Matheo still stared at his fingers, where a small flame trembled. It didn’t burn, it didn’t wound. It simply danced, as if it were part of him. For the first time, he felt what it was to manipulate the Black Light.
I… I manifested…

Lockless watched him in silence, arms crossed. Then he cleared his throat.
“Don’t lose yourself in daydreams, boy. This is only the first step.”

Matheo looked up, unsettled.
“The Black Light’s fire isn’t just… fire?”

The old man chuckled softly.
“No, it isn’t that simple. What you manifested now was only the energy I activated inside your body. I channeled Caerys, and you responded with Caerys. But that doesn’t mean your power is limited to it.”

“Caerys…?” Matheo repeated, frowning.

Lockless took a long breath, his eyes drifting to the horizon for a moment.
“Where I come from, the climate is like a desert with no cold nights. The body learns to manipulate heat to survive. Heat expands, creates fire. But fire is only a secondary manifestation. I can focus that heat on a point, generate explosions, create gusts by altering air pressure. I can use heat in my feet to propel my body at superhuman speeds.”

He closed his fist, and the aura around his hand flared in gold and red tones. At the same time Matheo noticed the aura around Lockless’s heels begin to glow. He lunged toward a nearby tree and punched the air before it. On impact, the space seemed to shudder — and the tree exploded, splitting into incandescent shards.

Matheo’s eyes widened; he could barely draw breath for a moment.
“That’s Caerys, the face of the Black Light that manipulates heat. “Lockless explained as he returned to stand near his new pupil.”

He raised a finger for each name he spoke:
“Drakens: the cold, the inversion of life.”
“Thalyth: the pulse of vegetation and everything that grows.”
“Vyriath: bodily adaptation, mutation in response to the environment.”
“Caltheris: mastery of flows — telekinesis and invisible control.”

The old man lowered his hand, his voice grave as if each word had been torn from forgotten ages.
“Every being who awakens to the Black Light has affinity for only one of these paths. Only one.”

Matheo blinked, momentarily lost. His heart hammered as if trying to carry the weight of each strange name. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then let out a short, nervous laugh that sounded more like a tired sigh.
“You speak as if you’re reading from a book of mythology,” He muttered, rubbing his face with his hands. “I can barely understand what’s happening to me, and now you toss four… I don’t know, four different languages at me like it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

He dropped his hands, staring at Lockless with eyes red and still inflamed by the pain and rage he carried.
“You know what?” His voice came out firm despite the tremor in his chest. “Fill me with pretty names all you want, but in the end, all I know is I don’t have a choice. I’ll learn.”

Matheo thought further: if just one of them already provided an arsenal like that… and I have them all… then…

Lockless smiled at the light in the young man’s eyes.
“Now you understand why I was stunned when I sensed your aura. A person who can walk all five paths is something that doesn't exist, not even from where I'm from. Sure, I’ve seen beings who could master more than one… but five?”

Matheo closed his hand into a fist, feeling the flame fade.
“But… if I only manifested fire, then that means—”

“It means,” Lockless interrupted, his voice heavy “That I activated in you what I dominate. To awaken the other faces, you must learn to manipulate the energy yourself.”

Lockless stepped closer and stopped in front of him.
“Two objectives will guide your training. First: strengthen your body so it can withstand the pressure of the Black Light. Second: learn to shape your energy until you can manifest each of the five faces.

He looked at him with an expression weighed down, as if already seeing the burden Matheo would carry. 

“It will hurt. It will destroy and rebuild you countless times. If you are not disciplined and resilient, you will die before you reach halfway.”

“Where are you from, master?” Matheo asked softly, almost suspicious. “Your accent… I don’t recognize it from anywhere in the country. And how do you know so much about the Black Light?”

Lockless merely shrugged, eyes half-closed, recalling old memories that felt like a past life. For a moment he wondered if he was ready to reveal ancient secrets. It was not the moment.

Silence stretched, filled only by the distant sound of wind against the living wood. Memories stabbed at Matheo again: his father stabbed until his last breath, his mother and sister dragged away like helpless prey, Marcela’s lifeless body collapsing in his arms. He breathed in deeply, and the pain burned as if it were happening now.

Then he raised his face. His eyes were no longer those of a directionless boy — they were hard, carrying something barely contained within him.
“I’m ready.” He said, each word marked like an oath.

Lockless stared for a few seconds, then closed his eyes. The old man sighed as one who witnessed the inevitable and nodded.
“Yes,”he murmured, his voice grave. “I believe you are.”