Snow lashed sideways across the high training spire.

  Kaelen stood barefoot on black stone, breath fogging the air, lightning flickering weakly beneath his skin.

  Zev Arclight watched him in silence.

  The Lightning Master was tall and lean, pale hair bound in a single braid that crackled faintly with residual charge. His eyes glowed faint blue—not with power unleashed, but with power contained.

  Zev finally spoke.

  “What is lightning?”

  Kaelen swallowed. “Speed. Power. Destruction.”

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  Zev tilted his head.

  “Wrong.”

  Before Kaelen could react, Zev flicked two fingers.

  Lightning slammed into Kaelen’s chest.

  Not enough to kill him.

  Enough to teach.

  Kaelen screamed as his muscles locked, nerves igniting, body convulsing as he collapsed to his knees.

  “Lightning is discipline,” Zev said calmly as he walked forward.

  “It is not rage. It is not fury. It is decision.”

  Kaelen gasped, trying to pull lightning into his core.

  Nothing happened.

  Zev’s boot pressed into Kaelen’s shoulder, forcing him flat.

  “You don’t command lightning,” Zev continued. “You invite it. And you are not worthy yet.”

  For hours, Zev forced Kaelen to stand beneath controlled strikes—never letting him channel, never letting him retaliate. Every time Kaelen reached instinctively, Zev disrupted the flow with precise counterbursts.

  “You flinch.”

  “You hesitate.”

  “You beg with your body.”

  By the end, Kaelen couldn’t feel his fingers.

  Zev finally stepped back.

  “You want lightning because you want to feel strong,” Zev said.

  “That’s why it won’t answer you.”

  Kaelen collapsed into the snow.

  Zev turned away without another word.