The isolation room's walls pressed in, glowing symbols pulsing in rhythm with Caspian’s heart. He’d been pacing the room, certain he’d started wearing a path in the woven floor mats that creaked beneath him. The walls were too close, pressing in on him with glowing symbols that pulsed in rhythm with his heart. He ran a hand along the etchings, tracing the strange curves. They were oddly calming, almost encouraging him to trace over every symbol. Had it not been for the numbing sensation in his fingers, he might have lost himself in a trance.

He shook his head, pulling his hand free. “No. Focus,” he growled.

As night fell and the moon streamed in from the window, Caspian pressed his ear to the door. The earlier bustle had faded to silence. He smiled. It was time.

Caspian crossed the room and peered out through the glass, eying the wall between him and the forest that glowed with strange bioluminescent plants. He’d have to be quick, sneaking out the main entrance and disappearing into those woods, running nonstop until he found…somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He took a deep breath, centering himself. The dampening symbols flared as he reached for his power, but Caspian pushed back, gritting his teeth against the pressure. Sparks danced weakly along his fingertips as he directed them toward the window latch.

The metal glowed red-hot momentarily before snapping open with a soft click. Caspian grinned. Even in a room like this, he still had control.

He slipped through the window and dropped to the ground in a crouch. The air was warm against his skin, carrying the sweet scent of night blooms. Caspian moved swiftly along the wall, his footsteps silent on the soft grass.

As he neared the main grounds, he noted the empty pillars—pillars that previously contained carved statues of strange creatures. His soldier instincts kicked in, and his awareness heightened as he strained to listen.

He pressed himself against the wall just in time to hear a set of low grunts. Pulling his cloak over himself, he watched as a massive beast with clawed feet and rough-hewn red and white scales lumbered by. Its serpentine body moved with grace for its size, shimmering in the moonlight. Caspian held his breath, willing his heart to slow its frantic beating.

The creature passed by him, walking beyond the entrance and behind the building. As it vanished, Caspian darted toward the gates, his hair on end, and raced to the woods.

He hadn’t made it ten paces before a second beast, this one with scales of deep blue and silver, descended from the stone fence. It landed with surprising silence, long whiskers twitching as it regarded Caspian with eyes that glowed like amber coals.

These weren’t like anything he’d seen before. They moved with an intelligence, and sharp claws that dug into the earth. The blue beast tilted its head back, taking in a deep breath.

Caspian took advantage of the moment and shot off a bolt of lightning that struck a tree beside the creature. As it blinked, rubbing at its eyes, Caspian bolted, slipping into the forest and leaping over gnarled roots.

He didn’t look back, running as hard as he could. After a while, he lost track of time, passing over hills, through clearings, and losing sight of the massive lake that the retreat had overlooked. His lungs burned, and his legs ached, but the fear kept him running.

The moon was his guide, following overhead, leading him to freedom.

As the moon traveled the sky above him, setting through the trees ahead, he broke free from the woods to a massive cliff. He stopped just short of the edge, vertigo squeezing his throat.

Even with the moon ahead, he couldn’t see anything beyond the cliff. No shore below, no ocean beyond. Just an inky void that swallowed everything.

He frowned, straining to hear the waves, but there was nothing. Only a silence that echoed in his ears.

He gathered his power, energy crackling on his fingertips as he fired a bolt of lightning off into the darkness. It flew into the void, becoming a tiny point of light before colliding with something unseen and scattering in all directions like a firework.

Caspian frowned and readied another bolt.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a stern voice called out.

He spun around, hand ready to shock anyone he saw. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

The moon above him glowed bright, shifting from silver to gold as it descended and floated toward him. The light became so bright that Caspian staggered back, shielding his eyes.

As the light faded, Fiona stood before him, her form shimmering with golden light. She considered Caspian, her arms folded across her chest, one eyebrow raised.

“That’s quite the stroll you’ve taken. Going somewhere?” she asked, a slight smile on her face.

Caspian straightened, lightning crackling around his fists. “What are you?”

“Many things. Founder, caretaker, occasional light for your journey.”

