Eryndor watched his father from across the courtyard as he trained alone, each movement deliberate, precise, and almost hypnotic. There was no unnecessary flourish, no wasted motion—only perfect alignment of body, mind, and elemental force. Lightning in Eryndor's veins seemed to hum in response, as if acknowledging the presence of mastery far beyond his own.
His father had always been formidable, but the spar that night revealed more than just strength. He was one of the strongest in the world, a living legend whose name carried weight among both mortal and elemental circles. Stories whispered in the academy—the kind that seemed exaggerated—were all true. And Eryndor finally understood why his father had remained in the shadows.
Kael's testing, Dorian's sudden appearance, the way Lyanna spoke of him… it all began to make sense. His father had spent years navigating a world that demanded respect and caution, masking his true abilities while carefully guiding the next generation.
Eryndor's mind drifted to his grandfather and his original parents—the ones who had come before him. They weren't ordinary either. From what little he knew:
His grandfather had been a master of martial arts and elemental fusion, a man whose skill had been feared and respected across continents. He had trained in secret, passing down the Eightfold Flow, techniques that transcended ordinary martial arts. His original parents had lived on Earth for a time, blending seamlessly with humanity while quietly holding a lineage of power. They survived impossible trials, passing down latent affinities and instincts that now stirred within Eryndor.
It all connected—the trance, the lightning, the wind, the instinctive Eightfold Flow, and even the subtle guidance his father had provided. It wasn't just potential. It was heritage, bloodline, and legacy converging in him.
Eryndor's chest tightened with realization. He wasn't just training to become strong; he was learning to awaken what had been passed down for generations. Every failure, every lesson, every sparring match with Kael, Dorian, and even his father, was part of a tapestry woven long before he was born.
The next morning, the courtyard of Stormcrest Academy buzzed with energy as students prepared for another round of rigorous training. Eryndor stepped onto the grounds, shoulders squared, lightning faintly arcing along his arms. He had returned not as a boy testing his limits but as one aware of the legacy he carried, the bloodline he represented, and the potential within him waiting to be awakened.
The top ten trials had already made him notable, but now he approached with a new clarity. Every strike, dodge, and feint in his mind carried the memory of his father's teachings, the instinctive flow from the martial trance, and the legacy of his grandfather.
Kael, standing at the edge of the training grounds, raised an eyebrow. "Back so soon, Eryndor. Did the lessons from home sink in?"
Eryndor's lips curved into a faint, confident smile. "Every one of them," he replied. "And I'm ready to put them into practice."
The academy's grounds stretched before him, full of challenge, rivalry, and opportunity. Students whispered as he passed, some curious, some wary—but Eryndor didn't notice. His focus was inward, grounding himself in lightning, wind, and flow, ready to integrate everything he had learned and adapt faster than anyone else.
This was a new chapter. One where the weight of his heritage met the crucible of the academy, and every strike, every dodge, and every burst of elemental power would bring him closer to mastering what only his bloodline could wield