He turned sharply. "Teacher Devein!"
The elder smiled, hands clasped behind his back. "I've been watching you. You've got potential, young prince — raw, unrefined, but strong. Meet me in the temple courtyard after sundown. I will teach you the method to summon an energy flame properly."
Xerxez's eyes brightened, his earlier frustration melting into delight. "Really?! That's great! I've been trying to puff one up all afternoon — I almost farted from the effort, but still nothing appeared!"
Teacher Devein chuckled softly, shaking his head. "That's a common struggle for new trainees. Don't rush the process — spirit energy isn't born from force, but focus. Once you master it, summoning a flame will be as easy as striking a match."
"Then it's a deal! I'll bring Matheros too — he needs to see this!"
"Very well. See you at the temple, young prince." Devein gave a small nod and walked off, his cloak fluttering lightly in the breeze.
As Xerxez waved him goodbye, a voice suddenly piped up behind him — light but teasing.
"So… you've got a personal mentor now, huh?"
He froze, turning quickly. "Z-Zenny?!"
There she was — Zenny Myrtle McGuirre, arms crossed, chin tilted proudly, a smug grin playing at her lips. "Well, look at you, standing around waiting for someone to notice you. Don't you know everyone's gone already?"
"I was waiting for my friend," Xerxez said, scratching his head. "But what about you? Shouldn't you be heading back with your wood buddies?"
"I stayed behind for one reason," she said, stepping closer. "To let you know... I'm now one point ahead of you."
"One point ahead? What are you talking about?"
"In our challenge!" she declared proudly, placing a hand on her chest. "I managed to form moss around my feet and light up a faint green spark earlier. You, on the other hand, cracked the ground and scared the instructor. So... zero points for you."
"Wait, what?!" Xerxez blinked. "I didn't even know we had a challenge! And besides, maybe you're just jealous that my spirit energy is way stronger than yours."
"Jealous?!" Zenny's brows shot up, her hands balling into fists. "Ha! As if! You wish! Starting today, we're rivals — that's right, rivals! You said you're smart, right? Strong too? Then prove it. From now on, every lesson, every test — I'll beat you fair and square."
Before Xerxez could respond, a familiar voice echoed across the yard.
"Hey!!! What's going on here?!"
Matheros jogged over, waving his hands. His eyes darted between the two of them, confusion spreading across his face. "Opponent? Rival? Who's this girl? Wait— don't tell me... is she your girlfriend?!"
"GIRLFRIEND?!" Zenny yelped, jumping back like a startled cat. "WHAT did you just say?!"
Xerxez's face turned red as he flailed his arms. "No! No! She's not— she's not my girlfriend!"
Zenny pointed at him sharply. "Tell him what we really are!"
"Okay, okay!" Xerxez shouted, stepping back. "She's not my girlfriend — she's my freaky, loud-mouthed opponent! A rival!"
Zenny huffed, flipping her hair. "Exactly!"
Matheros blinked, then grinned mischievously. "Heh. Rival, huh? Sounds a lot like denial to me."
"Shut it, Matheros!" the two barked in unison — then glared at each other again.
The last streaks of sunset were fading, turning the sky to deep violet as the training ground began to quiet. Xerxez and Zenny still traded sharp looks, their earlier banter not yet cooled, when a shadow stretched across the ground beside them.
"Ahem."
The voice cut through the air, smooth but edged like a blade. "So you're the prince of Thallerion, huh? No wonder a kid like you struts around bragging to his friends."
Xerxez turned sharply, brow furrowing. "Who are you?"
Before the stranger could answer, Matheros stepped forward protectively, shifting his stance between Xerxez and the newcomer. "Hey, wait—I know you. You're that guy from the fire faction."
The boy crossed his arms, his eyes glowing faintly with ember light beneath his lashes. "Evenneor Faidenthor. Remember the name."
"Oh, I do!" Matheros grinned. "I saw you during the element testing—you blasted through that flame trial like it was nothing! You were really awesome!"
"Awesome?" Zenny scoffed, tossing her hair back. "More like arrogant. I heard he nearly scorched half the training marks. He's ill-tempered."
Evenneor's gaze snapped toward her, a smirk curling on his lips. "Zenny Myrtle McGuirre—daughter of the great wind-hunter clan, right? Always boasting about her bloodline." His tone dripped with mockery. "Funny. You talk a lot about heritage for someone hiding behind her family name. Trying to earn praise through them instead of your own strength?"
Zenny's fists clenched, her green aura flickering like restless leaves caught in a storm. "Shut up, you fire-headed weirdo! You don't know anything about me!"
A faint ripple of heat rose from Evenneor's palms as his temper matched hers, embers flaring between his fingers. "Then prove it. Right here, right now."
"Hey! Stop!" Xerxez jumped between them, arms spread wide. "You two are acting like children!"
"We are children!" Zenny shot back, glaring past him. "And this one's about to get burned!"
Evenneor's smirk widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "You talk big, leaf girl. Let's see if you can handle the heat."
"Enough!" Xerxez barked, his voice sharper this time, a faint crackle of energy snapping around his fingers. "This isn't the arena! You want to fight, do it during proper training—not like this."