“Let me leave,” he demanded.

Fiona shook her head, her short golden hair rippling like sunlight on water. “I’m curious why you’re trying to run from a place that might actually help you, Caspian Stormrider?”

“Help me?” Caspian scoffed. “By trapping me here?”

Fiona’s expression softened slightly. “Do you think this is a prison?” She gestured out to the void beyond the cliff. “That out there. The nothingness. That’s the prison. This place is a chance.”

“A chance for what? To be a puppet to the gods?” Sparks arced off his arms. “Not again. Never again.”

“Oh, please cut out the theatrics,” Fiona said. “If I wanted an army of puppets, I would have opened a theater.”

Rage surged through Caspian. He hurled a bolt of lightning at her, pouring all his frustration and fear into the attack. Fiona waved a hand, and the bolt dissipated into sparks.

“Interesting,” she mused as she examined her hand. “Your power resists the waning more than any other hero who has come before. It’s a part of you, you know. Not a gift from your god.”

Caspian faltered, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion. “What do you mean?”

Fiona’s gaze met his, steady and knowing. “I mean that the storm inside you? It’s yours. Not your god’s. Not mine. Yours.”

“But...the Father of Storms...he gave me this power,” Caspian said, frowning.

“Did he?” Fiona smiled. “Or did he just wake something inside you? Why do you think you’re here? Why do you think any of you are here? Your gods realized they couldn’t control you anymore. You’re too strong, too...human.”

Caspian’s mind reeled. “But…I’m his weapon. I’m just…”

“Is that what you want to be? A weapon?” Fiona asked. “Because I’ve seen many ‘weapons’ come through here. And not one of them has ever been ‘just’ anything.”

The sky above them darkened, storm clouds gathering as Caspian’s mind raced. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Fiona glanced up, a slight smile on her face. “That’s all you. All your emotions, your power. No god here pulling the strings.”

Caspian clenched his fists, willing the storm to recede. “I can’t control it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet,” Fiona corrected. “But that’s why you’re here. To learn, to grow. To become more than what others have told you you are.”

Caspian’s gaze lingered on the darkness beyond the cliff, then turned back to Fiona. “And if I stay...what then? What am I supposed to do?”

Fiona’s eyes softened. “You live, Caspian. You heal. You figure out who you are when you’re not fighting someone else’s war.”

Slowly, Caspian let the lightning fade from his hands. “OK, I...I’ll stay,” he said, meeting Fiona’s gaze. “For now. But I’m not promising anything.”

Fiona smiled. “That’s all I ask for. A chance.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Now, come. Grab on, and let me take you back to your room.”

Caspian hesitated, then grabbed her hand. The world around him blurred into streaks of color and light. Trees and hills zipped past him. The path he’d traveled, the hours it had taken him, flew by in seconds.

Then they stood at the lodge's front entrance, the two gigantic creatures staring back at them with burning eyes.

“What are they?” Caspian asked, unable to take his gaze off them.

“Creatures from my time,” Fiona said. “I’ve heard some people call them dragons, but that’s not what we called them. They are guardians. Watchers. Old friends.”

She waved him on, patting both creatures on the head as she walked by. They leaned into her touch, rumbling as they nuzzled her hand.

“Were they supposed to keep me from running?” Caspian asked, carefully walking past them. “If so, they did a lousy job.”

Fiona laughed. “Far from it. They keep watch, that is all. I can’t see everything happening here, so they let me know when residents decide to run off to the edge.”

When they reached his room, Caspian paused at the threshold, looking back at Fiona. “What am I supposed to do now?” he asked.

Fiona smiled. “Rest. Tomorrow, we’ll begin. And tomorrow, perhaps the weapons will become tools.”

With that, she turned and walked away, her form dissolving into a golden light that shined onto the ceiling.

Caspian sat on the edge of his bed, his gaze drawn to the window and the moon settling back into the sky. He lay down, staring at the ceiling and the faint glowing symbols, pulling gently at his magic.

Could he really be something different? Something more than a pawn on the battlefield?