The northern plateau awoke in a muted glow, the sun rising slowly, casting long shadows across jagged stones and hidden fissures. Ethan Sixx moved with the ease of one who had come to know every crack, every ledge, every whisper of wind along the cliffs. The crystal fragment in his pocket pulsed faintly, a quiet warmth that had become his silent companion over the past days.
Kael Veylan followed, maintaining a careful distance, his scowl deeper than usual. "You're impossible," he muttered. "The plateau isn't a playground. The wind shifts, stones crumble, and one wrong step…"
Ethan glanced back at him, a faint smile on his lips. "I am aware. That is why I do not rush. Patience is often more important than strength."
Kael huffed but said nothing more. He had long since realized that words could not sway Ethan. Instead, he focused on observing, noting how Ethan moved with a precision and grace that no ordinary disciple could achieve. Something was awakening in the boy—a rhythm, an instinct, a subtle connection to the world around him that defied explanation.
They reached a ridge narrower than usual, a stretch of stone that rose like a thin spine over the abyss below. The mist swirled ominously, and the wind tugged at their cloaks as if testing their balance. Ethan crouched slightly, placing his hands lightly on the stone, feeling the subtle vibrations beneath his fingertips.
The crystal fragment pulsed warmer, responding to the faint tremor in the plateau. Ethan closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in rhythm with the wind, letting the faint pulse of energy thread through his awareness.
Kael tensed beside him. "You really trust that thing to guide you?"
Ethan's gaze remained on the ridge ahead. "It is not guidance. It is awareness. The plateau has a rhythm. One must learn to follow it rather than resist it."
A small rock shifted under Kael's foot, nearly sending him over the edge. Ethan reacted instantly, a subtle shift in his balance countering Kael's stumble without touching him. The ridge steadied, and Kael blinked, dumbfounded.
"How…?" he asked, voice tight.
Ethan shrugged faintly. "Listening. Observing. Responding. Nothing more."
They pressed on, and soon Ethan spotted the familiar fissure that had pulsed with red light before. Today, it shimmered faintly again, a whisper of its presence. He crouched, examining the crack with a careful eye. The crystal fragment warmed noticeably, pulsing as if in recognition.
Kael leaned in, brow furrowed. "It's reacting to you. I've never seen a fissure do that."
Ethan did not answer, extending his senses subtly, brushing against the faint energy within the fissure. The resonance was quiet, almost imperceptible, yet unmistakable. The plateau seemed to acknowledge his presence, offering him a challenge, though one he could not yet fully comprehend.
From deep within the crack, a faint glow shimmered—a soft scarlet light that pulsed in rhythm with the crystal fragment. It called to him, subtly, a whisper beyond the mist, hinting at power hidden in the cliffs, waiting for one patient enough to notice.
A sudden shadow swept across the plateau, and Ethan looked up to see the hawk descending again. Its wings spread wide as it landed on a narrow ledge, eyes sharp and unblinking, fixed on him. The air around it seemed charged, subtle ripples moving through the mist as though the bird itself was part of the unseen energies in the plateau.
Kael shifted uneasily. "It's just a bird," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Ethan's gaze remained on the hawk. "Nothing is ever just what it seems," he murmured. The creature tilted its head, studying him, then took flight, vanishing into the morning mist. The echo of its cry lingered, resonant and haunting, a reminder that the plateau held eyes and forces beyond mortal comprehension.
By evening, they returned to the sect's compound, the sun casting long shadows across stone walls and training courtyards. Whispers followed their path—stories of Ethan Sixx, the boy who moved as though the cliffs themselves obeyed him, and of the faint red shimmer that pulsed in the fissures. Even among the elders, subtle glances passed, silent acknowledgments of the unusual boy whose presence seemed to awaken something old and patient.
Master Korrath observed from his high chair, expression unreadable. There was promise in Ethan, yes—but also unpredictability. The mountain had begun to stir something within him, something beyond the normal progression of Mortal Body disciples.
Ethan returned to his quarters, sitting quietly beside the crystal fragment. Its warmth pulsed softly, in tune with the rhythm of his heartbeat. Outside, the wind carried faint whispers from the cliffs, shadows shifting quietly among the peaks.
He did not yet understand the scope of what was awakening within him, nor the secrets of the plateau, but he felt the stirrings of something greater—a force ancient, patient, and quietly observing him.
And somewhere, beyond the cliffs and mists, a scarlet shimmer pulsed again, a quiet acknowledgment of the boy who was slowly, inexorably beginning to awaken.