Chapter 3:Veins of FrostSpire

The school gates opened like the maw of some ancient beast, wrought from silversteel and etched with runes older than the FrostVale Alliance itself. They pulsed faintly as if the mountain's heartbeat kept them alive.

FrostSpire Academy wasn't just a school. It was a monument. A forge. A test of will wrapped in prestige and tradition. And it stood at the very center of the Dark Elf region's influence balanced between the chill peaks and the ever-shifting tensions beneath the polished alliances.

Guren Von Duran stood beneath its archway, his hands in his coat pockets, watching nobles and commoners alike funnel through the wide courtyard toward the main towers. From behind him, Scott let out a low whistle.

"Still looks like a fancy prison."

"You mean the kind that makes sure only the powerful get out alive?" Guren smirked.

"Exactly. Designer shackles."

As always, students wore frost-blue uniforms. Some customized theirs subtle enchantments, family crests, or rare thread alterations. Guren's own uniform was simpler, but clean. Polished boots, dark undershirt, fitted jacket his only standout feature was a silver thread embroidered along the cuff. A leftover token from his mother.

The courtyard buzzed with noise.

High Elf and Dark Elf students mingled, though rarely in the same group. No open hostility just the quiet sort of distance shaped by history. High Elves stood straighter, talked louder. Dark Elves moved quieter, but their eyes always watched.

Guren moved through it all like a shadow with purpose.

He wasn't highborn, but he wasn't low either. Just enough to be noticed. Just enough to be overlooked when it mattered.

Until he didn't want to be.

***

Assembly Hall – FrostSpire Main Tower

The hall's interior shimmered with frost-crystal fixtures and vaulted glyphwork running up the walls. Everything glowed with a subtle mana flux the bones of the Academy humming with purpose.

Hundreds of students filled the crescent rows of obsidian benches. On the raised platform, several instructors stood dressed in silver stitched robes. At the center stood the Matron Principal, Lady Stephanie Kross, a high elf with pale gold hair and skin like carved marble.

She was a high elf, yes but one of the few who commanded respect from both sides of the valley. Her presence was sharp, but not cold. Her voice, when she spoke, was commanding without need for volume.

When she spoke, it was as if the wind bent to carry her words.

"It is the start of Year 5060. For some, your final trial before awakening. For others, a test of mind and spirit. Here, you are not your blood. Not your clan. Not your region. Here, you are your ambition. Your discipline. Your path."

Her voice cut through the air like frost through fire.

Her gaze scanned the room, lingering on no one.

"In response to fluctuations in mana distribution and increased spiritual dissonance in our region, this year's curriculum has been adjusted. Cultivation practice will not begin immediately. You must first pass the Harmony Assessment."

A ripple of tension passed through the crowd. Whispers. Even Scott blinked twice.

Lady Kross raised her hand, and the room fell silent.

"The Harmony Assessment is not a punishment. It is a filter. You will not be tested on skill. You will be tested on alignment whether your body, mind, and spirit are prepared to form a cultivation core. Those who fail will be redirected to supportive training until such alignment is achieved."

That landed like a strike.

Guren's eyes narrowed. Cultivation was usually restricted by age, comprehension, or willpower not soul harmony. That was ancient. A test of internal balance, usually reserved for monks or Spirit Root initiates.

Scott clicked his tongue. "This is new."

"You think it's because of the disturbances?"

"Maybe. Or they're trying to force a weed-out phase. Too many nobles failing in later years. Can't have the prestige schools looking weak."

Scott leaned over and whispered, "Guess my dream of being an unbalanced wreck might finally pay off."

"Not how that works," Guren muttered.

"Still betting you pass it first try."

"You just don't want to go alone."

Scott winked. "Correct."

***

[Class 3A]

Instructors divided them into specialty groups :Spirit Theory, Combat Application, Runescript Analysis, and more. Guren's class leaned heavier into Foundations of Cultivation, though no one had begun yet.

The classroom was circular, with layered benches and a crystalline dome that let in pale mountain light. Their instructor, Mistress Kim Jones, wore robes too practical to be elegant and eyes too sharp to be fooled.

She wrote across the blackstone board using a glowing silver rune stylus.

"Cultivation is not willpower alone," she said, not turning from the board. "It is a synchronization of body,breath and intent. It is a cycle."

"Without Harmony you do not open a path you open a wound"

Mistress Jones turned, looking over the group with a blank expression.

"We will begin theory for now. You'll cover spiritual resonance, qi conductivity, and core imaging over the next six weeks. During that time, you'll also complete your internal profile tests for the Harmony Assessment. Results will be private. Outcomes will be final."

Someone from the back probably a noble raised a hand. "What happens if someone fails?"

Mistress Jones tilted her head slightly. "Then they fail. You do not cultivate half-balanced. You wait. Or you break."

The answer was simple. Cold. But fair.

Guren respected that.

Scott, however, had slouched into a nap posture that could've passed for deep meditation if you squinted.

The lesson drifted into Qi theory, spiritual channels, and personal resonance terms most students only vaguely understood.

Scott doodled a cat with a halo in his notes.

Guren, though, was focused. Every word etched itself into him. He didn't know why, but something in the idea of harmony stirred his bones.

***

Outside – Lunch Bell

Guren and Scott sat near the upper terrace of the west wing, overlooking the drop into the forest valleys below. Trees swayed like living clouds of frost-laced breath. The sun struggled through the mist.

Scott poked at his food. "So... you gonna do the Harmony Assessment?"

Guren chewed thoughtfully. "Yeah."

"You think you'll pass?"

"…No idea."

Scott shrugged. "You're ambitious. That counts for something. And you're smart."

Guren smiled at that. "You don't say that often."

"I lie less when I'm tired."

Scott leaned back. "I'll take the assessment too. Just to see what's in there. Maybe I'll finally break my genius streak."

"You say that like it's a curse."

"It kinda is."

Guren looked away, eyes drawn to the distant cliffside where a lone white flower grew out of the rock wall. Bending in the wind. Rooted in the impossible.

He felt like that flower. Still growing. Out of place. But reaching.

He didn't know what path would awaken in him. He didn't know if he could pass whatever test they threw his way.

But what he did know was this:

He would never stop climbing.

Not until he found what waited beyond the stars.

To be Continued.