Tides of Dominion

The days that followed were slow, yet unrelenting.

Kaien fell into the rhythm of training once more, his movements sharper, his instincts keener. The power he had stolen had woven itself into him so seamlessly that it felt as if it had always been there, lying dormant beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to awaken.

But Kaien knew the truth.

This was not his strength.

It was something taken. Something that did not belong.

And yet, it had become his.

The air carried the scent of salt and damp stone, a constant reminder of how close they were to the sea. The tides had always been present in their training, guiding their techniques, shaping their growth. But now, after two weeks of relentless drills, of mastering the ebb and flow of their abilities, Master Aedric finally gathered them for something different.

Something foundational.

They stood in a semi-circle on the training grounds, the sun casting long shadows behind them. The wind hummed low and steady, like the whisper of distant waves. Aedric stood before them, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze sharp as ever.

"You have trained well these past weeks," he began, his voice like the steady rhythm of the tide. "You have learned to shape your Inner Tide, to feel its flow, to harness its movement. But power without understanding is as reckless as a ship without a rudder."

Kaien stood motionless, his breath steady, listening.

"Today," Aedric continued, "you will begin to understand where you stand."

His gaze swept across them.

"You are not all equal in strength. Not yet. And you will never be equal in potential."

The words hung in the air, unvarnished and sharp. Some of the students shifted uncomfortably. Others straightened their backs, as if silently refusing to accept that they might be lesser than another.

Kaien remained still.

"You have all heard of the Levels of Tide." Aedric's voice was quiet, but it cut through the tension like a blade through water. "But you do not yet understand them."

He raised a single hand, fingers loose, as if feeling the air itself.

"There are five levels to the mastery of the Tide."

Silence.

Then, slowly, he began.

Aedric's fingers barely moved as he spoke.

"The first level is Initiate."

His eyes swept across the younger students, the ones who had yet to grasp true control.

"An Initiate is one who has only begun to feel the flow of their Inner Tide. Their connection is fragile, like a boat at the mercy of the sea. They can use their power in bursts, but they do not yet understand it. Their techniques are inefficient, and their endurance is short-lived."

Kaien thought back to when he had first started training. The way his power had felt raw, uncertain, slipping from his grasp when he needed it most. He had once been an Initiate, though he had never thought of himself that way.

He glanced at Lyra. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. But Kaien knew—she was still an Initiate.

And it frustrated her.

Aedric's fingers moved slightly, like ripples in water.

"The second level is Adept."

His gaze lingered on those who had begun to refine their abilities, those who could wield their power with more consistency.

"An Adept understands the flow of their Inner Tide. They no longer fight against it; they move with it. Their techniques are sharper, their endurance longer. They can shape the tide around them with more precision, though they still lack the depth of true mastery."

Aedric's eyes locked onto Kaien then.

And Kaien knew.

This was where he stood.

Except… it didn't feel right.

He had become an Adept too quickly. Far too quickly.

The power he had taken had skipped the struggle, had bypassed the natural learning curve. He had stolen the knowledge.

A sour feeling twisted in his chest.

Aedric turned away, moving on.

"The third level is Tideborn."

Now, Aedric's hand moved like a rolling wave, fluid and effortless.

"A Tideborn does not simply wield their Inner Tide. They become it. Their connection is instinctual, their power an extension of their will. They do not struggle to control the flow—it obeys them naturally. Their techniques are refined, their strength undeniable."

A few students inhaled sharply.

Tideborns were rare.

They were the warriors who could stand on the battlefield and bend the tide of war itself.

Kaien's heart beat steady, controlled.

He wondered… how close was he?

Aedric's movements grew larger, as if the weight of his words carried the weight of the ocean itself.

"The fourth level is Deepcaller."

His tone was heavier now.

"A Deepcaller is more than a warrior. They are a force. Their presence alone can shift the balance of battle. Their tide does not simply flow—it commands. The sea does not dictate their power; they dictate the sea itself."

Kaien felt the weight of those words settle over him.

He had never met a Deepcaller before.

But he had heard the stories.

They were the ones who could crush entire ships with a single motion. Who could summon waves with a breath. Who could drown cities.

Aedric's hand stilled.

Then, with deliberate precision, he clenched his fist.

"And the final level," he said softly, "is Paragon."

The word hung in the air like a ghost.

No one spoke.

Because no one had ever seen a Paragon.

"They do not exist among us," Aedric continued, his tone distant. "Or if they do, they remain hidden. A Paragon is not bound by the limits of the sea. They are the sea. The tide is not their tool—it is their essence."

He turned to face them fully, his eyes sharp, piercing.

"If you wish to reach this level, abandon the thought now. It is a foolish dream."

Silence.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, one of the students dared to ask:

"Have you ever seen one?"

Aedric's expression did not change.

But Kaien saw something there.

Something unreadable.

A pause.

And then, Aedric said quietly,

"Once."

The lesson ended.

The students left, their thoughts heavy, their ambitions uncertain.

But Kaien remained.

Standing in the empty courtyard, staring at the ground, feeling the tide within him shift.

Paragon.

Something about the word called to him.

Something deep.

Something dark.

And he wondered.

Had the power he had stolen… set him on that path?