The Whispering Glade became Ren's world. For what felt like an eternity, he practiced under the silent watch of the ancient trees. The spirits' voices were his only guide, teaching him to feel the magic of the river not as an external force, but as an extension of his own blood. He would spend hours by the stream, his eyes closed, learning to coax the water into small, dancing spirals. Shiro, ever-present on his wrist or shoulder, seemed to flourish in the glade's energy. The small snake grew sleeker, its scales taking on a deeper, iridescent sheen, and its movements lost their last traces of clumsiness, replaced by a fluid, watchful grace.
One day, as the mist of dawn clung to the glade floor, the spirits' voices harmonized into a single, solemn tone that resonated through the very air. "You have learned to touch the magic, Child of the Serpent's Mark. But listening is not the same as commanding. The time has come for your first trial: The Trial of Serpent's Strength."
Ren's breath hitched. He stood, his muscles tense with anticipation. "I am ready."
In response, the stream before him ceased its gentle babbling. The water began to churn violently, gathering in the center of the glade. It swirled into a frothing vortex, then erupted upwards. With a roar that was both water and wind, a colossal serpent of pure, pressurized water took form. It was easily twice the height of a man, its body thick and muscular, its head defined by a flowing crest and two empty sockets that somehow seemed to fixate on him with immense pressure.
Ren's heart hammered against his ribs. This was nothing like the small spirals of water he had been practicing with. He instinctively raised his hands, pulling on his connection to the magic. A whip of water shot from the stream, lashing out at the great water serpent. It struck the creature's flank with a loud smack but did nothing more than cause a momentary ripple before being absorbed into its massive form.
The water serpent retaliated. Its tail, a battering ram of liquid force, swung around. Ren barely had time to throw himself aside as it crashed into the spot where he had been standing, gouging a deep trench in the earth. Cold spray drenched him. He scrambled back to his feet, fear turning cold in his stomach. How could he fight a creature made of the very element he was supposed to command?
Shiro hissed from his shoulder, a tiny, defiant sound against the roar of the water construct. The small snake's courage gave Ren a sliver of focus. He tried again, this time forming a shield of water. The serpent's head lunged forward, a battering ram of liquid, and shattered his shield effortlessly. The impact threw Ren backward, and he landed hard, the air knocked from his lungs.
Lying on the damp moss, gasping for breath, despair began to creep in. This was impossible. Brute force was useless. The serpent was stronger, bigger, and was made of endless power from the stream.
"Strength is not only in the crushing blow," the spirits whispered in his mind, their voices gentle but firm. "The river can wear away mountains, not through a single strike, but through relentless flow. A serpent's true strength is not in its size, but in its fluid grace, its ability to find the weakness in its foe. Do not fight the water. Command it."
The words washed over him. Do not fight the water. He had been treating the serpent like a stone beast, trying to break it. But it wasn't stone. It was water. His water.
Slowly, Ren got to his feet. He looked at the serpent, not as an enemy, but as a puzzle. Shiro slithered down his arm, coiling tightly around his wrist, and Ren felt a surge of warmth from the mark on his hand. They were in this together.
Instead of launching another powerful but useless attack, Ren closed his eyes and focused. He didn't pull on the stream for more water; he reached out to the water that formed the serpent itself. He felt the currents that held its shape, the vortex of magic at its core that gave it life.
He opened his eyes. The serpent lunged again. This time, Ren didn't meet it head-on. He sidestepped, his hand outstretched, and tugged at the water forming its head. The attack veered slightly, missing him. It was a small victory, but it was everything.
A new strategy formed in his mind. He and Shiro moved as one. Ren would dart and weave, pulling and disrupting the currents within the serpent's body, causing it to falter and lose its shape for brief moments. At the same time, Shiro, empowered by the magic flowing from Ren, would shoot forward like a tiny, black-and-gold arrow, striking not the serpent's body, but the very ground at its base, creating distractions and disrupting its connection to the stream.
The serpent, a creature of pure power, was confused by this new tactic. It couldn't land a decisive blow. Ren grew bolder, his movements more fluid. He wasn't a farmer anymore; he was a dancer in a deadly duel. Finally, seeing his chance, he stopped running. He stood firm, rooted to the earth, and thrust both hands forward. He didn't create a weapon. He sent out a single, focused command of pure will, aimed directly at the magical core he had sensed earlier.
"Release."
For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then, with a shudder that shook the glade, the great water serpent lost its cohesion. The fierce eyes faded, the mighty form sagged, and with a final, sighing roar, it collapsed into a cascade of water that flowed harmlessly back into the stream.
Ren stood panting in the sudden silence, drenched and exhausted, his muscles screaming in protest. Shiro uncoiled from his wrist and nudged his hand, its golden eyes shining with pride.
"You have passed the first trial," the spirits' voices echoed, full of approval. "You have learned that true strength is not force, but control. Rest, Child of the Serpent's Mark. For the Trial of Wisdom awaits."