The northern plateau was alive with the quiet hum of dawn. Mist wound through jagged stones like restless spirits, and the pale light of morning brushed the cliffs in muted gold. Ethan Sixx moved along the narrow paths with deliberate care, each step measured, each breath drawn in harmony with the wind and the stone beneath him.
The crystal fragment, tucked safely in the pocket of his tunic, pulsed faintly with warmth, a subtle reminder that he was no longer alone in his training. Its energy was quiet yet insistent, weaving through his senses, urging him forward, urging him to listen.
Kael Veylan followed closely behind, his eyes scanning the treacherous terrain with practiced caution. He had long since ceased trying to discourage Ethan; it was clear that no warning, no admonition, would bend the boy's stubborn will. Instead, Kael's focus was now on observation—on measuring the boy's instinct, his speed, and the subtle ways he moved with the mountain itself.
"Do you really trust this place so much?" Kael muttered under his breath. "One wrong step, and it will claim you. You may be fast, but you are not untouchable."
Ethan's gaze remained forward, calm and unwavering. "The mountain does not touch those who respect it," he replied softly. "It only teaches. And sometimes, the lesson is harder than any strike or fall."
Kael's lips pressed into a thin line. He had always trained under rules, under structure, under the careful guidance of elders. Ethan, however, seemed to follow a different rhythm—one dictated by instinct, perception, and something Kael could not name.
The two reached a narrow ridge where jagged rocks split the plateau in jagged lines. A misstep here would send a body tumbling into the abyss below. Ethan crouched instinctively, placing his hands lightly against the cold stone to gauge its texture, its vibration, its subtle shifts under the wind.
Kael followed suit, though less attuned. The boy moved with a fluidity that seemed preternatural—balancing, sensing, and reacting to the smallest changes in the terrain. A loose pebble skidded beneath Kael's foot, causing him to stumble slightly. Ethan reached out instinctively, not touching Kael, but shifting his own balance in a subtle counterweight that stabilized the ridge for both of them.
Kael froze, eyes wide. "How…?"
Ethan only shrugged lightly. "It is not me. It is the stone and the wind. I am merely listening."
As they continued along the plateau, the mist thickened, swirling in shapes that seemed almost alive. Ethan paused, feeling the pulse of energy beneath the surface of the stone, a rhythm that resonated faintly with the crystal fragment. Somewhere deep within the cliffs, a hidden force seemed to observe him, subtle and patient.
He reached the familiar fissure, the one that had pulsed with red light before. Today, it shimmered faintly again, as if acknowledging his return. He crouched, examining the crevice carefully. The fragment pulsed, warmer this time, and a faint hum carried through the air.
Kael stepped beside him, voice low. "It's… reacting to you," he said. "I've never seen anything like it."
Ethan did not reply. He extended his senses slightly, brushing against the faint energy. There was no danger—not yet—but a quiet curiosity, a challenge, a test that waited for him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it spoke of a world beyond the cliffs, beyond the sect, a world that would not be tamed easily.
A sudden shadow passed overhead. Ethan looked up just in time to see a hawk swoop down from the misty heights, talons extended, yet it did not strike. Instead, it landed on a narrow ledge, observing him with sharp, intelligent eyes.
Kael glanced at the bird, unsettled. "A bird?" he asked, though his tone betrayed unease.
Ethan's gaze never left the hawk. "Not just a bird," he said softly. "A watcher. Sometimes the smallest eyes see what the largest cannot."
The hawk let out a low cry and took flight, vanishing into the mist. Ethan exhaled slowly, feeling the faint resonance of its presence lingering in the air, as though it had left a part of itself behind.
By the time they returned to the Iron Mountain Sect, the sun had dipped behind the peaks, painting the halls in soft amber. Whispers followed their arrival, hushed murmurs of the boy who moved as if the cliffs themselves obeyed him. Even the elders, seated in the high stone chairs of the main hall, exchanged subtle glances, their expressions unreadable.
Master Korrath watched from the shadows, his eyes sharp and calculating. There was potential in Ethan, yes—but there was also unpredictability. The mountain had begun to awaken something within him, something neither Kael nor the other disciples could fully grasp.
Ethan, unaware of their scrutiny, sat quietly in his room. The crystal fragment pulsed faintly beside him, a constant warmth in the cool night air. Outside, the wind carried the echoes of cliffs, of hidden fissures, and of something far older, observing him.
He did not yet understand the scope of what was stirring, but he felt it—the world shifting around him, ancient forces taking notice, trials waiting silently for the boy who had begun to defy the ordinary.
Ethan closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the mountain, the crystal, and the wind wash over him. His Mortal Body remained unbroken, but the seed of something far greater had been planted. And somewhere deep within the northern plateau, in the hidden shadows of stone and mist, a scarlet shimmer pulsed quietly, acknowledging the boy who was beginning to awaken.