The journey to the Abyssal Training Caverns was a slow, silent march into a waking nightmare.
Lin Xiao was given no time to gather her things or say a proper goodbye to her mother. Two grim-faced guards in the black-and-silver livery of the Midnight Blade Castle escorted her from the gates at dawn. Her tenth birthday had passed unnoticed, buried beneath her father's cold decree.
For three days they traveled on horseback, leaving behind the jagged spires and fog-shrouded valleys of the Midnight Blade territories. The world grew quieter, the air thinner, the colors bleaker. On the morning of the fourth day, they reached the foot of the Forbidden Mountain.
It was a place of legend and dread—a colossal, brooding peak of jagged black stone that seemed to drink the light from the sky. No trees grew on its slopes, only twisted, thorny shrubs and patches of grey lichen. A permanent mist clung to its midsection, and high above, the peak was sheathed in ice and shadow.
Carved into the base of the mountain was the entrance to the Abyssal Training Caverns. It was not a natural cave, but a brutal, architectural maw: a massive archway of fused stone and dark iron, engraved with faded, sinister runes that pulsed with a faint purple light. Two towering statues of armored warriors, worn smooth by wind and time, flanked the entrance, their stone eyes staring emptily into the distance. The air here was cold and still, smelling of damp rock and something metallic, like old blood.
One of the guards dismounted and shoved a small pack into Lin Xiao's hands. It contained a single change of rough-spun clothes, a waterskin, and a hard loaf of bread.
"From here, you walk alone," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. He wouldn't meet her eyes.
The other guard pointed a calloused finger toward the arch. "Through there. Someone will find you. Or something will. Either way, your old life is done."
Lin Xiao clutched the pack to her chest, her small knuckles white. She looked back once, toward the distant haze where her home lay. Mother. I will survive. She turned and stepped into the darkness.
The tunnel beyond the arch was wide but oppressive, lit by intermittent, ghostly green crystals embedded in the walls. The sound of dripping water echoed endlessly. After what felt like an hour of walking downward, the tunnel opened into a vast, cavernous chamber.
This was the Receiving Hollow.
The ceiling soared into blackness, lost to sight. The floor was smooth, worn stone, and the space was illuminated by a large, circular pool of glowing green liquid in the center—some kind of luminescent algae or alchemical brew—that cast shifting, sickly shadows on the walls. Around the edges of the chamber, Lin Xiao saw other children.
There were about forty of them, all boys, ranging in age from perhaps eleven to fifteen. They stood or sat in silent, wary clusters. All were dressed in identical grey tunics and trousers, many already stained and torn. Their faces were a gallery of harsh youth: some were scarred, others bore the hollow look of long hunger, and all their eyes held a hardness that no child should possess.
Standing before the glowing pool was a man who could only be the overseer.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with the build of a veteran who had seen his body broken and rebuilt many times. His face was a roadmap of violence—a thick, ragged scar pulled the left corner of his mouth into a permanent sneer, and his nose had been broken more than once. He wore simple, practical dark leathers, and a heavy ring of iron keys hung at his belt. His hair was cropped short, grey at the temples. But it was his eyes that Lin Xiao noticed most—flat, pale grey, and utterly indifferent, like stones at the bottom of a well. This was a man who had long ago stopped seeing children, and now saw only raw material or waste.
The overseer's gaze swept over the new arrivals, lingering for a fraction of a second on Lin Xiao—the only girl. He showed no surprise.
"Line up," he said. His voice was gravelly and calm, carrying easily in the hollow space. It was not a shout, but it brooked no disobedience.
The boys shuffled into a ragged line. Lin Xiao moved to the end, her heart pounding against her ribs.
The overseer walked slowly before them, his boots echoing. "Forget your names. Forget your families. Forget the sun. You have no past. Here, you have only one purpose: to become a weapon worthy of the Abyss. Some of you will be the blade we sharpen. Most of you…" he paused, his stone-like eyes passing over a smaller, trembling boy, "…will be the whetstone we break upon."
He stopped in the center, facing them all. "Your first lesson begins now. It is called the Azure Spark Strike. Watch."
He held out his right hand, palm up. His focus was absolute. A flicker of blue light appeared in the center of his palm—a tiny, sputtering ember that danced like an agitated insect. With a swift, sharp motion, he snapped his wrist forward. The blue spark shot across the chamber and struck a training dummy made of straw and rope set against the far wall. There was a sharp hiss, and a small, blackened hole appeared in the dummy's chest, tendrils of smoke rising from it.
"A basic ignition technique," the overseer said, closing his fist, snuffing the lingering glow. "It will be your bread, your water, and your first means of killing. You will master it, or you will be mastered by those who do." He nodded to two brutish-looking junior disciples standing by a heavy iron door. "Take them to the dormitory. Tomorrow, the forging begins."
The iron door groaned open, revealing another dark corridor. The junior disciples—boys no older than sixteen but with the cruel eyes of seasoned jailers—began herding the group forward.
Lin Xiao was shoved along with the rest. As she passed the overseer, his grey eyes met hers for one chilling moment. In them, she saw no malice, no interest, no humanity. Only an appraisal. Whetstone or blade? the look seemed to ask.
The dormitory was a long, low-ceilinged cavern with rough stone walls weeping moisture. Dozens of simple straw pallets lined the floor, most already claimed. The air was thick with the smell of unwashed bodies, damp straw, and despair. A single, guttering torch in a wall sconce provided the only light.
Lin Xiao found an empty pallet in a shadowy corner. She sat down, pulling her knees to her chest, trying to make herself small. Around her, the other boys were claiming spaces, some with shoves and muttered threats. In another corner, a small boy with sandy hair and clever eyes was not fighting for a bed but was already fiddling with a piece of loose wire from the wall, twisting it into a crude shape as he observed the chaos with a detached, practical curiosity. She saw a hulking boy with a shock of unruly black hair and a ruddy, aggressive face shove a smaller boy away from a pallet near the wall. That one would be trouble. She noted his face and looked away, not wanting to attract attention.
As she sat in the gloom, her resolve hardened like cooling iron in her heart. The fear was still there, a cold knot in her stomach. The loneliness was a physical ache. But beneath it, something else was stirring—a fierce, stubborn spark.
I will learn. I will become strong. I will not be broken. I will see my mother again.
The torch finally sputtered out, plunging the cavern into utter blackness. In the darkness, Lin Xiao clutched the small pack to her chest, the only tangible remnant of her past life. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped with a slow, maddening rhythm.
Somewhere closer, a boy wept silently into his straw.
Lin Xiao did not cry. She lay on the thin pallet, staring into the black, and listened. She listened to the sounds of the caverns—the drip, the rustle, the breath of two dozen other cast-off children. And she memorized them. This was her world now. A world of stone, shadow, and the cold blue spark of a stolen flame.
Her training in hell had begun