The first rays of Tianyang spilled gently over the rooftops of the Tenkai Orrion clan, bathing stone and crystals in pale gold. Morning mist curled low along the ground, whispering like untold tales through the leaves. A sacred hush lingered across the path from the Astarlyn estate to the Great Council Hall.
Azaryel stepped out in his simple white robes, his green eyes calm, though still shadowed by a flicker of uncertainty yet they were steady. Behind him walked Elarinya and Drayelion in quiet pride. Aokiran and Xentharya flanked him like silent shadows offering strength without words.
The Great Council Estate rose like a sentinel carved from the mountain itself. To its back stretched the vast Thornwild Sanctuary, ancient and alive. To the left of the mountain, the sea whispered against the stone cliffs. To the right, the seven peaks reached skyward, each taller than the last. It was here that the elders resided. It was here that the Grand Library and Clan Treasury were housed.
Midway up the steps, Aelthira Tenkai, the Grand Chair, descended to greet them, her robes catching the light.
Azaryel bowed deeply. His parents followed suit. Elarinya placed a hand on his shoulder before stepping back. Drayelion rested a hand on his back firm, reassuring. Aokiran and Xentharya gave a smile of encouragement.
The Grand Chair extended a hand. "Come, Azaryel. Let's get going."
He stepped forward, walking beside her up the stone steps. His feet made no sound as he walked. At the top, the heavy doors of the Council Hall opened with a low groan.
Inside, four seated elders waited, each upon crescent thrones carved from mountain stone. Simple. Unadorned. Timeless.
Sometimes, simplicity is all that's needed. It's often the simplest things that speak the loudest. No need for grand gestures or gilded thrones just quiet grace which would speaks volumes without ever trying too hard.
The elder in the centre Olorun Tenkai rose.
An older man with silver-streaked braids and eyes like still water. He descended from his seat and stood before Azaryel. Then, with quiet dignity, he cupped the boy's hands in his.
"Worry not, child," he said, his voice low yet kind. "Everyone has their own path to walk, and all are afraid to take that first step into the unknown. But remember this—every step you take makes the roots of our clan tremble with pride. You are not alone. Should your heart ever falter," his gaze held firm, unwavering, "we will be the echo that guides you."
Azaryel nodded slowly, his throat too tight for words.
The other elders offered no speech. They simply nodded, smiling. Elder Olorun had said what needed to be said. Anything more would only dull the moment.
The Grand Chair placed a hand on Azaryel's shoulder. "It is time."
The far end of the hall opened. Beyond it, the forest path awaited, serene and alive.
Azaryel turned once more. His family stood at the threshold, watching.
Then he took deep breathe and walked into the forest path following the grand chair
The great doors closed behind them.
The forest greeted them with a shifting hush. Light dappled through leaves, just enough to see by. The mist retreated before their steps.
Azaryel's brow furrowed. "The forest is… guiding us?"
Aelthira smiled. "This forest is as old as time itself, child. It has a will of its own."
His eyes widened. "But… we hunt here. Doesn't that anger it?"
Her voice was patient, knowing. "It would, only if we broke its laws. Why do you think we only hunt in the west and south? Why we never cross into the core ring? It's not that we lack strength. It's that we honour the pact."
She glanced at him. "And do you know why we do not hunt young beasts? Or mothers who have recently birthed?"
Azaryel shook his head.
"Because the forest watches. It remembers. Mercy is strength. Respect for the weak today may save you when they rise stronger tomorrow."
Azaryel absorbed her words in silence. The quiet wisdom sank deep into his young heart.
The mist parted before them once more, and a clearing opened.
Before them stretched a serene lake, silvered by early light.