Chapter 8:First step forward

The last of the sunlight filtered through the crystalline windows of the Academy as students began to disperse. The Harmony Assessment was over. Twelve had been chosen, paths had been set, and the Academy would never feel the same again.

Guren Von Duran stood quietly by the frost-etched insignia of the Frozen Blade Sect, its chill still tingling in his fingertips.

Not far off, Scott Kawski grinning as usual gave him a casual salute.

"Guess we're on different roads now, eh?" Scott said, hands behind his head.

Guren nodded. "Looks that way."

Scott's gaze flickered something thoughtful behind the ever-carefree eyes.

"Don't freeze your ears off. I hear they don't grow back."

"And don't burn your eyebrows off," Guren shot back with a rare smirk.

The two walked separate directions. Neither looked back.

**,

Home – Dusk in Nivareth

The darkstone pathways of Nivareth, the sprawling capital of the Dark Elves, wound beneath the glowing canopy trees, casting gentle glimmers of light against the sky. Guren's home sat nestled on one of the terraced hills, modest yet well-kept.

The scent of stew filled the house as he stepped inside. His little brother Adam, all four years of boundless energy, immediately ran to greet him.

"Guren! Guren! Did you fight anyone today?!"

"Only the air," Guren chuckled, lifting the boy briefly.

His mother, Ellisa Von Duran, turned from the hearth, her soft brown skin glowing in the firelight, eyes bright with quiet pride. She didn't ask she already knew.

"You were chosen."

"Yes. For the Frozen Blade Sect."

A pause. Then she smiled. "I always thought you'd follow the wind up the mountain someday."

His little sister, Mirra, peeked from behind the doorway, clutching her doll.

"Are you leaving forever?"

"No," Guren said, kneeling beside her. "Just long enough to come back stronger."

From across the room, a familiar coldness settled in.

Brent, his stepfather, sat with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. The speaker in the Elven governance nodded stiffly.

"Frozen Blade," Brent said, as though tasting the words. "Takes more stubbornness than talent to last there."

Guren met his gaze but said nothing. His mother intervened with a raised eyebrow, and Brent said no more.

That night, Guren packed his things. Just the essentials: a well-worn satchel, a scarf his sister had sewn for him, and a small carved pendant from his mother. His scythe-shaped pendant.

When morning came, the winds were colder than usual.

He didn't wait long at the Academy gates.

***

Academy Courtyard – Departure

A lone figure stood in the white stone courtyard, arms folded, cloaked in steel-blue robes trimmed with frost-silver.

Instructor Vanna Ryze.

Her silver hair was bound into a tight braid. Her eyes were like still lakes frozen under pressure. She looked at Guren not as a boy but as someone who had made a decision.

"You're punctual. Good. I hate waiting."

She turned and motioned without a word.

"Let's move. The path to the mountain is long, and the trials are waiting."

The Frozen Blade Sect wasn't nestled in nature or built beside rivers it clung to the cold cliffs of Mount Ryvain, a mountain so tall its peak vanished in mist most of the year. The buildings were dark stone, open air, designed not for comfort but for resilience.

The sect wasn't about ceremony. It was about discipline.

"We teach the mind to still, the body to sharpen, and the Qi to obey," Instructor Vanna said, leading the new initiates through the northern stair.

Only four had chosen the sect: Guren, Naomi Sterling, Elias Rowe, and a high elf named Hina Fujioka, whose silver blue eyes never wavered from Vanna's movements.

Each student was assigned their own quartersbare, cold rooms carved from stone, with only a cot and a meditation slab. There were no windows.

Guren laid down his bag and exhaled. Alone in the silence, he touched the slab, cool and humming faintly with frozen Qi.

"Let's see what you're really made of."

***

Morning Training – Steel and Stamina

Before the sun crested the peaks, a horn echoed across the sect.

Guren was already up, having slept lightly.

The courtyard was lined with rows of older disciples silent, unmoving, standing bare chested as snow fell around them. None of them reacted to the cold. None of them blinked.

"We are the steel in the storm," Vanna announced. "You will hold your first position for one hour. Break stance, and you begin again. No Qi. No exceptions."

They began.

Guren assumed the blade-holding form they had been taught legs bent, arms extended, palms flat as if holding an invisible sword. The cold bit through his sleeves, his boots, into his spine.

Vivian lasted thirty-five minutes before collapsing.

Naomi broke at twenty-six.

Elias Rowe didn't even make it fifteen his Qi senses were sharper than most, but his body lacked tempering.

Guren was the only one left standing at the hour mark, body trembling, face pale, but eyes locked forward.

Instructor Vanna finally spoke.

"You are not the strongest. But you are stubborn. That will do."

***

Meanwhile – Dawnfire Sect

Far below in the valley, Scott Kawski leaned back on a floating platform made of fire and air.

Instructor Mira Matthew stared at him, unimpressed.

"Mr. Kawski, this is not a hammock. This is a Qi formation field."

Scott stretched. "I'm multitasking. Learning by osmosis. I absorb knowledge better when horizontal."

Mira sighed. But later, when she tested their ability to weave low-tier Qi patterns, Scott's construct was cleaner than most advanced students'.

The others whispered.

"I thought he was lazy…"

"His pattern structure is perfect."

Scott caught Guren's name once in passing and paused briefly. Not to gloat. Not to compare.

Just to wonder.

"I wonder if he's freezing his ears off up there."

***

Frozen Blade – The Breath of Stillness

On the third night, the students were introduced to Breath of Stillness, the foundational Qi breathing technique of the Frozen Blade Sect.

It wasn't about channeling Qi yet but about controlling the breath, the body, and the heart rate under stress. Guren took to it better than expected. His natural control, his endurance from years of surviving in silence, let him sink into the cold breath with ease.

Vanna watched in silence as the others struggled to keep rhythm while Guren settled into stillness, frost blooming around him naturally.

"You were meant for winter," she murmured, so low no one else heard.

***

The Week Ends

Seven days passed.

Naomi had begun to keep up. Elias had grown quieter, but more focused. Hina, bruised and scraped.

Instructor Vanna gathered them at the cliffside on the seventh morning.

"Next week, we begin real cultivation. You've tempered your shells. Now you'll forge your blades."

Her gaze passed over them all, but landed on Guren last.

"We'll see which of you has steel beneath your breath. And which of you only thinks you do."

To be Continued.