For a heartbeat, the air between them shimmered — fire and wood, heat and moss, clashing like rival spirits. Matheros glanced between the three nervously. "Uh… maybe we should all just chill before one of you blows up the whole ground again."
Zenny huffed, lowering her hands but not her glare. "Fine. But this isn't over, fireboy."
Evenneor folded his arms, his smirk cooling into calm defiance. "Didn't expect it to be."
Master Caldier's shadow loomed long across the training yard as he approached, his robes rippling faintly with the breeze. His expression carried both weight and worry — he had sensed the flare of unstable energy before it could erupt.
"Enough, you two!" His voice thundered, and the faint flickers of fire and wind immediately stilled in the air. His eyes settled sharply on Evenneor first, then Zenny. "You are both potential hunters — not reckless fledglings throwing tantrums. A hunter who cannot restrain their flame will only burn themselves in the wild."
Zenny lowered her gaze, her green aura dimming. Evenneor's fists unclenched, though he gave a stubborn tilt of his chin.
Matheros, exhaling with relief, stepped forward. "Master Caldier, you came at the right time! We thought they were going to kill each other!"
"I could do that!" Evenneor blurted, glaring sidelong at Zenny.
Caldier's eyes hardened. "Enough, my son!"
Evenneor froze, his jaw tightening. "…Yes, Father."
The group blinked, realization dawning like sunlight through cloud.
"He's your son?" Xerxez asked, eyes widening. "Wow… no wonder he's so skilled!"
Zenny crossed her arms with a huff, scowling. "Skilled or not, that attitude's still irritating."
Evenneor gave a small, teasing smirk. "Guess talent runs in the family."
Zenny shot him a glare sharp enough to cut air, and Xerxez quickly raised both hands between them. "Okay, okay! Let's not start round two!"
Caldier sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You children… tomorrow's training will be stricter. If you can't temper your hearts, your strength will devour you before the battlefield ever does."
The warning hung heavy, but his tone softened as he turned to leave. "Now go — supper's waiting, and you'll need your energy. Tomorrow, you'll see what true control means."
Evenneor and Zenny exchanged one last stubborn glance before walking off in opposite directions, and Xerxez and Matheros shared a knowing look.
"Guess we're in for a long week," Matheros whispered.
Xerxez sighed. "Longer, if those two keep acting like sparks in dry grass."
As the two boys made their way along the dimly lit path toward their cottage, the golden hues of the setting sun filtered through the trees, casting long, soft shadows across the stone walkway. The air carried a faint scent of ash and herbs from the nearby fire faction camp, where the last embers of practice still smoldered. Just as they turned the corner, a tall figure stepped into their path — cloaked in a fine yet travel-worn tunic, his shoulders squared but his face weary.
It was none other than Leader Alexunther, his aura calm but visibly drained. His usually sharp gaze seemed dulled by exhaustion, as though the weight of endless thoughts pressed upon him.
"Father!" Matheros exclaimed, hurrying forward. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you all day! No one in the faction had seen you."
Alexunther gave a slow, tired smile, brushing a bit of dust from his sleeves. "We began our senior training today, my son. The elders instructed us to meditate in the temple for long hours — from dawn until twilight. It was... demanding." He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. "We sat like monks, breathing, emptying our minds. You'd think doing nothing would be easy, but it was harder than lifting a sword."
Xerxez, who stood slightly behind Matheros, tilted his head. "How's your meditation going, Uncle Alexunther?" he asked, his tone curious but polite.
Alexunther sighed, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "To be honest, young prince, it feels like walking in circles in the fog. We're told it will open something inside us — a gate of energy, a deeper awareness — but so far, I feel only the ache in my legs and the weight of silence pressing on my head."
Matheros frowned slightly. "That sounds... boring, Father. Did anyone even see anything? A vision, or at least a flicker of light?"
Alexunther gave him a faint smile. "No visions, no flickers. Only the sound of our breaths, and the pulse of the earth beneath our feet. Yet, the High Elder said patience is the true key. When the heart stops struggling, the spirit reveals its flame. Perhaps, it's not about what we see, but what we endure."
Xerxez nodded quietly, absorbing the words. The moonlight brushed the side of his face, and for a moment, his mind wandered — Was that how I would awaken mine, too? By waiting, not fighting?
Seeing the thoughtful look on the young prince's face, Alexunther placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You'll understand soon enough. The bond between your shard and your spirit won't come from anger or rush. It takes stillness... and faith."
Matheros yawned lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Still, Father, maybe the temple training isn't for everyone. I'd rather swing my blade than sit cross-legged all day."
Alexunther chuckled softly. "Ah, you sound just like me when I was your age. But don't underestimate silence, my boy — it tempers the soul better than any blade."
He stepped aside, gesturing toward their cottage, where faint light flickered through the windows. "Now go, both of you. Eat and rest. Tomorrow will be another long day — and the factions will start testing your limits."
As they passed him, Xerxez glanced back one last time. Alexunther stood under the pale glow of the evening torchlight, eyes half-closed as if still caught between the world of thoughts and the weight of unseen visions. For the first time, Xerxez realized — even warriors like Alexunther carried battles no one could see.