The Prince Who Couldn't Shine

“Some are born with fire. Others must burn to earn it.”

(Heaven remembers every spark — and who dared to make it burn.)

✦ Age 10 — The Yard That Breathed ✦

Morning in Heaven was never quiet.

The Sentinel Training Fields shimmered beneath the Crystal Heart’s glow — long rows of soldiers moved in perfect rhythm, their auras blazing like fragments of a living sunrise.

Each Sentinel trained their element through motion, sound, and restraint.

A line of fireborn drilled first — blades sweeping arcs that left trails of molten gold in the air before sealing into sparks.

Watercallers formed shifting barriers that curved like glass rivers, catching light and sound in perfect reflection.

The windbound leapt between platforms of compressed air, feet never touching the ground.

Even the stoneward stood unmoving — fists clenched, the ground pulsing under their feet like a heartbeat shared between soul and earth.

It was like watching the elements remember who they belonged to.

Control. Stability. Evolution.

Every few moments, one trainee’s energy flared too hard — the air crackled, fire roared, water froze — and the instructors barked corrections before the imbalance shattered the harmony.

“Steady the flow! Ryvane bends, it doesn’t obey!”

“Let the element listen before you command it!”

From the sidelines, three young faces watched — wide-eyed, half in awe, half in envy.

Kael leaned forward, grin sharp.

“See that? That’s what I’m gonna do.”

Lyra’s voice stayed soft. “They make it look… alive.”

Haise said nothing.

He only watched the way the flames folded back into light — the way every pulse of power seemed to match the Crystal Heart’s rhythm.

For a moment, he wondered if the Heart was breathing with them.

✦ Instructor’s Arrival ✦

The morning heat stilled when Queen Yumi descended across the training terrace, her robes of silver light rippling like water made of memory.

The trainees straightened immediately, wings folding.

Behind her walked a tall man clad in crimson-iron armor, his every step measured — not heavy, not light — just inevitable.

His presence pulled the air tight. Even the Ryvane streams bent subtly around him.

“Children,” Yumi called, her tone both kind and unyielding. “From today onward, your training enters the Iron Concord discipline.”

She turned slightly, her silver eyes glinting.

“This is your instructor — Captain Renshiro Vaizen, of the Iron Concord.”

He bowed slightly — not to Yumi, but to the Heart itself.

“Discipline,” he said, voice low and even, “is the language Heaven respects most.”

Then his gaze shifted to the trio.

“Prince Haise. Kael. Lyra. I will teach you how to make even silence obey.”

Kael whispered, “He’s intense.”

Lyra blinked. “He feels like… gravity.”

Haise only watched the way the Ryvane bent faintly at the man’s heels — every element recoiling like soldiers saluting a general.

Renshiro turned toward the weapons rack.

“Lesson one,” he said.

“No flame. No wind. No miracles. Only balance.”

He drew out three simple wooden swords, each polished until they caught the reflection of the Heart above.

He placed them before the trio.

“When 

you can master this,” he said, “the Heart might consider listening.”

✦ Wooden Swords ✦

The first time I held a real wooden sword, it felt heavier than the weight of my name.

Kael stood across from me in the training yard, his stance sharp, every movement precise.

He wasn’t swinging a stick — he was wielding it like a weapon.

His eyes locked on mine, steel against fire, daring me to falter.

The instructor — a veteran from the Iron Concord Legion — barked:

“Begin! Prince— Kael!”

Kael lunged—clean, precise, like a command.

Mine swung back—hesitant, human.

More like I was swatting a giant bug.

CRACK!

His blade smacked mine aside, vibrations stinging up my arm.

Kael smirked:

“The King’s son, huh? I’ll beat you every time.”

My cheeks burned. I tightened my grip, teeth grinding.

“I don’t care! I won’t let you beat me forever. One day, I’ll win!”

Kael tilted his head, his smirk turning sharper:

“We’ll see.”

Under a shade tree, Lyra giggled — her green hair shimmering like sunlight on water.

“Haise, you looked so serious! Like a warrior already.”

Warrior? More like a flailing toddler with a stick.

Still, in that moment, I carved a vow into my chest:

I won’t lose. Not forever. One day, Kael — I’ll beat you.

The others’ light hums when they breathe. Mine waits. Maybe it’s listening for something I haven’t said yet. If the Heart really hears every spark… why does it stay quiet for me?

Far above, the Crystal Heart pulsed faintly, as if it had overheard my childish declaration: a promise too small to matter — yet somehow, it listened.

✦ Lessons in Ryvane ✦

At ten, the instructors introduced Ryvane-flow training. We sat cross-legged, breathing slowly, told to imagine rivers flowing through our veins.

Kael sparked light instantly, faint arcs glowing around his hands. Lyra’s aura pulsed naturally, steady and bright.

