As young Stearna of Sharirun—practitioners of the arts of stealth—trained in the lush, open green fields, one student perched on a tree branch, carving a wooden figure with her razor-sharp blade, just one of several that hung at her hip. She was rather short, though not unusually so, with long hazel hair that reached the base of her neck. Her clothes matched the standard uniform of the other warriors: a black, sleeveless suit. But unlike them, she wore a rope around her waist instead of a belt.
Students were scattered across their training grounds—a complex stretch of land with unique equipment fixed to various walls. Wooden bars were set up for climbing, a tall bouldering wall loomed nearby, and several training dummies stood in place. Despite all that, many students were focused on scrolls laid out in front of them. One woman traced her finger along the parchment, cheerfully explaining its teachings to those who gathered to listen.
“Hey, listen up!” a man shouted to the crowd. “Anyone spotted Sil?”
This man was broad and solid, more round from muscle than fat. His shoulders were wide, and his thick neck seemed to blend into them. Long red hair fell from scalp to rear, waving gently in the morning breeze.
“She went into the woods, Slye,” the girl by the scrolls answered.
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
“She was up before dawn, way before training started. I told her to get some rest before she overworked herself.”
Slye growled, then shouted into the open air, “Sil, if you can hear me, I need you here now! We need to talk!”
Sil dropped from her branch with practiced grace, pocketing her carving as she made her way to the course.
“Sorry, Slye. I wouldn’t have wandered off if I knew you'd be mad.”
“I’m not mad—I just need you to understand where I’m coming from. What we need is for you to train with us. You don’t have to put in all this extra work.”
“I just prefer to train alone.”
“Yeah? Well... we don’t need a one-person army. We need a team that communicates. Your early-morning sessions aren’t necessary. I need you at full energy when the rest of us are here. You get that?”
The group’s attention shifted to the top of the hill as Pervoick appeared, ushering an unfamiliar man along with him.
“Well,” Slye called out, looking up at his friend, “I assume you found something during the rounds.”
Though Pervoick was the team’s leader, he often joined the senior Stearna on early missions to gain experience, leaving Slye in charge of day-to-day training.
Pervoick shrugged. “Actually, we weren’t out long. Most of the time was spent bringing this guy to the Chief.” He gestured toward the outsider—a blond man who looked far too eager to be there.
“Why’d you bring him here?” Slye asked.
“To the village, or to you?”
“To us.”
Pervoick sighed. “Well... the Chief put him on the mission.”
No wonder he was hesitant to break the news. How could this have happened?
Slye recoiled, clearly upset. “The nest raid!? Why?”
“Well, just take a look at him.”
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Slye gave a skeptical look before turning a hard glare on the blond boy. The stranger shifted, visibly uncomfortable. Then, Slye’s expression suddenly changed—his eyes widening in shock.
He hummed thoughtfully. He had clearly noticed something.
“I know,” Pervoick said, continuing. “I didn’t catch it at first either.”
“But the Chief agreed this would be a chance for the youth to prove themselves.”
“What do you expect me to do? I told him the same thing.”
“And now he wants us to train him?”
“I don’t know. We’ll just let him tag along.”
The stranger’s face puffed up in frustration. “I’m right here, you know! I don’t get why you assume I can’t handle myself—but I’ll have you know, I’m on my way to becoming a great hero!”
“Good for you,” Slye replied, brushing him off. Still, his eyes lingered on the bandage wrapped around the man's arm. “What happened to your arm? Poison get you?”
“Uhhh...” The outsider hesitated, clearly scrambling for a lie. “It’s... sensitive.”
Sil stormed up to them. “Don’t lie, newcomer! We can smell lies.”
The blond man didn’t react with fear the way Sil had hoped—only mild confusion. She turned to Pervoick.
“Why’ve you been on my case about teamwork if you're just going to add someone without stealth blood to the team!?”
“Quiet,” Pervoick said sharply. “This was the Chief’s call, and we’ll have to live with it. Be grateful he didn’t replace anyone.”
The stranger raised a hand. “I can find blood. Any kind—just tell me where to look.”
Slye chuckled dryly. “That won’t be possible. Though I do appreciate your willingness to follow orders.”
The stranger grinned. “Maybe it’s not possible, but those are the best kinds of tasks, aren’t they?”
“Aye,” Pervoick agreed. “Right you are, fellow. But that’s not what Sil meant. You need to carry the blood of our ancestors to learn our ways of combat.”
“How do you know I don’t have it?” the stranger asked.
“Perhaps you do,” Pervoick replied. “But the only way to find out would be through a year or more of training. And even then, you might receive the answer you fear most: that no, you cannot learn the ways of stealth.”
The stranger’s enthusiasm faded. He turned to watch the village students training—some of them conjuring bandages like the ones he’d seen before.
“Don’t be discouraged,” Slye said. “You’ve already come a long way with your aura. Use this time to practice the basics.”
The stranger looked up at the round man with a furrowed brow.
“Pervoick,” Slye asked, “this boy does have knowledge of mana manipulation, right?”
“Maybe I do,” the stranger said. “Tell me what it is—and maybe I’ll know for sure.”
Slye looked to his training allies in disbelief, then back at his new student.
“Have you ever felt so passionate that your whole body began to tingle—like a warmth had started to hold you?”
The stranger lightly brushed his right forearm—the one wrapped in a bandage.
“If you ever have, that was probably your aura, blazing with passion alongside you. That, or you caught something—but I figure you’d know if that were the case.
Mana clings to you like rain filling a bucket. It flows through all things. It connects us spiritually. And like a friend, we can rely on it to help us. That is your aura.”
It had been a long time since Sil had heard mana and aura described in such grandiose terms. To her, aura was like a third arm—always there, always connected.
Yet after all her years of training, when she scanned this nobody, she sensed—almost effortlessly—an overwhelming aura that rivaled her own… perhaps even surpassed it.
She would have thought he was playing dumb, if not for the fact that his aura undulated like a roaring, untamed flame.
“Yeah. I know what you mean,” the stranger replied, now gripping his arm.
“Good, because you happen to have a lot of mana,” Slye continued. “A lot—and it’s high quality. I doubt you’ve never trained it, even if you didn’t realize what it was.”
The stranger nodded politely.
“Thought so. Alright, let’s get some distance from everyone.”
Slye gave an inviting gesture and led the stranger toward the forest—where they’d be safer. An untrained aura like that could wreak havoc in a crowded space like the training grounds.
“What’s his name?” Sil asked.
“Yig,” Pervoick replied. “Was wandering through the woods and ran into a bear. Idiot could’ve gotten himself killed.”
Sil nudged her friend playfully. “Did you save him?” she asked in a high-pitched, teasing voice.
“My team happened to be nearby. Why—is that so bad?”
“Not at all. Did you find out how he got into the woods?”
“He’s from Chestnut.”
“Why’s he even here, then? Unless… is he like—?”
“He left the village to become a hero. That and his sword are the only things he shares with that man.”
Pervoick started walking over to the other Stearna to see if he could be of any help. He was the team captain, after all.
“The guy seems eager to learn,” Sil said before he left.
“Let’s hope he keeps it up.”
