Sylas sat cross-legged in the dimly lit storeroom, his mind racing with possibilities. He had already discovered that pure energy behaved differently from elental energies—it lacked a defining property, making it unpredictable and difficult to control. But there had to be more to it than just its neutrality. There had to be a reason it even existed in the first place.
He closed his eyes, reaching inward. The pure energy within him was like a pool of colorless liquid, lacking any shape or purpose of its own. Unlike fire, which burned, or water, which flowed, this energy simply was.
A bold thought took hold of him. What if pure energy wasn’t ant to be used in its raw form? What if it was a bridge—sothing that could be molded into any elental affinity?
If that were the case, then the true power of pure energy wasn’t in its neutrality, but in its adaptability. It could beco anything. But how?
Sylas concentrated harder, willing the energy inside him to change. He envisioned fire—crackling, consuming, fierce. He urged the energy to shift, to take on its properties. He felt resistance, but also… potential. As if the energy recognized his intent but lacked the ans to obey.
He tried again, this ti focusing on water. He imagined a calm lake, steady and flowing. But still, nothing happened. The energy remained unchanged, stubbornly refusing to adopt any form.
His frustration grew. The logic was there—it should work. Why won’t it transform?
Then, another realization struck him. If pure energy could change, then wouldn’t elental energy be able to revert back to its purest state as well? If he could not turn pure energy into fire, could he break fire back down into pure energy?
He extended his senses outward. In the room, a single candle flickered. It was a small fla, barely noticeable, yet it was energy all the sa. Sylas reached out with his will, attempting to pull the fire’s essence apart—to strip it of its defining properties and return it to a neutral state.
A searing pain stabbed through his mind. His vision blurred, his body shuddered, and for a mont, the air around him felt wrong. The fla flickered violently, dimming before flaring back with an unnatural brightness. A chill crept through the room despite the heat of the candle.
Sylas gasped, breaking the connection, his forehead slick with sweat.
His body trembled. So it is possible… but sothing is missing.
The transformation between pure energy and elental energy was real—he could feel it—but it wasn’t sothing he could achieve on his own. Sothing vital was missing from the equation, a missing key preventing him from harnessing this ability.
A gust of wind slipped through the cracks in the storeroom, snuffing out the candle.
In the sudden darkness, Sylas’s thoughts sharpened. He needed more knowledge, more experintation. If pure energy was the foundation of all affinities, then transformation required more than just intent. It needed a catalyst—a force or technique that could break down and reshape energy at will.
His mind raced through the lessons he had overheard from his siblings’ training sessions. Alchemy, runes, formations—each discipline dealt with energy manipulation in so form. Perhaps the answer lay there.
He clenched his fists, determination burning in his eyes. He would study conversion, even if it ant seeking out knowledge beyond the teachings of House Aldreth. If the answer wasn’t within his body yet, he would find it elsewhere.
A sudden rustling outside the storeroom made him tense.
Sylas remained still, his breathing shallow. Footsteps. Then a whisper.
"Are you sure you saw sothing?"
"Yes, I swear it. The candle… it changed colors."
A flicker of unease passed through him. He had been careful, but even small disturbances did not go unnoticed in a noble household.
He exhaled slowly. This was only the beginning.
One day, he would find the missing key.
And when he did, nothing in this world would be beyond his reach.
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