Will of Wood

The crystal chime of the morning bell rang three times — gentle but insistent, like a polite knock that wouldn't stop until you opened your door. Ironroot 1A drifted into homeroom in loose clumps, still blinking sleep from their eyes and brushing chalk grit from the hems of their tunics.

The old rune-etched windows were cracked open, letting in the smell of damp stone and fresh leaves. The air carried a coolness that stuck to the skin. The Ironroot boys took their usual spot on the back row, letting the chatter wash around them. Kaiden could still feel the Vein's hush lingering behind his ribs — like yesterday's roots had followed him into daylight.

Mrs. Maiven waited by the runeboard, pale hair braided up like coiled rope, arms folded beneath her shawl. She let the door thud shut behind the last straggler — Rio, who stumbled in with one boot half-laced, hair still damp from a hasty wash.

[ Vonn ]

"Hey, Rio."

"Cat eat your alarm clock?"

[ Rell ]

"Haha…"

"Where were you?"

"Still dreaming you're back in that run-down port town of yours?"

[ Rio ]

"Nah…"

"I was at your mom's house."

A ripple of giggles rolled across the rows. Even Irna cracked a brief smile before tucking it away. Mrs. Maiven let the laughter run its course, then cut through it with a voice soft as snow.

[ Mrs. Maiven ]

"Settle down, children."

"Mr. Brentt, try to be early…"

"Next time."

[ Rio ]

"Sorry, Mrs. Maiven."

"But I had to make a quick detour to the…"

"Loo."

She lifted a piece of rune chalk — thin enough to snap if you breathed too hard. The chalk hissed against the runeboard before she flicked her wrist, and a single sigil bloomed in the air: a stylized sword crossed over a round shield. Its outline glowed faintly, like moonlight caught in water.

[ Mrs. Maiven ]

"Alright, children…"

"Today, we begin with the basics of combat."

The effect was immediate. Rio straightened so fast he smacked Nerim's nose with his elbow. Irna's eyes went wide, her hand drifting to the little pouch of chalk stubs she still carried from the Vein. Peggy just crossed her arms — but even she leaned forward an inch, shadow falling over her desk.

[ Rio ]

"Combat?!"

"Do we get real swords?!"

"Pegs — you can use an axe, right?"

"Or was it a warhammer I saw back on Ascension Day!"

"A huge one!"

[ Peggy ]

"I'm not using an axe, genius…"

"And you're not touching anything sharp if you can't stop hitting people by accident."

Nerim dabbed at his nose with the corner of his sleeve.

[ Nerim ]

"Are we…"

"Fighting each other?"

[ Rell ]

"I am definitely fighting you, Rio!"

[ Rio ]

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Come at me, momma's boy."

Mrs. Maiven let the ripples of chatter die on their own. She waited, calm as stone, then tapped the glowing sword sigil with her chalk.

[ Mrs. Maiven ]

"You will spar — when you're ready."

"And not with issued arms."

"This is not your guild's training ground."

"This is the Academy."

"Either we all do it together…"

"Or not at all."

She let the hush settle — like dust over old stone, patient and final.

[ Mrs. Maiven ]

"Now… all of you will return to your dorms."

"Choose your own weapon."

"Not what you wish you were using."

"Not what you think will impress your guild."

"But the one that feels yours."

A rustle of confusion swept through the benches. Rio tilted his head so far he nearly toppled off.

[ Rio (groan) ]

"Dang…"

"I have no idea what I should use."

[ Nerim ]

"Choose?"

"Like…"

"Any weapon?"

"I think I already know mine."

Mrs. Maiven's lips twitched — the smallest crack in her river-stone calm.

[ Mrs. Maiven ]

"A weapon you can carry without shame."

"Something you'd wish for when danger comes."

"Something you can trust."

She tapped the rune one last time, the chalk squeaking faintly.

"Meet me and Instructor Veronika on the south sparring field."

"Thirty minutes."

"Not a tick more."

"If you're late…"

"You'll swing sticks for a month instead."

The kids jolted up like startled birds.

◈◈◈

Their footsteps echoed down the corridor like a miniature charge of clumsy knights. The Ironroot boys thundered into the dorm wing, boots squeaking on the old oaken floors. Doors slammed, drawers rattled, voices rose and fell like crows on a fence.

Kaiden didn't rush. He could feel the Vein's hush settle deeper as he opened his closet. His cloak swayed as he lifted it off the hook. There, in the fold of his spare tunic, lay the wooden dagger, wrapped in old oil cloth — the cloth so thin in places it had begun to fray.

He unwrapped it, ran his thumb along its carved edge. Pale wood, smooth from drills with Nik. No metal, no edge that could split stone — yet it weighed heavier than steel.

"Wood remembers what steel forgets." Nik's voice, worn into the grain. Kaiden tucked the blade into his belt sash, hidden beneath his tunic, feeling the hush in his chest pulse steadily.

[ Rio ]

"Hey, Kaid."

