The summons came at dawn, when the mountain still slept beneath a veil of mist. A black-robed attendant strode into the disciples' quarters and unfurled a scroll with deliberate gravity.
"By order of the sect elders," he announced, voice carrying across the courtyard, "a group of juniors will accompany their seniors into the Vale to cull the growing beast presence. This is not a drill. Those chosen will stand as the sect's eyes and blades."
Murmurs rippled through the disciples. A real mission. Blood and danger, not sparring rings and practice yards.
Names followed. Joren's, of course, called early, drawing approving nods. A few of his allies, too. Then Kaelen's—spoken near the end, as if added more for utility than promise.
Kaelen inclined his head, betraying nothing. But he felt the glances shift. Some surprised, some dismissive, a few calculating.
By midday, they assembled at the outer gates, where the sect's banners flapped in the mountain wind. Senior disciples led the group, their serpents gleaming solid and vibrant. The juniors stood behind, nerves thinly veiled.
Kaelen positioned himself at the rear, eyes lowered. Joren, of course, stood at the front, serpent coiled bright and taut, his posture sharp with pride.
"Stay out of my way, shadow," Joren muttered as they passed through the gates. "This mission doesn't have room for dead weight."
Kaelen offered no answer. He let Joren stride ahead, basking in the spotlight, while he slipped quietly into the margins where eyes rarely lingered.
The Vale was different in daylight. Its trees leaned inward, branches twisted as if trying to smother the sunlight. The air carried a thickness, a residue of fear and sorrow that never quite lifted. Beasts thrived on it.
Their first clash came quickly. A pack of warped hounds lunged from the underbrush, jaws lined with serrated teeth, eyes burning with hunger.
The seniors struck with crisp precision, their serpents weaving bright arcs of Qi that cleaved through the beasts. Joren stepped forward eagerly, his jade serpent lashing out to coil around a hound's throat, snapping it with brutal ease. Applause followed from the juniors.
Kaelen moved at the edges. His serpent, faint and grey, flickered like smoke as he dodged a lunging hound. To watching eyes, he fought clumsily, barely keeping pace.
But in truth, each step was measured. Each strike let his Insight flicker over the beasts' movements, mapping the flow of corrupted Qi in their veins. His serpent's fangs brushed one beast's hide—not enough to kill, but enough to taste its current.
Later, in solitude, he would refine that taste.
After the skirmish, the group paused to regroup. Seniors offered praise to Joren, whose serpent coiled proudly around his arm. Kaelen received nothing but sidelong glances.
One of the juniors scoffed aloud. "Why bring him? He nearly got bit."
"Don't waste your breath," Joren replied, loud enough for all to hear. "Some shadows only exist to make the light brighter."
Laughter followed. Kaelen lowered his gaze, expression calm, while inside, the memory of the fang's corrosive strike pulsed in his veins.
As dusk fell, they reached a clearing where they would camp. Fires were lit, meals shared, watch rotations assigned. Kaelen's turn came near midnight, when most were asleep.
He sat at the edge of the firelight, serpent faint by his side, and stared into the dark trees. The night was restless, heavy with the Vale's whispers.
From behind him, a voice murmured: "They're watching you."
Kaelen didn't turn. He didn't need to. It was one of the senior disciples, passing by on his round. His tone carried no warmth, only warning.
Kaelen inclined his head faintly. "Then I must give them nothing to see."
The senior said nothing more, footsteps fading into the dark.
Later, when the fire was low and the camp quiet, Kaelen let his serpent stir within his Soul Palace. Its eyes glimmered silver, hunger simmering beneath its dull husk.
The mission had only just begun, but already, the noose followed him beyond the sect walls. Elders, seniors, rivals—all eyes lingered.
And in the Vale's shadows, where beasts howled and Qi thickened with malice, Kaelen knew: danger would soon strip masks away.
The question was—whose mask would break first?