Chapter Four: The Devil's Gifts

The ruins of the chapel became their sanctuary, a forgotten place where gods no longer watched, where the weight of their choices settled into something tangible. Here, beneath the broken arches and silent stone, they learned what it meant to wield infernal power.

Kael learned first. The shadows obeyed him, bending to his will, slithering at his feet like living things. At first, they reacted in bursts—shifting when he was startled, writhing when he was angry. But as the days passed, he began to understand them. They were not mere darkness; they were an extension of himself. He could become part of them, vanish into them, move unseen through the world. He experimented with their form—sharpening them into blades, stretching them into tendrils that grasped and bound.

Jax watched one evening as Kael melted into the darkness, only to reappear a breath later behind him. "That's unsettling as hell," Jax muttered, shaking his head. "You could tap me on the shoulder, and I wouldn't even know it was coming."

Kael smirked. "That's the idea."

Lira's power was more elusive, more treacherous. She saw beyond the veil of reality, glimpsing truths buried beneath time itself. The voices were relentless, speaking in riddles and fragmented echoes, showing her flashes of things that had not yet come to pass. At first, they threatened to overwhelm her. Every whisper gnawed at her mind, every vision left her breathless and disoriented. But Kael was there, grounding her when she was lost, reminding her what was real and what was not.

One night, she gasped, gripping his arm. "We shouldn't go near the river tomorrow. If we do, we'll be caught."

Kael's brows furrowed. "Caught by who?"

"I don't know yet," Lira admitted, her voice tight. "But the feeling is strong. We change our path, or we risk everything."

Jax embraced his gift with reckless determination. Fire coursed through his veins, responding to his emotions with wild unpredictability. At first, he lost control more times than he mastered it—burning through cloth, scorching stone, nearly setting the chapel ablaze in his frustration. The others kept their distance when he trained, wary of his temper and the destruction it left in its wake. But Lira refused to let him falter.

"You're holding too much back," she told him one night as his flames sputtered out too soon. "You're fighting against the fire instead of letting it flow."

Jax exhaled sharply. "That's easy for you to say. You don't feel it burning inside you."

"No," Lira agreed, stepping closer. "But I know control doesn't come from fear. Accept it, Jax. Make it yours."

Mira's power frightened her. The energy within her was raw, pulsing, violent. Unlike Jax's flames, which could be wielded with discipline, hers demanded release. Blood-red light crackled at her fingertips, capable of tearing through stone and steel alike. The first time she lost control, she shattered a column in the chapel, the force of it sending debris raining down around them. She was terrified of what she could do, of what it meant.

One evening, Theo found her alone, staring at her hands. "You're afraid of hurting someone."

Mira swallowed hard, nodding. "What if I can't stop it next time? What if I—"

Theo placed a hand over hers, the air around him heavy with unseen force. "Then we'll find a way to make sure you can. You don't have to do this alone."

Theo was the last to master his abilities, but his were the strangest of all. The others could see their power manifest, could feel it burn, crackle, shift. But Theo's power was silent, invisible—yet undeniable. Chains unseen wove around him, binding him to something deeper, something older. At first, they resisted his command, tightening around him when he tried to summon them. But as he trained, as he listened rather than fought, he understood.

One night, as the others watched, he extended a hand. The air shimmered, and then—chains materialized, wrapping around his arm like living things. They stretched outward, striking the stone, leaving deep grooves in their wake.

Jax let out a low whistle. "Alright. That's impressive."

Theo flexed his fingers, the chains vanishing as quickly as they had come. He met their gazes, his voice quiet but certain. "Now we're ready."

Together, they honed their gifts, shaping them into something stronger, something deadly. The chapel walls bore the scars of their training—charred stone, broken pillars, deep gashes where power had struck. They tested their limits, pushed their bodies, fought against their own fears. It was exhausting, brutal work. But it was necessary.

Because soon, they would not just be training against empty air. Soon, the kingdom would know what they had become.