Kael exhaled, drawing the final threads of chilled energy back into his core.
Seven full cycles. That was all he could manage today.
Any more, and his veins would rupture again. He'd already survived that agony once.
It had been six months since he arrived at Verdant Hollow. Most other apprentices had taken their trial weeks ago. Only a handful had passed. The rest were quietly reassigned to outer branches of the Celestbound Covenant—a soft dismissal wrapped in ceremony.
Kael and Bren were different. Their test wasn't measured in cuts or bruises, but in breath and will. Their only weapon: the Nameless Incantation.
At first, Kael believed effort alone would carry him.
He practiced daily. Repeated the breathing forms. Sat through long hours of mental silence. But after three months of relentless dedication, his progress was… dismal. Others who practiced flashy methods like Sunroot Flow could leap rooftops or punch through walls.
Kael?
He could barely coax a trickle of that cold internal energy—vague, fleeting, and fragile.
Worse, Master Elric offered no guidance. No corrections. No encouragement. He simply observed from the shadows, flipping through ancient scrolls or lost in thought.
Kael nearly gave up.
The shame gnawed at him. Maybe he wasn't meant for this path. Maybe the trial had only delayed his failure.
Then, one quiet evening, as Kael sat outside the cottage with sore joints and a bruised ego, Bren spoke without looking up:
"I've felt nothing. Not even a flicker. But I'm still trying."
Kael turned toward him, stunned.
He'd always assumed Bren—sturdy, cheerful, tireless—was ahead. That he was just too polite to say so.
But now he knew.
Bren was struggling too.
That night, Kael made a silent vow:
He would not fall behind.
He rose earlier. Slept in a meditative crouch. Ate only the bare minimum to keep functioning. When his muscles screamed, he kept still. When his thoughts scattered, he silenced them.
His body shook. His mind frayed. But the results came—slowly, then steadily.
His senses grew keener. His breath no longer faltered. And the cold thread within?
It began to respond.
Not with fire. Not with brilliance.
But with endurance.
All the while, Master Elric remained unchanged. Still watching. Still silent. Still turning pages of The Long Way of Life, a tome as old as the stones beneath their feet.
Kael wasn't sure what immortality looked like.
But he was beginning to understand what it cost.