Me? I sweated. Strained. Hours passed before I managed a flicker.

The instructor frowned.

“Strange. The King’s son should find this easier.”

The words cut deep. Expectations pressed against me like chains.

That night, staring at the ceiling, I clenched my fists.

“I’ll get it. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Someone unseen lingered nearby — their presence more shadow than breath, watching like the Heart’s echo wearing a face.

✦ Training Rivalry ✦

A year later, training grew harsher. Sweat burned. Blades flashed. Bruises multiplied.

Kael’s swings were arcs of light. Mine? Still shaky. Still clumsy. The instructors sighed every time I stumbled.

A passing soldier muttered:

“Prince Haise still falls too easily.”

My back smacked the ground, air punched from my lungs.

Kael extended his hand — smug, but not cruel.

“You’re improving. Slowly. But improving.”

“Shut up. I’ll surpass you.”

Kael laughed — certain.

“I’m waiting.”

Lyra ran over, dabbing sweat from my forehead with a cloth. Her gentle smile eased my bruised pride.

And in that moment, I understood:

Kael wasn’t just my rival. He was my measure. My shadow. My fire.

And Lyra? She was the calm between our storms.

Even the soldiers on watch muttered rumors of demons — voices low like curses.

Kael spat once, declaring he’d slay every demon alive. I stayed quiet — but the word burned inside me.

Demons weren’t fairy tales. They were waiting. Waiting for me.

✦ Lyra’s Healing ✦

Another spar. Another painful fall.

Kael’s strike slammed me down hard. My elbow scraped stone — bleeding.

Lyra rushed over, kneeling beside me.

“Hold still, Pri—”

“Don’t call me that. Just Haise.”

Her pout softened.

“…Okay, Haise.”

Her hands glowed faint green — warmth spreading through my skin.

The wound closed like it had never existed.

I stared:

“You… healed me.”

She pouted softly:

“You’re reckless. Stop making me fix you every time.”

Lyra (inner) : He jokes about pain, but every wound hums like it’s hiding something older. When he walked away, the light around him dimmed — but it didn’t fade. It waited.

Everyone whispered about her — the prodigy, the healer born with power since birth.

Her glow felt less like magic and more like forgiveness.

But me? I whispered only to myself:

She’ll be mine.

Kael rolled his eyes at the way I stared — but said nothing. Maybe he understood. Maybe he liked watching me squirm.

Either way, her touch lingered long after the wound was gone.

✦ Age - 11 Morning Drills — The Weight of Nothing ✦

Dawn spilled through the Crystal Courtyard, painting the training rings in molten gold. I was already there — before even the Sentinels lit the torches.

Barefoot. Breathing slow. Repeating the forms until breath and blade blurred.

Each swing whispered through the air — not enough to sing, not enough to spark.

Sweat traced glowing lines on my arms — faint, almost beautiful. Then they faded, leaving only human warmth.

Instructor’s voice cut through:

“Focus, Prince. Ryvane flows with conviction. Not emotion.”

“Remember the Path, Prince,” the instructor said, his tone half warning, half pride. “Every soul begins as a Seeker — the one who still asks why.

Some climb to the New Moon, where Ryvane finally stirs awake.

Others are born already glowing — the Crescents, blessed from their first breath.”

Around me, halos shimmered faintly. Kael’s aura burned steady. Lyra’s traced a perfect green crescent — effortless, radiant.

Mine stayed quiet. Still asking. Still waiting.

Easy for him to say — his veins already sang like a harp.

I straightened, exhaled, and began again. Sword up. Breath down.

Even gods sweat. That’s what the instructors never admit.

Every motion begging the Heart to notice.

Still nothing.

The floor’s reflection laughed back at me — soft, patient, cruel.

Maybe the others were right — every Seeker’s reflection mocks them first. That’s how Heaven decides who truly wants to rise.

✦Balcony after training ✦

The palace lights dulled to silver hush. Haise leaned on the railing, arms bandaged, pride still smarting. Yumi stepped beside him, her wings faint reflections of the stars.

Yumi: “You breathe like someone trying to prove it’s worth the effort.”

Haise: “Maybe I am.”

She smiled, tired but tender. “The Heart never measures effort in sparks. It listens for endurance.” He looked away, thinking that sounded too kind to be true.

Below them, clouds parted; Kael’s training ground flickered with late-night fire.

Yumi (quiet): “You keep chasing him, but he’s chasing something too.” “What?” “Your calm. Even storms envy stillness.”

She touched the scar on my wrist — the one from a splintered sword hilt — and whispered, “Don’t chase light. Become it.”

She left him with that riddle and the soft scent of rainlight.

As she vanished into the mist, I pressed my palm to the sky. For a second, I swore the stars pulsed back.

End of Chapter 7 - The Prince Who Couldn't Shine

Heaven measures sparks, not scars. I’ll give it both.