Dawn broke with a soft amber glow that spilled across the northern plateau. Mist clung stubbornly to the jagged cliffs, curling around the stone like living smoke. Ethan Sixx moved steadily along the narrow paths, the rhythm of his steps matched to the subtle vibrations of the earth beneath him. The crystal fragment in his pocket pulsed faintly, a soft warmth reminding him that the mountain was more than mere stone—it was alive, aware, and patient.
Kael Veylan followed, maintaining a careful distance. He had long since stopped trying to dissuade Ethan from exploring the cliffs. No cautionary words would deter him, and Kael had learned to simply watch, to measure the boy's instinct, precision, and patience.
"You know," Kael muttered, his voice low, "I don't understand why the mountain favors you. Even the elders—"
Ethan cut him off gently, not turning. "The mountain does not favor anyone, Kael. It only responds to those who listen."
Kael scowled. "Listening isn't going to save you if the cliffs decide to swallow you whole."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it is only testing whether I am worthy of its attention."
Kael said nothing more, though his eyes betrayed a mixture of curiosity and unease.
They reached the far edge of the plateau, where the stone fell sharply into a swirling mist below. The wind howled softly through the gaps in the cliffs, carrying the scents of frost, pine, and something faintly metallic that neither of them could identify.
Ethan crouched, placing a hand against the jagged surface. The crystal fragment pulsed stronger, resonating in rhythm with the faint vibrations of the earth. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his awareness extend, feeling the subtle currents beneath the stone, the whispers of wind, and the faint pulse of hidden energies.
Kael shifted uneasily. "You really think that thing is harmless?"
Ethan did not answer immediately. His senses had detected a subtle shift—a vibration in the plateau that spoke of something older and more deliberate than the natural mountain. "Harmless or not," he said at last, "it is watching. And so must I."
As they continued, a sudden tremor ran through the stone beneath their feet. Ethan's hand went instinctively to the crystal fragment, feeling its warmth spike in response. The mist swirled more aggressively, and Kael instinctively braced himself.
From the fog emerged a figure, cloaked in shifting shadows. It moved with unnatural grace, silent as the wind, yet its presence pressed heavily against the senses, filling the air with tension.
Kael stepped in front of Ethan, energy blade igniting in a soft blue glow. "Who—what—are you?"
The figure did not answer. Its eyes, faintly glowing, were locked on Ethan, unblinking and patient. The mountain seemed to hold its breath.
Ethan, despite the tension, remained calm. Something about the figure felt familiar, not in memory, but in resonance. He could feel a quiet pulse, a rhythm that matched the crystal fragment. Whatever this was, it recognized him—or at least sensed the stirrings of something within him.
The figure moved suddenly, fast as a gust of wind. Kael swung his blade, but the figure vanished into the mist, reappearing behind them in an instant. Ethan reacted instinctively, stepping to the side, letting the rhythm of the plateau guide him. The stones beneath his feet shifted subtly, almost as if acknowledging his movement, allowing him to maintain balance with minimal effort.
Kael looked on, eyes wide. "How… how did you—?"
Ethan's lips curved faintly. "The mountain teaches," he said simply.
The figure did not attack further. It watched for a long moment, then retreated silently into the mist, leaving only the faintest trace of glowing red light behind. The wind carried a whisper, unintelligible yet resonant, a sound that seemed older than the mountains themselves.
Kael shook his head in disbelief. "I've trained for years, yet I can't even sense its presence. And you—you react as though it were a gentle breeze."
Ethan only smiled faintly. "Patience and attention are often stronger than strength."
By the time they returned to the Iron Mountain Sect, dusk had painted the courtyard in muted golds and purples. Other disciples whispered as Ethan passed, careful not to be overheard by the elders. Stories of his strange affinity for the plateau, the red shimmer in the fissures, and the way the wind seemed to obey him had already begun to spread.
Master Korrath observed silently from his high chair, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. Something unusual had awakened in Ethan, though the boy himself had yet to understand its full significance.
Ethan returned to his quarters, sitting quietly beside the crystal fragment. Its faint pulse matched the rhythm of his heartbeat. Outside, the wind carried whispers from the cliffs and fissures, subtle hints of forces hidden in the northern plateau, waiting, watching, patient.
For now, his Mortal Body remained unbroken, his abilities still grounded in natural skill and instinct. Yet he felt the stirrings of something deeper, something ancient, observing him from beyond the cliffs and beyond the world as he knew it.
And in the quiet of the night, beneath the gaze of the misted peaks, a scarlet shimmer pulsed in the distance—a promise that the path ahead would demand more than skill, patience, or courage. It would demand awakening.