"You think I can use this as a weapon?"

Kaiden turned. Rio stood there, holding up a battered fishing spear, its shaft patched with twine.

[ Kaiden ]

"You use it a lot?"

[ Rio ]

"You bet!"

"You're looking at the best spear fisher of Canford Port."

"Six-year-old category."

Kaiden cracked a tiny grin.

[ Kaiden ]

"Then it's perfect."

Nerim ducked under his bunk and dragged out a small miner's pick, the handle worn smooth by a child's grip.

[ Nerim ]

"I guess there's no question about mine."

"I practically swung this before I could walk."

[ Rio ]

"What about you, Kaid?"

Kaiden drew the wooden dagger halfway from his belt, just enough for them to see the grain, the old runes burned faintly near the hilt.

[ Nerim ]

"Is that…"

"A toy dagger?"

[ Rio ]

"You sure, Kaid?"

Kaiden's eyes didn't waver.

[ Kaiden ]

"It's a family heirloom."

They fell silent a moment, the hush breathing between them.

[ Rio ]

"Then we're all set."

[ Nerim ]

"Come on."

"Thirty minutes."

"I don't wanna be late… again."

[ Kaiden ]

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

◈◈◈

The dorm wing vibrated with boots and floorboards. Some doors slammed, others hung ajar, kids leaning out to peek at the weapons chosen.

Rio twirled his fishing spear in the narrow hall, nearly catching Nerim's shoulder.

[ Nerim ]

"Careful, Rio!"

"You'll gut someone before we even start."

[ Rio ]

"It's not sharp, Rimmy."

"It's all about the poke."

Peggy emerged from the girls' dorm, balancing a hammer across her shoulder. Its handle was wrapped in leather, worn dark with sweat and years of use.

[ Kaiden ]

"That's new."

Peggy gave a short huff, shifting the hammer's weight.

[ Peggy ]

"This is my hammer."

"Her name's Ragna."

"Before my mom joined the Academy, it was hers."

"Never broke. Never will."

Kaiden watched the way her fingers flexed around the grip.

[ Kaiden ]

"Never say never, Pegs."

Peggy smirked. Irna stepped out last, hugging a long, slim case to her chest like a precious bundle. She sank to her knees right there, snapping it open on the floorboards. Inside lay the pale guzheng, strings thin as threads of moonlight.

[ Rio ]

"That's not a weapon."

"That's a… harp?"

Irna's eyes flicked up, calm but sharp.

[ Irna ]

"It's called a guzheng."

"My grandmother's."

"She said if you can tune strings tight enough to sing…"

"Then you can tune them tight enough to cut."

"I'm not fighting with it."

"But it always made me feel safe."

Peggy squatted, big shoulders hunched, peering close.

[ Peggy ]

"Those strings…"

"They'd slice you if you plucked wrong?"

Irna nodded, brushing a fingertip over one.

[ Irna ]

"And they carry sound."

"If something comes, it'll hum before it sees me."

Kaiden felt the hush settle deep again, the same hush that lived in old wood, oil cloth, chalk runes — the Will of Wood.

[ Nerim ]

"See?"

"We're not the only ones bringing family ghosts to the field."

[ Rio ]

"I still think it's cheating."

"Your weapon plays songs."

[ Irna ]

"Your spear still smells…"

"Like dead fish."

[ Peggy ]

"Haha."

"A little Rio's rubbing off on you, Irna."

[ Rio (giggle) ]

"You broke my heart, Irna."

"Haha…"

[ Irna ]

"Tee, hee..."

Kaiden rolled his thumb over the hilt again, feeling Nik's dry chuckle echo: "Sometimes, the best edge is the one they never see coming."

◈◈◈

The south sparring field breathed with the hush of early sun — pale light catching on rune poles set in a wide circle, their veins pulsing faintly with stored æsther. The whole class gathered at the boundary, forming small islands of chatter: Ironroot's sturdy knot near the back, Dawnseekers lined in disciplined rows with polished polearms and old hunting weapons, Skyward Arcanum initiates perched on crates comparing staves and chain-bound grimoires, Seraphin Blades stretching in neat lines, short swords and bucklers strapped tight to their forearms.

Kaiden felt Ironroot's pulse beside him: Rio spinning his brine-scarred fishing spear, Nerim's miner's pick propped against his shoulder, Peggy's hammer Ragna slung across her back, Irna crouched with her guzheng case pressed to her knees like a quiet secret. But when he looked beyond, he saw the same hush mirrored in every circle of eyes — the same raw breath before a swing that might matter.

Instructor Veronika — Seraphin's own — stood at the circle's center, sleeveless coat dark against the dawn, her sword at her hip, and a thin practice staff balanced across her shoulders. The Seraphin badge glinted at her collar — crossed blades crowned with hawthorn. Her eyes swept the whole assembly, not pausing longer on Ironroot or Arcanum or Dawnseeker or Seraphin — just weighing, measuring, the way a blade checks its own edge.

