Kaelen eyes opened slowly.
His eyes were heavy. He studied where he was slowly,his eyes moving around.
The room was square and really wide. The celling was unusually high — higher than what he was used to. The walls were tall curving upwards to meet the ceiling.The left wall was stacked with rows of herbs, potions vials and knifes — small knifes used for carving
There was something about the smell. The room had a dull smell of blood and herbs — like where life met with death.
Where am I He asked himself
He tried to sit upright on the wooden bed he had been lying on.
"You shouldn't move yet," a voice said from across the room — male, quiet, and controlled.
Kaelen turned his head slightly. A man stood by a table, grinding something in a bowl.
Kaelen's lips were dry, his voice barely a whisper. "Where… am I?"
No response. The man just kept grinding.
"Drink this" The man said "It'll give you some of your strength back".
Kaelen's eyes widened slightly after drinking, He could speak more clearly now. "I was… looking for Thorn."
The man paused. His hands stilled. "Thorn?" he repeated, tone unreadable.
"Yes… he… he owes my father." Kaelen coughed weakly. "He said Thorn would help me."
A long silence followed. Then, the man gave a short exhale.
"You're late," he said. "Thorn's been dead five winters."
Kaelen stared up at the ceiling. The words sank like stones.
"But his name carries weight," the man continued. "And you said it. That's the only reason you're alive right now."
"Who's your father" The man asked, finally looking at him.
"Jael" The boy replied, his voice shaky. It all came back to him.
The fire.
The horror,the death — his father's death.
He remembered his cold body as he held his hands during the final moment. And his final words, he couldn't forget his father's final words.
He was going to live by them —he was going to survive.
He made that promise to himself.
"And where's Jael now. Dead?" the man asked calmly.
The words hit the boy like a hammer blow to his chest. He couldn't reply, he just nodded slowly.
The man studied the boy for a while as if measuring him.
"Come with me" He said after a while "the 12 masters would see you now"
----
Kaelen stood in the center of a wide, dark chamber.
The walls curved overhead, lit only by torches that burned low and steady — casting long shadows that danced along the stone. Twelve figures sat before him, cloaked in half-darkness. They sat apart, each in their own carved seat, like statues from some old myth,just silent with watching eyes.
Kaelen swallowed hard.
Who was my father… really?
Because only someone important could command the attention of these men. Only a name like Jael's could open doors in a place like this.
But standing here, that didn't make him feel safer. Only smaller.
"You say your father was Jael?" one of the figures asked, voice low, sharp like a blade through still air.
Kaelen nodded, his voice quiet. "Yes"
"And you came here alone?"
"Yes…"
Another voice — unimpressed — muttered, "Jael was a traitor. He left."
A third, steady and colder: "Or maybe he ran."
The air shifted, like the room itself was judging him. Measuring him.
Kaelen's hands clenched at his sides.
"He… he died protecting me," he said softly. "And before he did… he told me to come here. To find Thorn."
That name dropped into the silence like a stone into still water.
One of the masters — a woman this time — tilted her head. "You speak the name like it matters to you."
Kaelen looked up, not with pride, but with something deeper. "It does. He said Thorn owed him. And I… I owe him everything."
"He almost died protecting Thorn anyways". The woman voice said again
A flicker moved through the room. Maybe respect. Maybe doubt. But the silence that followed was different — not just tense now, but heavy, curious.
Then the tallest master stood. He stepped forward,moving closer to Kaelen as he brought his cloak down, revealing a face carved with old scars.
"You have no name here. No safety. No family," he said. "Only the strong survive here."
Kaelen's voice came quiet, but clear:
"I know. And I won't run." And he lifted up his eyes to meet the man's gaze
A pause.
Then the man nodded once.
"Begin his training. If he breaks, bury him. If he survives… sharpen him."
----
Days passed — or maybe weeks. Time was slippery here, like the wind in the high valleys, always moving.
Here,they didn't care who you were before. They only cared whether you woke up still breathing.
Kaelen learned that on the first morning. And the second. And every one after.
The boy who had arrived with trembling hands was gone. Replaced by someone harder. Not stronger yet — but more aware. His muscles ached, his bruises bloomed daily, but something in his eyes had changed.
Resolve lived there now.
The training grounds were brutal. The kind of place designed not just to break your body, but to rip open the fear inside you and make you look at it.
Boys not much older than him swung blades half their weight. Fought blindfolded. Climbed walls with bloodied fingers. Some quit. Some vanished. No one asked questions.
Kaelen didn't speak much. He listened. Watched. Bled.Got up
He just fought harder every passing day.
---