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Darkness.
Kaelen drifted, weightless, to a place he didn't know but felt oddly familiar.
Then… thorel — soulfire — gentle, flickering. It was blue.
It didn't burn loudly, but it heated Kaelen's soul.
Then a voice whispered, low as wind through ancient trees:
"Vel'an Ashari thorel…
The Oath is the Flame…"
Kaelen stood barefoot on cool stone. The air smelled of old earth and ash. Shapes moved at the edge of sight — tall, cloaked figures — shadows of the Vel'Ashari.
One stepped closer. Its face was hidden, but its iris glowed with soulfire blue — deep as sapphire, and its voice was sorrowful.
"Tal'shae, Kaelen. Tal'shae nai zhen…"
Wait with sorrow, Kaelen. Wait for life's breath…
The dream shifted. He stood before a great tree — its bark silver, its leaves glowing faintly with firelight. Whispers filled the air.
"Vel'asha lorin… thorel vel'…"
Sacred light… sacred flame…
Another figure spoke, this one softer, familiar. His father's voice?
"Al'varesh kaen… Shaelan nai zhen…"
Fight bound in blood… Guardian of life…
Kaelen reached for the voice — but the tree's light dimmed. Cold touched his skin.
Then the last voice — familiar, quiet, warm — whispered close to his ear:
"Shaelan nai zhen... Al'varesh kaen..."
Defender of life... fight bound in blood...
The tree burst into soulfire, casting the world into light — and Kaelen gasped awake.
He was drenched in sweat, and his mind — his mind was filled with questions like a puzzle with all the pieces scattered — and some pieces missing.
He considered asking the Masters, but quickly discarded the thought. Not them, not at all.
He lay back and stared at the ceiling from his bunk, lost in thought, until sunlight began peeking through the window.
---
"Kaelen, Master Brann needs you and Soren in the dueling room," a boy said.
Kaelen looked up to see a tall boy; he looked beaten up, with a deep gash that was bleeding profusely above his left eye.
"Alright," Kaelen replied to the boy.
He stood up slowly from his bunk. Why does Master Brann need me? And where is Soren?
"Anyone seen Soren?" Kaelen asked loud enough for the room to hear.
"He went to see his mate that's leaving," the boy whose bunk was directly opposite his replied. "He said to tell you when you are back."
"Well, thanks for telling," Kaelen replied, sarcasm in his tone. "Did he say the boy's name?"
"Yeah, Tavin, the senior," the boy replied.
Kaelen knew Tavin. Soren told him they were captured and brought here together. He remembered Soren saying that Tavin had been bought.
Yes, bought.
That is what this place is: a training camp to raise perfect weapons, who are later sold to warlords or kings to be used as weapons of war.
Soren's mate has been bought and Soren had gone to say goodbye.
---
"Soren, I was coming to the seniors deck," Kaelen said. He had met Soren on his way.
"He's gone. Let's head back," Soren said plainly.
"We can't. Master Brann called for us," Kaelen replied.
"Why?" Soren asked, visibly shocked.
"I don't know, he just called," Kaelen said.
"Let's go then," Soren said.
---
The dueling room was a round room; the walls bent towards the ceiling, and they all converged at the apex, creating a pointed roof. The ground was stained with dried blood, depicting the number of battles that had occurred in this room.
Master Brann stood alone in the center of the room as Kaelen entered, Soren behind him.
"Pick your weapon, boys," Master Brann said, his voice toneless. But the smirk was on his face again.
The boys moved to the weapon wall on the left side of the room. Kaelen picked twin short blades; he had grown accustomed to this choice of weapon — it felt natural to him and his style of fighting.
Soren, on the other hand, picked a single combat sword.
"You are going to battle each other," Master Brann said.
The boys smiled at each other. They had done this with each other a lot of times. They knew each other's combat style.
Kaelen had developed a fast-paced attack system as a result of his natural speed. He moved swiftly, adding an unpredictable combo of attacks, and he was very agile. He watched Soren pick his typical long sword.
The boys stood facing each other, battle-ready, eyes locked in, waiting for the command to start.
"Only one of you leaves alive," Master Brann, now standing by the side, said.
"What?" both of the boys said together, eyes wide — shock visible on their faces.
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