Chapter 10: Silent Storm
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The moon hung high and cold in the ink-black sky.
Ashen stood quietly among the group of students assembled at the academy gates. The final preparations for the Trial were complete. Each participant had been given a basic map, a timepiece, and a small spirit pouch for collecting the Nightshade Blossoms.
Instructor Lin addressed them one last time.
"Remember," his voice was grave, carrying across the courtyard, "the Forest of Echoes can disorient even the most seasoned cultivators. Trust your instincts. If you encounter anything abnormal, retreat immediately."
Some students nodded solemnly. Others, fueled by ambition, smirked with reckless eagerness.
Ashen remained still, his expression unreadable.
His heart was calm. Beneath that surface, however, the newly awakened power in his soul stirred faintly — not loudly, not violently, but like a tide gathering strength far beneath the water.
Soon.
Instructor Lin waved his hand.
"Go."
The students surged forward, some forming quick alliances, others racing ahead to claim glory alone.
Ashen didn't rush.
He slipped into the flow of bodies like a shadow, neither too fast nor too slow, unnoticed amid the excitement.
Just as he preferred.
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The Forest of Echoes loomed ahead, a living wall of twisted trees and mist. Stepping across its threshold was like entering another world. The air grew heavier, saturated with a damp, earthy scent. Ghostly whispers — tricks of the wind and the forest's natural energy — brushed past Ashen's ears.
He moved carefully, eyes scanning the terrain.
The basic paths were easy enough to follow — clear markers set by previous expeditions — but he knew better than to trust anything too obviously laid out.
Already, smaller groups were branching off, vanishing into the deeper woods.
Ashen chose a narrow side trail, overgrown but navigable. Better to be alone than risk betrayal.
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Minutes blurred into hours.
Ashen pressed onward, navigating thickets and shallow streams, alert for both beasts and students.
It wasn't long before he encountered the first signs of danger.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from the bushes ahead.
Ashen froze, senses sharpening instinctively. Slowly, he crouched, gathering spiritual energy into his legs.
A pair of glowing eyes appeared — a forest wolf, mutated slightly by the Forest's chaotic energy. Its fur was matted, its teeth unnaturally long.
Ashen narrowed his gaze.
A test.
He didn't want unnecessary fights, but avoiding every beast was impossible. If he couldn't even handle a low-grade threat, how could he survive what lay ahead?
The wolf lunged.
Ashen moved — fluid, precise.
Dodging to the side, he struck with a focused palm to the wolf's flank. The impact wasn't strong enough to kill, but it staggered the beast, sending it crashing into a tree.
Without hesitation, Ashen turned and slipped deeper into the forest, leaving the dazed creature behind.
Conserve energy. Minimize noise. Never linger.
Principles of survival — now etched into his bones.
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Hours passed.
Ashen finally stumbled upon a small clearing bathed in silver moonlight.
In its center, growing from a cracked stone, was a Nightshade Blossom.
A rare flower with petals blacker than midnight, emitting a faint, toxic glow.
Ashen's heart quickened.
He approached cautiously, wary of traps. Nightshade Blossoms often attracted predators or guardians.
Circling the clearing, he spotted it — half-buried beneath leaves: a serpent-like beast, camouflaged perfectly against the dark soil.
If he had rushed forward recklessly, he would've been ambushed.
Ashen picked up a pebble and tossed it toward the flower.
The ground exploded as the serpent lunged, missing the projectile by a hair's breadth. Its body was thick and armored, its fangs dripping with venom.
Ashen's eyes sharpened.
There was no avoiding this one.
The serpent coiled and struck again — lightning-fast.
Ashen sidestepped narrowly, feeling the whoosh of air against his cheek. He countered with a swift punch to the beast's exposed eye.
A sickening squelch.
The serpent shrieked and recoiled.
Seizing the moment, Ashen darted forward, grabbed the Nightshade Blossom in a swift motion, and rolled away before the serpent could retaliate.
The spirit pouch at his waist pulsed as the flower was safely stored inside.
Mission complete.
Now, he only needed to return.
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But fate, as always, had other plans.
As he turned to leave, three figures stepped from the shadows, blocking his path.
Dairon.
And two of his cronies.
Ashen's face remained passive, but inside, a cold alertness settled over him.
"So generous of you to do the hard work for us," Dairon said, smirking, his hand resting casually on the hilt of a short blade. "Hand it over."
Ashen said nothing.
His body shifted slightly, adopting a defensive posture, almost unnoticeable to an untrained eye.
Dairon's smile widened.
"You think you can fight us all?"
Ashen's mind raced.
Direct confrontation would be reckless. Even if the dragon's dormant power gave him an edge, he wasn't invincible — not yet. The forest itself could be his ally if he played it smart.
The serpent, enraged by the earlier injury, reemerged from the shadows behind him, its hiss like a boiling kettle.
Ashen didn't hesitate.
He stepped aside.
The serpent, seeing multiple targets clustered together, lunged — but not at him.
Chaos erupted.
The two cronies shrieked as the serpent crashed into them. Dairon cursed, slashing wildly to defend himself.
Ashen used the distraction to melt into the trees.
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He ran — weaving through roots and branches, ears sharp for pursuit.
He could hear Dairon's enraged shouting fading behind him.
When he finally slowed, Ashen found himself at the edge of a rocky outcrop overlooking a shallow ravine.
Breathing hard but steady, he allowed himself a small, grim smile.
First trial survived.
But deep inside, he knew this was just the beginning.
The academy, the Forest, Dairon — these were small storms.
Greater tempests awaited beyond the horizon.
And with every beat of that slumbering heart within him, Ashen could feel it:
His true journey had barely begun.
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