The morning mist curled through the mountains like drifting souls.
Farhan woke with his heart pounding — sweat clinging to his skin, breath ragged.
He had dreamed again.
A vast sky burning red.
Nine silhouettes dancing in the storm.
A voice calling his name in a language older than time.
> "Farhan… open your eyes."
He sat up, clutching his chest. The ache from last night's pain still lingered — but faintly, beneath it, there was something alive.
A hum.
A heartbeat that wasn't his own.
---
Scene 1 – The Morning after the Storm
At the training courtyard, disciples were already assembled.
Blades gleamed under the sun as Zarek demonstrated a new sword form.
The air shimmered with energy — each swing carving wind currents like rippling waves.
> "Feel the flow," Zarek's voice rang out, calm but firm. "The sword is not your weapon. It's your will given form."
Farhan stood at the back again, unnoticed. His limbs still ached, but something inside him pushed him to stay.
Zarek turned — his gaze brushing past him briefly. "Farhan. Step forward."
A few murmurs rose.
> "Him? Again?"
"He'll just embarrass himself."
Farhan hesitated but obeyed.
Zarek extended a practice sword toward him.
> "Attack me."
Farhan's fingers trembled as he grasped the hilt. "I… I'll try."
> "Don't try," Zarek said softly. "Just move."
Farhan swung.
A weak motion — slow, uncertain. Zarek blocked it effortlessly.
> "Again."
Clash.
Block.
Parry.
Every strike met air.
Varian, watching from afar, smirked. "Still pathetic."
But on the next swing — something strange happened.
The moment Farhan's blade neared Zarek, a faint red spark burst from his hand.
It was small — a flicker — but everyone saw it.
The courtyard fell silent.
Farhan stared at his own hand, eyes wide. "What… was that?"
Zarek's gaze sharpened. For a brief moment, his calm face shifted — surprise, maybe even recognition.
But before he could speak, the spark vanished, and Farhan collapsed to his knees. His body trembled violently, mana surging out of control.
Zarek caught him before he hit the ground.
> "Enough," he said quietly to the watching disciples. "The training ends here."
He carried Farhan off the field, ignoring the whispers that followed.
---
Scene 2 – The Patriarch's Shadow
Far above, from the balcony of the upper tower, Volcan Inari watched everything.
His crimson eyes followed Farhan's fading figure, and for the first time in years, his gaze lingered.
> "A spark," murmured one of the elders beside him. "It could have been a fluctuation of mana."
Volcan's voice was deep, steady. "No. That was not mana."
> "Then what was it, Patriarch?"
Volcan's expression hardened. "Something that should have never awakened."
He turned away, the wind catching his cloak.
"Keep it quiet. Not a word to anyone."
The elder bowed deeply. "Yes, Patriarch."
As Volcan left, his steps echoed down the marble hall — heavy, thoughtful, burdened.
> "If his blood truly stirs… then the seal is weakening faster than I thought."
---
Scene 3 – Beneath the Willow Tree
Farhan woke later in the infirmary.
Sunlight filtered through paper screens, and the faint scent of herbs filled the air.
His mother, Amla, sat beside him, crushing herbs in a bowl.
When she saw him stir, relief softened her face.
> "You scared me, my son."
Farhan's voice was weak. "I… lost control."
Amla smiled faintly. "Control means nothing when power has a will of its own."
He frowned. "Mother… something's wrong with me. I saw… a light. I heard a voice. It felt… alive."
Amla paused her hands. Her eyes grew distant, old memories flickering in their depths.
> "When I was young," she said softly, "I saw your father once unleash his true form. The air trembled. The world bent before him. That same light was in his eyes."
Farhan blinked. "Father? True form?"
She placed a hand on his cheek, her voice barely a whisper.
> "The Inari blood is not just power, Farhan. It is a promise — and a curse."
Before he could ask more, the door slid open.
Zarek stood there.
His expression unreadable, but his tone softer than usual.
> "Rest for now. You'll need your strength tomorrow."
> "For what?" Farhan asked, confused.
Zarek's gaze turned toward the mountain horizon.
> "Father has ordered you to attend the Trial of the Moon."
Farhan froze. "The Trial? But… only those above 2 Stars—"
> "I know." Zarek's voice was quiet. "That's why I told you to rest."
---
Scene 4 – The Trial of the Moon (Foreshadow)
That night, the clan prepared for the ancient ceremony.
Torches burned crimson across the mountaintop.
The moon above glowed blood-red — an omen seen once every century.
Farhan stood alone at the base of the stairs leading to the sacred altar.
He could feel the eyes of the clan watching from above — judging, whispering, waiting for him to fail.
In the wind, a faint whisper brushed against his ear.
> "Farhan… remember the pain."
His heartbeat quickened.
The same voice from his dreams.
The same power from the waterfall.
The air shimmered.
His shadow shifted — for a fraction of a second, nine faint tails flickered behind him before fading into mist.
Farhan's breath trembled.
He didn't know what was happening…
But deep down, a whisper echoed from the depths of his soul:
> "The blood of the fox does not die… it awakens when the heavens call."
---