The northern plateau awoke under a pale morning sun, and the mist still clung stubbornly to the jagged cliffs. Ethan Sixx moved with ease along the familiar paths, his steps measured, attuned to the subtle vibrations of the stone beneath him. The crystal fragment in his pocket pulsed faintly, a constant whisper of warmth and quiet energy, reminding him that there was more to the plateau than met the eye.
Kael Veylan followed, his expression tense, shoulders rigid with unease. "You move as if the cliffs bend for you," he muttered, though he did not look directly at Ethan. "One misstep, and all your so-called instinct won't save you."
Ethan's lips curved slightly, but his eyes remained fixed ahead. "It is not instinct," he said quietly. "It is observation, patience, and attention. The mountain speaks if one knows how to listen."
Kael shook his head, muttering under his breath, but he continued, careful to match Ethan's pace. Despite his frustration, Kael could not ignore the subtle shifts in the air, the way the stones seemed to acknowledge Ethan's presence. Even he had to admit, though silently, that there was something different about the boy.
The plateau stretched farther than usual, jagged spires rising from the mist like the fingers of some sleeping giant. Ethan approached a fissure he had passed many times, yet this morning it called to him differently. The crystal fragment pulsed more strongly as if urging him forward, and a faint warmth flowed into his palm.
He crouched to examine the narrow crevice. A faint red shimmer pulsed deep within, almost imperceptible, but enough to make his heart quicken. It reminded him of the whispers of Forbidden Zones, stories spoken quietly by elders in the training halls—zones where cultivation techniques of unspeakable power lay hidden, guarded by the earth itself.
Kael stepped close, brow furrowed. "You can't seriously consider crawling into that," he said sharply. "Even the senior disciples avoid it."
Ethan glanced at him calmly. "I am not a senior. But I can still observe. Sometimes the lesson is in knowing how to approach the unknown without reckless haste."
Kael frowned but said nothing. He knew Ethan's mind worked differently, and no amount of warning would sway him from pursuing what he considered essential.
Ethan rested his hands against the cold stone near the fissure. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, attuning himself to the faint pulse of energy beneath the plateau. The warmth of the crystal fragment and the rhythm of the mountain intertwined, threading a delicate path through his awareness. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, yet he could feel it guiding him, shaping his motions.
A small pebble shifted under his weight, startling Kael slightly. "Careful!" Kael whispered, instinctively reaching for his energy blade.
Ethan smiled faintly, rising with smooth, deliberate motion. "Careful," he repeated softly, though not to Kael, but to himself. The plateau was teaching patience, balance, and awareness. The slightest misstep could spell disaster, but each success, no matter how small, was a lesson worth learning.
As they continued, a sudden rustle came from the cliffs above. Ethan looked up sharply. A hawk spiraled down from the mist, wings spread wide, talons extended—but it did not strike. Instead, it landed on a protruding rock, head cocked as if studying him. Its eyes, sharp and intelligent, held a strange gleam that sent a shiver down Ethan's spine.
Kael frowned. "A bird? Really?" he asked, though his tone lacked conviction.
Ethan's gaze did not leave the hawk. "It is not just a bird," he said quietly. "Sometimes, even the smallest creatures carry messages."
The hawk released a low cry before taking off again, vanishing into the mist. Ethan exhaled slowly. Something about that cry had resonated within him, subtle but undeniable, as though it were a fragment of the world speaking directly to him.
By evening, the two returned to the main hall. The corridors buzzed quietly with murmurs from other disciples, curious about Ethan's repeated trips to the plateau. Whispers spread that the boy moved as though the stones themselves recognized him, that even the winds seemed to shift when he passed.
Master Korrath observed silently from the shadows, his sharp gaze resting on Ethan. The boy's progress was unusual, even remarkable. There was potential, yes—but also unpredictability. The mountain had chosen to awaken something within him, and whether that gift became a blessing or a disaster remained unseen.
Ethan did not notice the weight of those eyes. He only felt the warmth of the crystal fragment in his pocket and the lingering resonance of the plateau. There was a path unfolding before him, quiet, patient, and full of unseen trials. He did not yet know the magnitude of what awaited, nor the ancient forces that watched, but he felt the pulse of the world stretching toward him, guiding him, testing him.
That night, Ethan sat alone in his room, the cool stone beneath him grounding his thoughts. Outside, the wind whispered through the corridors of the sect, carrying the faint echo of distant cliffs and hidden fissures. Somewhere, deep in the northern plateau, a scarlet shimmer pulsed quietly, like a heartbeat waiting to be noticed.
He touched the crystal fragment once more. Its warmth was familiar now, a companion in the quiet night. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the walls of Crestfall, the world was shifting, ancient eyes observing, waiting. Ethan did not yet understand the significance, but he knew one truth: he was no longer merely a disciple of the Iron Mountain Sect. Something far greater had begun to stir in response to his presence.
And with that knowledge, he closed his eyes, letting the pulse of the mountain, the fragment, and the wind wash over him, preparing silently for the days to come.