[ Instructor Veronika ]

"Academy hopefuls."

"All of you..."

"Doesn't matter if you wear Ironroot green, Dawnseeker blue, Skyward grey, or the Blades red — here, your HEART stands alone."

The rune poles flickered in answer, threads of stored æsther humming faintly. Some kids touched their Ki Cards for comfort — the small crystalline shards pulsing once, glyphs blooming like ghostly numbers before winking out. Kaiden kept his in his pocket. He knew its silence by heart.

"Good."

"Now..."

"Show me what you carry."

The circle rippled like startled grass. One by one, the students stepped forward, lifting what they'd dragged from bunks and trunks and old trunks hidden under spare blankets:

A Skyward girl stepped out first — sleeves inked with flickering sigils — her bow mythical, the handle wrapped in fine leather.

[ Dessie ]

"Sagitan, the Impaler."

"Been in my line three generations."

Beside her, a Dawnseeker girl swung a crescent moon glaive, edge notched from decades of drills. The Dawnseeker crest was carved deep into her bracers.

[ Karen ]

"My aunt's."

"Old, but it cuts."

A Seraphin Blade boy planted twin short swords tip-down in the grass, hilts carved with hawthorn leaves, the edges catching first light.

[ Mirkos ]

"Twins."

"Always twins."

A Skyward initiate hoisted a thick leather-bound grimoire, chained at the spine to a dagger's hilt — the book's cover marred with scorch marks.

[ Nari ]

"Binding spellbook."

"Doubles as a flail."

"If you swing it right."

Near them, Vonn — Dawnseeker's brashest voice — hefted his battered orchard sickle lashed to a gnarled branch, rope wound tight around the grip.

[ Vonn ]

"Granddad's."

"Said I'd know when to swing it for real."

Kaiden unsheathed his wooden dagger, pale and plain but warm in his palm. Irna lifted her guzheng case, laying her hand flat on the strings within — a hush that pulsed like the Vein itself.

Veronika circled, her staff tapping the earth, her eyes tracing each blade, each stave, each thing that might cut or crush or carry. She crouched, drawing four shapes in the dirt: a blade's edge, a spear's point, a hammer's block, a swirling knot that folded inward.

[ Instructor Veronika ]

"Listen well."

"All weapons — doesn't matter how bright, how battered, or how strange — fall into four paths."

She pointed with her staff tip:

"Slash — the edge that cleaves."

"Pierce — the point that finds the gap."

"Bludgeon — the weight that breaks shields and bones alike."

"And Unconventional — the road that folds them all together."

Nari rattled her chain-dagger with a grin. Irna plucked a string on her guzheng — the note shivered the rune poles like a pulse under skin.

"Unconventional isn't just odd."

"It's the path of Manifestation."

"Traits that sleep may wake when you wield what no one else would dare."

"Your strings might one day cut æsther like arrows."

"Your orchard sickle might reap things that a clean blade cannot touch."

She tapped her own chest with the staff's blunt end — then struck the center sigil hard enough to send a hush through the poles. A subtle æsther ripple pulsed outward. Kaiden felt his Ki Card hum in his pocket — the Codex recording every heartbeat, every hidden vow.

"Doesn't matter if your stat glows bright or dull."

"This is the Heavenreach Academy."

"Here, your heart carries the swing."

Rio winked at Nerim, spinning his spear.

[ Rio ]

"Pierce."

"Fish Division."

"Haha..."

Peggy hefted Ragna, her hammer's scarred handle dark in the dawn.

[ Peggy ]

"Bludgeon."

Irna closed her eyes, one thumb grazing a string.

[ Irna ]

"Unconventional."

"If it lets me sing."

A Skyward boy lifted his staff-lens high, light bending through the glass.

[ Derin ]

"Slash and Pierce."

"Æsther cuts if you bend it right."

Vonn planted his orchard sickle blade-first in the dirt, showing it off to Rio.

[ Vonn ]

"Slash — maybe something more."

Veronika's grin was neither cruel nor gentle — just honest.

[ * Kaiden * ]

"Guess mine's a stabbing weapon."

"Piercing..."

"Or is it slashing?"

[ Instructor Veronika ]

"Good. Form now on..."

"Doesn't matter your badge."

"Doesn't matter your stat."

"Only matters if you can carry it — without letting it carry you."

She spun her staff once, resting it behind her shoulders like a balance beam across her back.

"First exercise begins tomorrow."

"Target dummies."

"Until then — know your edge."

"Feel its weight."

"And remember — the System does not measure the steel in your hand…"

She paused — eyes sweeping across Dawnseeker's sickle, Ironroot's wood, Skyward's grimoire, Seraphin's twin blades.

"… it measures the swing you dare take."

Kaiden pressed his thumb to the carved hilt. In that hush under his chest, Voidspace coiled like roots seeking stone.

One swing. One grain.

A thousand swings.

A mountain.

He would remember.