The combat field known as the Crescent Yard was alive with sound—the clash of steel on steel, the hum of controlled mana, the bark of instructors. White morning mist clung to the stone tiles, but the cold had long fled from Alex's body. Sweat rolled down his back as he gripped a dulled training blade, breath ragged.
"Again!" barked the instructor.
This one wasn't Therion. It was Master Halvek—a broad-shouldered brute with a broken nose and voice like gravel. He paced between the dueling pairs with a weighted stave in hand. Anyone who dropped their weapon met the stave's unforgiving kiss.
Alex squared off with a lanky second-year named Corlen. The boy fought with a style built for speed, all flourishes and spins, while Alex relied on footwork and tight parries. The clash was brief.
Alex sidestepped, twisted his hips, and brought his blade across Corlen's thigh. The other boy yelped and fell.
"Good," Halvek muttered. "Next."
As Alex stepped back, Nikki offered a quick nod from across the yard. She was already deep into her own session, loosing blunt-tipped arrows at moving targets with quiet precision.
But the watching eyes weren't all friendly.
On the northern edge of the yard, a trio of robed students leaned against the stone rail. Their uniforms were trimmed with silver, and the crest of House Varien shimmered on their shoulders.
Kaelen stood at the center.
He didn't speak, but the way he stared at Alex made the steel feel heavier in his hand.
---
Combat drills were followed by magic control.
Each student was paired with a mana prism—a hovering crystal designed to react to mental energy. The goal: rotate the prism with raw willpower. No words. No runes. Just focus.
Alex sat cross-legged, sweat beading on his brow as he stared at his prism. Others had already made theirs spin, flicker, even hover.
His remained still.
Nikki sat beside him, hers gently rotating.
"Relax your grip," she whispered. "You're forcing it. Let the mana flow."
"I'm trying."
"No, you're overthinking."
He exhaled, reached inward.
There.
The mark pulsed. Something ancient stirred.
> Focus not on force. Focus on intent.
Kaer Thalor's voice wasn't loud—just there, like an echo behind the ribs.
Alex focused again. The prism shimmered, quivered… and spun.
Master Halvek raised an eyebrow. "Finally."
---
That night, as the tower's curfew bells rang, Alex climbed to the observatory again.
Nikki followed, wordless, until they sat side by side beneath the open stars.
"You're learning fast," she said.
"I have to."
"Still... something's different about you. Since the trial. You hear things, don't you?"
He hesitated.
"Yeah."
"Do they talk back?"
"Yes."
Silence fell between them.
"Don't let it consume you," she said. "There's always a price. I've read the histories. Those with bonded spirits don't live quietly."
"I don't need quiet. I need control."
Nikki studied him, her eyes solemn. "Then you'll need to be stronger than the spirit you carry."
He nodded, fingers curling against the edge of the stone.
"I intend to be."
---
Two days later, they were summoned to the Arena of Echoes.
A high-level combat evaluation.
Students filled the spectator tiers, whispering excitedly. A formal duel was about to begin.
Kaelen stood at the far end of the platform, clad in ceremonial gray robes with silver etchings. His opponent: a third-year named Renn, known for his lightning-quick swordplay and volatile wind magic.
Therion observed from the shadows.
The match began.
Renn lunged. Kaelen did not dodge.
His hand moved once.
Renn froze mid-strike.
His blade shattered.
Kaelen whispered a wordless invocation, and a shimmer of violet flame danced along his arms.
Renn crumpled, unconscious.
The arena fell silent.
Therion stepped forward. "Power without control is destruction. But power with purpose... is destiny."
His eyes slid to Alex.
"Soon, you'll face your own trial."
---
That night, Alex trained alone. No blade. No rune circle.
Just himself, Kaer Thalor's presence, and the prism.
"Show me what you saw in the trial," he whispered.
The spirit stirred.
> Blood forges power. But it is will that shapes it. Not fear.
Alex reached inward.
And the prism spun like a storm.
---