In our fourth year at Academy each student chooses a path to follow from the Four Primal Elements of Earth, Wind, Fire, or Water. At this stage it actually makes little difference, but it is incredibly important in how our futures would unfold from here on out.

The Path of Fire is the typical Way of the Warrior, and options for this path included becoming a Soldier for one of the Great Houses, if you performed well enough in the tournament, or becoming a Guard in The City. This is the path that Wulfric has chosen, partly because that is the path his father chose before him, and partly because none of the other options really suit him.

The Path of Wind leads to becoming a Scout for one of the Great Houses, or becoming a Guard in one of the Villages should they fail. This is the path Tetra has taken, though she hasn’t yet said why. It could be because it gets her out of The City even if she fails in the tournament… but then again that kind of defeatism isn’t like her.

The Path of Water sees those who do well become Keepers, those responsible for guarding and teaching Cultivation Techniques; or Tutors, rare commoners who are actually taught to read… but only in order to teach young nobles in turn.

The Path of Earth is the one I have chosen. Those who excel in the Black Tournament join a Great House and are trained as Hunters – the Cultivators who are largely responsible for ranging out of their respective Garrisons and keeping the beast populations in check. Those who fail are dispersed as needed, typically as Guards with special training in investigation or as Guards who work to assist other Hunters in the field.

Of course there is nothing set in stone, and truthfully trainees do at times switch from one path to the next, but such things usually require the recommendation of an Instructor, a Noble, or a Cultivator who has finished their training (a total of six years, from the age of fourteen to twenty).

The last tenday of Academy before we leave for the tournament is used as a trial, but it’s not exactly a test…

“Are the children ready?” Asked a man with a long diagonal scar across his face, the skin tissue a lighter shade of blue against the darker shade comprising the rest of his skin.

“No sir, they are going to die.” Replied the woman who had helped us prepare for the journey ahead of us, but her words were part of a ritual and held no actual disdain.

“As shall we all.” Said the scarred man, completing the ritual.

The three of us shared a glance, Wulfric looking excited and Tetra full of subtle tension, like a tightly coiled spring.

Turning to us, the scarred man said, “You will report directly to the senior officer of your chosen path. I will have more important matters to attend to.” Then he turned on his heel, leaving us behind for other people to deal with.

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The woman who was in charge of my unit reminded me of Zephyr – who I got to see occasionally on freedays – mainly because they both had over-sized jaws and sharp looking teeth and both of them were pitch black… although where Zephyr had scales, Hunter Omylia was covered in a fine black fur from head to foot. But Omylia also had an aura of kindness about her, somehow bringing my cousin’s (that’s how I thought of Zephyr) image to mind.

And it was a good thing too, because if she was the pitch-black-angel of our troupe, then surely Hunter Alder was the angel-faced-demon. The man would rarely stop staring at me, and I had a strong sense that he wanted nothing more than to see me fail horribly (or worse). There wasn’t any way he could actually threaten me, however, so I decided to just ignore him for now. Most of my anger against him had cooled off over the last few years and, honestly, looking at him with his armored stump where a hand should have been… perhaps he has already been punished for his crimes.

And to add to that, while we were setting up camp last night I found out that Alder used to be second in command among the hunters… but the loss of this hand, and then his quad, somehow allowed Omylia to take his place a few years back. At this point, letting him live on might be the cruelest thing I could do to him.

“Heller!” Came a shout from up ahead, causing me to pick up my pace and catch up to the middle of the formation again. We had all left Academy together – Wulfric with the Warriors, Tetra with the Scouts, and I with the Hunters – but after establishing a base camp about a day’s travel out the soldiers had split into four distinct squads that each had separate assignments. The composition of each squad was similar and each took only a single one of us, finally splitting up our merry trio, except for the last group which remained behind to guard our camp.

Eight cultivators all working together should have been pretty safe, and I was told that if any forces we couldn’t handle were in the area we would be warned by the forward observation posts. We weren’t told any more than that (not even how the observation posts worked), and we were warned before we left that there were a great many secrets known only members of one of the Great Houses (such as our escorts, who were soldiers of House Flameward).

As embarrassing as it was, I was having a bit of trouble keeping up with my assigned squad. Master Jaduk had reminded me that I had to be extra careful until after I was accepted by a Great House and therefore legally allowed to cultivate. Which mean that I had to jog when they walked, sprint when they ran, and they still had to slow down and stop for me once I ran out of breath. Sure, I was in amazing shape for an eight-year-old (almost nine!), but there was no way I could compete with trained soldiers.

