Moonlight rippled over Shadewatch Fortress, washing its black stone walls in cold silver. The air still carried the faint burn of aura clashes from earlier that night.
In the central courtyard, Asia Savoy knelt before Lord Alden Savoy, her azure eyes reflecting the torchlight like still water before a storm. Her hair, a deep shade of silver-blue, spilled over her shoulder, the faint shimmer of aura flickering around her like a living mist.
"He's rough, unpolished," she said, voice calm, precise — a blade with no wasted edge. "But his instinct… it's frightening. He reads movement like breathing. He saw through one of my fakes."
Lord Alden's stern gaze shifted slightly, interest flickering beneath his stillness. "You mean the boy—Kian?"
Asia nodded. "The same. He lacks refinement, but his aura flow is unlike any I've seen since… yours."
That earned a quiet exhale from the patriarch — the closest thing Alden Savoy ever came to surprise.
> "You wish to train him?"
"Not wish," Asia corrected softly. "Need. His aura dances the same way mine once did — fluid, unpredictable, natural. If we do not shape it, it will devour him."
Alden's eyes narrowed, but there was approval beneath the silence. "Very well. Train him. But remember — the Curse does not sleep. Those who rise too quickly often vanish twice as fast."
Asia stood, bowing slightly. "Then I'll make sure he learns to endure the fading."
The torches dimmed as she turned, blue aura trailing behind her like a spectral flame.
---
The next morning, Kian stood in the grand hall, still sore from the previous night's fight. He could still feel the pressure of Asia's aura lingering in his chest — cold, sharp, alive.
Lord Alden sat on the elevated seat of the hall, flanked by two guards of the Phantom Vanguard, silent as statues. Asia stood to his right, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"Kian Savoy," the patriarch began, his tone deliberate and heavy. "You faced one of our family's grandmasters and did not break. Few can claim that. You stand before me today with a choice."
Kian glanced toward Asia. Her eyes met his — cool, expectant, yet carrying a faint glimmer of acknowledgment.
"My sister," Alden continued, "has offered to take you under her direct training. But know this: her methods are not kind. Her lessons are pain disguised as wisdom."
Kian bowed deeply, eyes steady. "May I speak freely, Patriarch?"
"You may."
"If I am to stand among heirs who were born ahead of me, I cannot learn kindness. I accept her training — no matter the cost."
For a heartbeat, silence filled the hall. Then Asia's lips curved into the faintest smirk.
> "Then we begin at dawn."
---
Training under Asia Savoy was nothing short of war.
Days blurred into exhaustion, each sunrise marked by bruises, blood, and growth.
"Again," she ordered, voice never raising, never softening.
Kian gasped, hands trembling as green aura flickered weakly around his fists. His body screamed, yet he obeyed. Again. Again.
Asia's azure aura pulsed like a living storm, shaping invisible barriers and strikes that tested not his strength, but his will.
When he failed to block, her aura struck his core directly — not to harm, but to teach.
"Aura is not muscle," she said. "It's breath. Intention. You do not force it — you command it with truth. Feel it, don't chase it."
Kian's eyes hardened. Sweat rolled down his face, mixing with dust and blood. He focused, breathing slow, grounding himself in silence. The green aura around him shifted, no longer flickering — but pulsing, like the rhythm of life itself.
Asia watched quietly, her azure energy resonating faintly in response. He's adapting faster than expected… too fast.
---
By the third week, Kian no longer stumbled.
By the fifth, his strikes carried weight beyond his age.
By the eighth, his aura sang.
Asia stood in the rain one evening, watching her student move through the courtyard. His fists sliced the downpour, each motion channeling a wave of green light.
"Your aura has matured," she said finally. "You've crossed from Awakened to Disciplined — the second stage."
Kian stopped, panting, eyes bright. "Disciplined… what's next?"
Asia's voice softened — the rare hint of warmth breaking through her frost.
"There are seven stages of aura."
She gestured with her hand, drawing faint azure symbols in the air as she spoke.
"Awakened — awareness."
"Disciplined — control."
"Resonant — influence."
"Imbued — projection."
"Manifested — domination."
"Transcendent — ascension."
"Primordial — the realm of kings."
Her eyes met his. "To walk that path is to defy heaven itself. Each step costs you something. Blood. Memory. Humanity. The Curse of Fading will test you harder the higher you climb."
Kian's fists tightened. "Then I'll give what it takes. I won't fade — not before I make this name burn bright again."
Asia's gaze lingered on him for a long moment — then she turned away, her voice low.
"Then may your flame outlast the curse, little Savoy."
---
Two months passed.
The fortress guards whispered about the courtyard lights that burned green and blue every night — aura storms that shattered stone and reshaped air.
When Kian finally stepped out of training, his aura no longer shimmered weakly. It pulsed steady and deep, wrapping him like a mantle of living energy.
Asia stood behind him, arms crossed. "You survived."
Kian smiled faintly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Barely."
"Good," she said. "Now you're ready for the next trial."
From the shadows, Lord Alden Savoy watched them silently from the balcony above.
"So it begins," the patriarch said, watching the flames die. "Another Savoy dares to burn his name into the world."
The clouds above Shadewatch parted briefly, and for a moment, the light caught the Savoy crest — a silver flame coiled around a fading circle.
And deep within that light, Kian's green aura burned steady, unyielding.