Sayan stood at attention with his new cohort. He noticed that Elyria Thalvain and Kaelen Thorne were also in his cohort.
Kaelen Thorne stood like a shadow carved from dusk.
Tall and lean, with a build honed by silence rather than strength, he carried himself with quiet precision. His skin bore the ashen undertone of those raised in the misted cliffs of Duskspire, and faint, jagged scar-lines traced the side of his neck—remnants not of wounds, but Grimspire marks that shimmered faintly when the light caught them.
His hair was raven-black, short at the sides and tousled above, as if it had never been combed, only endured wind and war. Cold grey eyes—unblinking and depthless—watched the world like puzzle pieces always falling into place. There was no warmth in them, only calculation.
Across his right hand stretched the Mark of Grimspire—a hollowed circle inked with branching hooks like fractal vines, pulsing with dim violet-black light.
People rarely looked at him twice.
Not because he didn't stand out—but because when they did,
they felt watched back.
On the contrary, Elyria Thalvain moved like snow falling over steel—graceful, silent, and with the weight of legacy trailing in her shadow.
She was tall and poised, her frame slender but sharp, like a blade forged for both beauty and battle. Her skin bore the pale, glacial hue of the Thalvyn bloodline, kissed faintly blue at the knuckles and collarbones from the deep Ether exposure of the north.
Her hair was a striking white-blonde, braided into a long, intricate tail that shimmered faintly like hoarfrost in morning light. Strands of silver-blue ribbon were woven into it, flowing behind her like mist when she moved. Her eyes—icy grey with a hint of violet—held no softness. They looked through, not at.
On the back of her hand shimmered her Ether Sigil—a delicate frost-petal design encircling a ripple, alive with quiet movement and cold light.
When she stepped into a room,
the air tightened. Not out of fear—but reverence.
Kaelen also noticed Sayan and thought, 'That one is here too' and smirked thinking that things are getting interesting.
Elyria also noticed both Sayan and Kaelen. She found herself staring at Sayan due tohis enigmatic presence.
Sayan noticed Sentry Aleric approaching,
He was like a sculpted monument—broad-shouldered, sun-bronzed, and bearing the quiet intensity of a man who had bent reality to his will and lived to teach it.
His hair was dark gold, cut short and swept back with streaks of ash near the temples, as if scorched by Ether fire. A short beard framed his strong jaw, neat but weathered—like everything else about him. His eyes, a deep amber, glinted with the calm of a teacher and the fury of a battlefield survivor. They never wandered. They measured.
He carried no blade. His stance was proof he didn't need one.
His presence commanded attention not with volume, but with stillness.
He guided them to a hollowed dome in the heart of the stronghold, called the chalice of intention- a circular arena where Etherpaths are first tested in controlled activation.
Its walls are inscribed with fractal scripts of ancient wielders, and the floor responds to the ether of those who step upon it.
Sayan's group, The Ironwake Division was brought here.
"Today you are not tested you are being introduced. There is a difference.
This is flow. Not the ether you felt during the awakening from your mark. This is the first step in shaping what is yours".
He pointed at the flowing shard of obsidian floating in the air above the circle.
"You are here to move this. Not with your hands. Not with rage. Not with fear. With flow."
A student asked, "How do we use it?"
"Flow is not movement," he once said.
"It is intention in motion. Learn that—and the world will shift for you.
It will not move for desperation. It will not move for brute will".
"You must want it to move- but not for show, or pride, or fear of failure."
"You must mean it. See it moved. Believed it moved. Act only when your body and purpose is indivisible.
Then he gestured at Sayan.
"Show us"
Sayan stepped forward. The air grew still.
He closed his eyes. Felt the Ether inside him- not boiling, but waiting.
Breathing. A silent hum behind his ribs.
Then he remembered Aleric's words- Intention
Sayan slowed his breath. Stilled his mind. And instead of trying, he let his desire become a single, absolute truth:
"It will move because it must. Because I have willed it into the moment of now."
His fingers twitched
The shard shivered- and drifted an inch to the side.
A flicker.
Aleric's eyes narrowed.
"That," Aleric said softly, "was the edge of Flow. Trace it. Learn it. Master it."
"Your power begins not in your hands… but in your reasons."
The rest of the cohort would try — many would fail.
But the shard had moved for Sayan.
And for the first time, he understood:
Flow wasn't energy. It was truth in motion.
When the first day of training concluded. No one was able to move the obsidian
Noticing this Aleric spoke,
"Nine supposedly worthy candidates but only one of them was able to grasp the essence of flow and implement it."
All the candidates look at Sayan. Some with revere. Some with envy. But mostly with respect.
"The reason you are unable to move the obsidian, is not because you are lacking in will, determination or strength."
"The reason you are unable to move it is because your Intent isn't strong enough, does not have enough clarity, and lacks stability."
"Let your desire to move the obsidian become absolute. Make your intentions resolute and clear. Then only you will be able to command flow."
"Today's training ends now'. With these words Aleric left. But the initiates remained in the arena and kept trying. Because all of them thought that if one of them was able to move it then can move it too.
Sayan also remained in the arena and tried to refine his control.
Instructor Aleric noticed it from afar and was delighted to see how a single member became a catalyst for everyone's growth.