Alder was snickering as I scampered past him, and I only just barely hopped over the foot he stuck in my path. My brows furrowed, but Hunter Omylia was waiting for me so I kept going.

“What do you see here, Heller?” She asked me, pointing at the ground.

Uhhh… dirt? Grass? I pursed my lips, trying to focus on the area around us. And then I saw it. “Tracks, running north to south.” I pointed from the mountains back towards North Stone Village. “And they are deep, but maybe… at least a few days old?” I asked looking up at her.

Omylia smiled down at me, patting my shoulder. “Good, Heller. See their marks?” She pointed at a separate area that I hadn’t noticed. “Three legs. Twice as heavy as a person. No claws.” She left the words to hang, obviously another test…

… but this time I had no idea. We had gone over a large variety of different beasts in class, but I couldn’t recall anything that fit the description. Few beasts had three legs, and all the ones I could think of had claws. I shook my head, about to tell her I wasn’t sure, when suddenly what sounded like a clap of thunder went off somewhere in the distance – and from the speed that the Squad reacted at I thought something was attacking us!

Instinctively speeding up my personal time I searched for the threat, spinning around supernaturally fast… but there was nothing except a bunch of soldiers quickly moving into formation.

“Back to base camp!” Omylia barked, rapidly breaking into a sprint, her eyes moving all around us and her hand on her weapon.

“I’ll take the brat.” I heard Alder growl behind me.

Screw that. I’d rather risk being found out that have to rely on that bastard for anything. I might only be about seventy percent as quick as an adult, but when I sped up time that made me almost fifty percent faster than they were. So I could slip into a sustainable jog and still keep up with them even if they moved at a full sprint.

I knew that Lord Runax had forced Alder to swear – upon his own life – that he would stay silent about my cultivation, but just to be safe I dropped back to the rear of the formation in an attempt not to stick out too much.

We ran for what felts like hours, the soldiers around me rushing but still seeming calm enough… even Alder, once you got past his glower, didn’t really look out of sorts… But then we heard another boom, this one quite a bit louder, and I actually saw a burst of red faintly in the distance, nearly lost against the bright blue afternoon sky.

One of the warriors stumbled, and I saw more than a few of them exchange wide eyed looks. The first blast had come from the north east, I think, but the second one was clearly from further to the west.

“Back to Garrison!” Yelled Omylia, her voice having lost some of its calm. She did spare a moment to glance over at me, however. “Make sure you keep up, Heller!”

“What happened?” I asked, running closer to her. No point in hiding now, and hopefully everyone was too distracted to wonder how I was keeping up with them.

She looked at me, shaking her head, and then turned to focus on the road. I dropped back, hoping that we would meet up with the other groups soon.

“Your friends are under attack.” Rasped Alder, moving closer to me. “Probably dead.” He was smiling.

I didn’t even have room for anger, worry taking over. I needed more information, and the best way to get him to talk was to act scared.

“How do you know? I don’t believe you!” I said, forcing my voice to sound somewhat shrill. I have never considered myself a great actor, but it’s not like Alder was very hard to fool. If he didn’t tell me… I didn’t know what I was going to do.

“We only use the Tells when we meet a force we might not be able to defeat.” He gave me a glare. “And your friends are in the north.” He took a moment to scan behind us, obviously trying to hide his own fear as he taunted me. “Two Tells means rally back at Garrison.”

He was suddenly interrupted as another blast went off to the east, this one closer than the rest.

“Bloody beasts!” Gasped Alder, his eyes going wide as he stopped looking at me and buckled his head down to run even faster.

“Go! Warn the Garrison, major attack, enemy unknown!” Omylia barked out again, pointing at one of our scouts. The woman nodded, taking a metal tube out of her backpack and moving laterally away from the group… and then all of a sudden her entire form crackled with electricity, miniature lightning bolts sparking all around her as she nearly doubled her pace and blazed away from us towards the south.

Tetra was to the north; Wulfric was to the west. Screw this, nobody is dying on my watch.

… scrap that. One person is probably going to die. I glanced at Alder, and before he could even react the ground under him turned into ice. I didn’t bother to spare him another glance as I spun and started racing north, jumping into the air as I created a giant pillar of ice to propel myself skyward. While I was flying/falling I encased myself in a wide rectangle of ice, letting my will flow into the shape I wanted as the rest fell below me in a storm of hail.

What emerged was a sculpted figure of frost, a thin layer of chiseled armor covering me from head to foot and a gigantic pair of icy wings sprouting from my back. I couldn’t quite fly with them, but I was hoping to at least get a good glide going. I wanted to get to my friends FAST.

The time for subtlety had passed; now was a time for action.