The morning of their first cultivation session arrived like the rest — sky locked in eternal daylight, air perfectly balanced, nothing ever changing. Ash stood at the edge of the training field with twenty other children, most of them buzzing with excitement.
Tarek stood next to him, bouncing lightly on his heels. "Today's the real deal. We start sensing mana. You nervous?"
Ash tilted his head. "No."
"Of course not. You're like… weirdly calm all the time."
Ash didn't respond. His eyes were focused on the instructor approaching from the far gate — a tall woman in dark red robes lined with glowing threads of runes. Her name was Instructor Seris, and her presence was quiet but commanding, like a blade sheathed in silk.
"Form a circle," she said as she arrived. "Feet shoulder-width apart. Hands relaxed. Eyes closed."
The students obeyed.
Ash moved with the rest, standing still as the field fell silent.
Seris continued. "Today, you begin your first step on the cultivation path — sensing energy. Mana, spirit, law, or element — it all begins by opening yourself to the world."
She walked slowly around them as she spoke.
"Every living being is surrounded by natural forces. You do not pull them in. You do not force them to obey. You must first listen."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Breathe."
Ash obeyed.
His lungs drew in air. His body stilled. The world faded behind closed eyelids.
"Inhale… reach outward," she said. "Exhale… sink inward."
The children did as they were told. Around Ash, he could hear the faint hum of life — the subtle flickers of flame, crackles of wind, droplets of water forming in open palms. A girl gasped as her skin shimmered briefly with golden light. Another boy yelped when his fingers sparked.
Tarek's voice whispered, "I feel something. Like warm threads in the air…"
Ash felt nothing at first.
Only stillness.
Then he exhaled.
And something shifted.
---
A tremor ran through the world.
Not through the earth or sky — but beneath it. Deeper than any stone, deeper than space, deeper than memory.
Ash's breath caught. Not from fear, but recognition.
Something ancient stirred within him. A ripple. A hum. Not bright like the others. Not warm. Not loud.
It was silent.
And cold.
And infinite.
It did not pulse.
It did not flare.
It waited.
A shape floated in his mind's eye — a circle broken by a downward line, wrapped in thorns of black light.
It burned itself into him.
[You have begun to walk the Path.]
[Your inheritance stirs.]
[The Order of Death: Level 0 – Seed Awakened.]
Ash opened his eyes.
The others were still immersed in their focus, sparks and whispers dancing around them. No one seemed to notice.
Except Seris.
Her gaze had snapped to him.
Just for a moment.
Then she turned away.
Ash breathed out again. The thing inside him — the quiet breath beneath the world — receded slightly. Not gone. But resting. Watching.
---
After the session ended, Seris dismissed them with a few parting words.
"Some of you felt warmth. Others light, water, wind, stone. These are the signs of your affinity. If you felt nothing, do not be discouraged. Patience reveals all things."
Most of the children chattered excitedly as they returned to the dorms. Some showed off small sparks in their palms, a drop of flame or a breeze between their fingers.
Tarek grinned. "I think I got wind! Or maybe lightning. Hard to tell. You feel anything?"
Ash nodded. "Yes."
"Cool. What element?"
Ash paused. "It didn't have a name."
Tarek raised a brow. "Ominous. But alright."
---
That night, Ash sat alone in the garden.
He stared at his hand.
No flicker of power, no element danced between his fingers. But he could feel it beneath the skin. A whisper. A pressure. Like something vast held tightly in silence.
He closed his eyes.
Again, the sigil appeared — that same circle, that same downward line. It throbbed inside his soul, quiet but alive. Not a technique yet. Not a power. Just a presence.
He tried to pull it forth.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Then, something stirred.
A whisper:
> "One who walks beneath endings…" "Let the seed know silence." "Let the breath be still."
The energy shifted inside him. Not violently, not with light or crackling force — but with cold stillness.
His palm grew pale. A thin black mark — the broken circle — shimmered faintly, then vanished.
Ash opened his eyes.
Nothing had changed.
And yet, everything had.
---
The next day, during their history lesson, Instructor Halren brought up a new subject.
"Tell me," he said, walking between desks, "what do you know about the early ages of cultivation?"
Hands shot up.
A girl said, "There were constant wars between clans and sects."
A boy added, "People fought over techniques, territory, and elemental control."
"Correct," Halren said. "And what happened when people died back then?"
Silence.
He let it linger.
"Back then," he continued, "people believed in something called Death. Not a delay. Not a process. A final state. An ending from which no return existed."
He turned to write a word on the projection sphere.
> D E A T H
Some students shifted uncomfortably.
Ash's eyes narrowed.
"Over time," Halren said, "we eliminated that concept. Souls were preserved. Bodies rebuilt. Death, as a phenomenon, ceased to exist. And over centuries, it faded from memory."
He glanced at the class.
"There are few records left of what Death was. No images. No proper teachings. It is said that even saying the name once held power. Now… it is an empty echo."
He looked directly at Ash.
Ash met his gaze.
Neither looked away.
Then Halren turned. "That is why we must treasure the Order. It has given us eternity."
---
Later that day, Ash sat alone again.
The wind blew through the artificial trees. The lights dimmed to mimic sunset. The others played or practiced beginner techniques.
Ash remained still.
He was beginning to understand something.
Death hadn't been forbidden.
It had been erased.
Scrubbed from memory. From history. From law.
Not sealed. Not shunned.
Forgotten.
And yet… he remembered.
Or rather, his soul did.
Not names. Not events. But weight. Balance. Truth.
Something important was missing from the world.
And that missing thing…
Was him.