Training

The Training Begins

The first test was silence.

Not meditation.

Not patience.

Silence — deep, consuming, and alive with pressure.

Camilla stood barefoot in the center of the Sanctum, precisely on the narrow divide that split the vast chamber in two — one half cloaked in shimmering silver mist, the other pulsing with slow, hungry flame. She could not move from the line. She could not speak. She could only endure.

The ground beneath her feet pulsed with a life of its own — one side cool and damp like breath on glass, the other dry and hot enough to sting. Her skin flushed from the temperature shifts; her lungs filled with air heavy with magic. Each breath tasted of ash and starlight.

“Stand,” the guardian had said. “Straddle the two truths of your soul. Feel them pull. Feel them clash. But do not be moved by either. This is the beginning.”

Simple words.

Impossible task.

Inside her, the storm had already begun.