands. “And that means training starts now.”

The day unfolded under a sky of low clouds and golden light. The group found a clearing not far from the ruins, flat, open, and bordered by jagged stones that hummed faintly with the same ambient energy Kazi had begun to recognize as natural resonance zones. Not strong enough for a full awakening, but perfect for practice.

Rhazir stood in the center of the clearing, his coat shifting in the breeze. “Each Line responds differently,” he explained. “But the principles are the same. Intuition. Control. Flow.”

He turned to Dakarai first. “You’re lightning. You move fast, react faster. But you’re all impulse and no focus.”

Dakarai smirked. “You trying to train me or roast me?”

“Both,” Rhazir replied dryly.

He had Dakarai stand between two trees, then raised a finger. “Control the arc. Don’t hit the trunks. Split the space in between.”

Dakarai nodded, then raised his hand. Sparks built at his palm, and in a flash, a bolt fired forward, missing one tree entirely and scorching the other.

Rhazir didn’t even blink. “Again. But this time, feel the pull. Don’t fight the lightning. Guide it.”

Kazi watched as Dakarai tried again, his stance shifting slightly, his breathing slowing.

Then Rhazir turned to Kazi.

“You, Ember girl, step up.”

Kazi raised a brow. “Is that what you’re calling me now?”

“You carry the Ember Line. Let’s see if you can make it more than a bonfire.”

He motioned to a patch of tall grass. “Burn a single blade. No more.”

Kazi walked over, crouched beside the grass, and took a breath. Her mark pulsed softly.

She reached out.

A faint flicker danced from her fingertip, and the whole patch went up in a wave of fire.

Rhazir winced.

Kazi stood, brushing soot from her hands. “Okay. So, not a single blade.”

Dakarai laughed from across the clearing.