The training fields of the clan were alive with motion and sound. Young voices rose in shouts of exertion, wooden practice blades clashed against one another, and the thrum of mana gathering in the air resonated like an invisible heartbeat.
The atmosphere was tense yet charged with excitement. Everyone knew that this week marked a turning point. For years they had trained, fought, stumbled, and stood again, but all of it was leading to this: the awakening ceremony.
Here, the worth of one's bloodline would be revealed. Here, a single spark of fortune or misfortune could change the course of their lives forever.
The instructor, a battle-worn elf with scars lining his forearms, paced before the gathered youths. His voice carried easily, sharp as steel and heavy with authority.
"You should already know this, but I'll remind you anyway," he said, sweeping his gaze across them. "No matter how strong you believe yourselves to be, the awakening will lay you bare. You may think yourself a genius, but if you awaken with useless roots, a broken bloodline, or a pitiful gift, your position will plummet. That is the truth of the world."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
The instructor's lips curled faintly. "But do not mistake this for despair. Hard work matters. Cultivation matters. If your foundation is strong, even a weaker gift can become mighty. Do not forget: there are races worse off than ours. A weak elf still holds edges over a weak human. Even a rootless elf can often surpass a half-demon or a beastkin of frail lineage. Our kind are blessed...do not squander it."
He paused, then slammed his staff into the ground. "And yet, do not grow arrogant. There are races that eclipse even us. The Draconic bloodlines. The Titans. The Celestial clans. Compared to them, our arrogance is laughable. Balance your pride with humility, your ambition with effort. Do not forget that."
The lesson left the students restless, both sobered and secretly burning.
Among them stood Caelum.
His body looked weaker than ever. His face was pale, sickly, his lips colorless, his frame like it could be blown away by a strong wind. And yet his eyes, those unsettling, haunted eyes were not the eyes of the frail. They were locked in an invisible battle, as though something within him gnawed constantly at his mind.
He moved through drills with mechanical precision, each motion sharp but strained. He trained as though forcing himself against the very limits of his body. Sweat slicked his forehead, but he didn't falter.
Only the thought of the awakening ceremony kept him standing. One week more. If he could awaken something powerful, even slightly then he might yet carve a place in the world. Perhaps even enter the Academy.
But the whispers in his head didn't care about the ceremony. They only urged, demanded, clawed for blood.
*****
Training ended near dusk. The young elves were given leave to rest, eat, or continue sparring if they wished. Caelum withdrew to a tree at the edge of the field, lowering himself onto the grass with controlled breaths.
Seren approached first, sitting beside him quietly. He glanced sideways at Caelum, his normally calm expression shaded with worry.
"…Is it really that bad?" Seren asked softly.
Caelum blinked at him.
"The urges," Seren continued, voice steady despite the unease in his eyes. "Do you feel like… like you'll lose control? Like you might…" He hesitated. "…taste it?"
The word hung between them like poison.
Caelum looked away, jaw tight. He couldn't answer.
"You might have a bloodline you don't know of," Seren pressed. "Maybe… vampire. Some hidden ancestry. It would explain why blood affects you so much. Maybe if we tell the patriarch..."
Caelum almost laughed, bitterly. His mother was an elf, his father the Patriarch, his heritage recorded and pristine. Even his mother's faint draconic trace had never cursed her with horrors, only strength. What could explain him? Now that he thinks of it...he didn't know the details of her curse.
He shook his head, unable to give Seren what he wanted.
Elias arrived then, bursting into their silence like a storm. "Why do you two always look like you're sitting in a funeral?" he demanded, dropping onto the grass with a grin. "We've just survived another day of training! That's reason enough to celebrate."
Caelum's lips twitched faintly.
"You…" Elias jabbed a finger at him. "Stop staring into the void like a ghost. You're not going to hurt anyone, we know that. You'll get through this. You'll awaken something brilliant, and then you'll look back and laugh at all this brooding."
Caelum lowered his gaze. "…Thank you. Both of you."
His voice was quiet, but steady. "I know it hasn't been easy. To hear me… whisper. To watch me… struggle. I promise I'll never hurt either of you. I'll keep it under control."
Seren reached out, placing a hand over Caelum's trembling one. His touch was warm, though he flinched faintly at the chill in Caelum's skin. Still, he didn't pull away.
Elias clapped Caelum on the back, his laughter breaking the heaviness. "You'll be fine. We trust you. Besides,do you think your frail self would be able to hurt me?"
For a moment, under that tree, it almost felt like they were just ordinary friends.
*****
But peace never lasted long in the training fields.
"Pair up!" the instructor barked. "Combat drills begin now!"
Students scrambled to find partners. Elias immediately grabbed a practice blade, spinning it with visible excitement. Seren prepared calmly, stretching his arms and focusing his mana.
Caelum hesitated. His body ached, his head throbbed, the whispers pushed at the edges of his mind. But he stepped forward anyway. He would not falter here.
"Caelum!" A voice called him. A tall boy named Revan was grinning. "Let's go. I want to test myself against the 'sickly ghost.'"
A ripple of laughter followed, though quickly silenced by the instructor's glare.
Caelum nodded once, expression blank. He took his stance.
The match began.
Revan came in fast, swinging his blade low. Caelum's body moved on instinct. Parry, sidestep, counter. His strikes were weaker than others', but his precision was flawless. He didn't waste movement, every deflection angled to shift momentum away.
Still, he was being pushed back.
Revan's strength outmatched him, and Caelum's thin arms shook with each impact. His breathing grew ragged.
"Too weak!" Revan taunted. He lunged forward, aiming a blow at Caelum's side.
At the last moment, Caelum's palm flared with faint green light of life mana. He guided it not to heal, but to reinforce. His ribs hardened with a burst of vitality, absorbing the blow instead of shattering under it.
Using healing magic defensively on oneself was advanced.
Revan stumbled in surprise, and Caelum seized the opening. He redirected his mana into his leg, strength flooding muscle and bone. His kick snapped forward, striking Revan in the stomach and sending him sprawling.
The instructor's eyes narrowed with interest. Only Caelum knew that it's the highest extent he could use mana with his pitiful cultivation.
He quickly dropped the wooden sword and stepped back before he really hurt someone.
His hands trembled.
But he stepped back, forcing his breathing calm.
"I yield," Revan coughed, glaring up at him. "Damn ghost…"
The instructor clapped once. "Well done. Both of you. Caelum, clever use of life magic. That is how you survive."
Caelum ignored them, his heart pounding. The fight had shown progress, but it had also reminded him how close the horrors lurked beneath his skin.
*******
That evening, Caelum lay awake staring at the ceiling. His body trembled, his mind thrummed with whispers.
The horrors came and went like waves, sometimes soft, sometimes crashing down so hard he nearly lost himself. It was like living with a migraine made of bloodlust, violence, and chaos.
Training was the only thing that quieted it. But even training could not erase it completely.
He closed his eyes, remembering Seren's warm hand and Elias's reckless laughter. They had stayed by him all these years. They trusted him.
He would not break that trust.
Not yet.