✧ ✧ ✧
Ah, a cold winter. The kind that freezes you to the bone, as if the whole world decided to throw on a white blanket, almost like nature's little joke.
The Valerian mountains, tall and imposing, towered above everything, like giants who had never known what a 'lazy day' was.
This world, so vast and… dramatic, right? Here, the elements don't just shape the land; they shape the fate of the people too.
The clans, those ancient groups that have survived since the first humans decided to make a name for themselves under the stars, have been around for centuries, like they're the only thing that never changes. Sure, the countries have changed—that's clear—but the clans… they're still at it, doing their thing.
The ancient times, who doesn't remember them? The shadows of those founders still seem to stalk us, as if their decisions are the ones passing on the weight of the future: peace or destruction? No one knows. But let's be honest, things haven't been so calm lately, and that peace they sold us centuries ago… well, let's just say it's more of a pretty idea in a history book.
The clans, which once seemed perfectly balanced for centuries, are on the verge of falling off a cliff. And as if that wasn't enough, the winds of war are picking up, as if someone likes to make noise.
Every element, every nation, seems to be fighting not just for power, but for something more basic: survival. In this chaos, the Lysae—this mysterious power the gods gave us at the beginning of time—has the ability to change reality itself. A small detail, right?
And amidst all this, there was a clan called Valeryon. Well, if you call 'existing' the fact that they've been around since the ancient times, as old as the creation of this country. Yeah, it's been so long that even the books don't quite agree on how it all started. Men and gods, walking together, almost like co-workers, until the Valeryon decided to make their appearance. They weren't royalty, but they were involved in everything, like the stones in the shoe of the big nobles.
From this lineage, at some point, someone would be born. Don't ask me if it was by luck or disaster, but this person would end up having a future somewhat different from the others.
Of course, they weren't the only ones. The Valeryon had five houses—subclans, if you want to be precise—that spread under their banner. Each house marked its own with the elemental gift the gods had blessed them with. The gods: Sun, lord of fire and will, always so fiery and determined; Valko, guardian of earth and duty, as unyielding as the rocks; Domio, spirit of water and balance, calm and deep; Metis, lady of air and fair judgment, light as the wind but always precise; and Alphonis, master of lightning and change, unpredictable and, at times, destructive. Each house represented a fragment of these powerful beings, a different root from the same ancient tree, with a common purpose… or so the old sages said.
But of course, not all the clans shared that view of the world. Not everyone wanted to be under the same sky. And no matter how hard they tried, the differences were always there, like a cloud that refuses to disappear.
Far from all those power games and harmony, the snow fell less elegantly. The wind howled with a fury that seemed to herald something bad. As if it was announcing that the worst was yet to come.
The strange part wasn't what it did, but what followed after. At least, that's what they told me years later. They say someone climbed the thousand steps with heavy footsteps, covered by a black cloak soaked in rain. In their arms, a baby, wrapped carefully, asleep, unaware of the fate awaiting them.
When they reached the altar of the temple, one of the monks intercepted them.
—You can't just leave it here —the monk said firmly, but without raising his voice.
The man lowered his gaze, not removing his hood. He held it for a second… and then whispered:
—There's no other place. If it stays with me, it will die.
The monk fell silent, reading something in that hidden face he didn't quite understand, but that weighed heavily.
—Who is the child? —he finally asked.
—Someone… who deserves to live —the man replied, his voice trembling, drowning before it could break.
Then he placed the baby in the monk's arms and took a step back. He didn't wait for any comforting words. He simply turned around and descended without saying anything else.
And that moment, so small, so seemingly insignificant, was the beginning of it all. Sometimes I wonder if our story was already written then… or if it was just the first mistake we couldn't read. But well... that's another story, one I didn't see with my own eyes, of course. But I've heard that story so many times, I almost feel like I was there, listening to the first cry…
…mine.
⬧⬧⬧
Further south, from the sky shining a deep blue, a city could be seen where the murmurs of the people echoed everywhere. Happiness filled the very foundations of the settlement, as if the gods themselves were smiling from above.
Then, a scream was heard.
Not one of fear. But of life.
In one of the houses, away from the central commotion, the cry of a newborn pierced the warm midday air.
— It's a boy! — exclaimed the woman, holding him with trembling hands and eyes full of awe — He has… he has the light in his gaze!
— Of course, we're talking about my son! — said the man, his heart in his throat, as if he could see the future through those eyes.
In this world, where eyes represented qualities, virtues, and above all, the true nature of a person, that child was born with a unique gaze. His eyes, two intertwined colors spiraling, showed a vibrant green like the living forests and a fiery red like the heart of the flame.
— But... isn't it strange that his eyes have these colors? — the woman exclaimed, surprised — I've only seen people with a single color. Your baby has two...
— I don't think I should worry about that — the man replied firmly, with a smile — It only means he will be someone important. Very important.
The woman held the little one gently in her arms, while the father looked at him with pride and emotion. The child's eyes, a spiraling blend of green and red, seemed alive, as if holding a dormant power.
— But… what name can we give him? — the mother asked softly, with a hint of unease — With those eyes… we can't distinguish his nature. I've never seen anything like it.
The old man, who had remained silent like a statue of wisdom, lifted his head. His voice, deep and firm, broke the stillness of the room like the creaking of an ancient tree in the wind.
— A long time ago… before the clans were divided and the mountains of Valeria were carved by fire and ice, there existed a man. They say many things about him… that he saved nations, that he challenged the heavens, that he walked where no one else returned. Some called him a hero, others, a mystery that never fully revealed itself. But there's one thing that never changed in any tale: his eyes... they carried the same spiral of colors that I now see in this child.
The old man leaned forward, gazing at the baby as if witnessing the return of a forgotten legend.
— That man was not named for his power, nor his lineage, but for what he inspired in the hearts of those who saw him. He was called Yorn Ardyntal, the one born of the intersection between will and chaos, the one who does not belong to a single path, but walks them all. Since then, anyone born with the eyes of two natures, whose destiny cannot be read by the wise, carries that surname. Not as an honor… but as a portent.
— Yorn Ardyntal… the first man to walk between fire and thunder, unafraid of either — the father said, raising the newborn in his arms with a mixture of reverence and love — His name still lives in the old songs, his feats carved in stone, and his words whispered by the winds of the world.
The old man nodded solemnly, watching the child's eyes swirl like the whirlwinds of destiny between red and green.
— And you, little one… you were not born with a single flame in your soul. Your gaze carries two colors, as if life itself refuses to categorize you. You are the reflection of something that escapes all logic… just like he was.
The father smiled, lowering his voice as he gazed tenderly at the child.
— You will be called Yeroy. Yeroy Ardyntal Valaryon. May your name be heard beyond the mountains, beyond the sea… and never be forgotten.
Every child born in Valeria receives a name and two surnames. The last one, "Valaryon," is shared by all who are born under the ancestral lineage of the main clan. The first one, however, represents the house to which they belong, determined by the element that awakens in their soul: fire, wind, water, earth, or lightning. But Yeroy… was different. "Ardyntal" did not come from any house. It was created in his honor, as a distant echo of that Hero whose eyes carried the same spiral of colors. A name born of memory, and given as an act of faith.
Thus, with each letter, his destiny was tied to the legend… even if the world did not yet know it.
Carefully, he took out a necklace wrapped in cloth. In its center, the engraved symbol of the clan: a star forged in two metals, one shining like the sun, the other dark like the night.
— Make this world, as vast as it is… seem like a mere grain of sand in the palms of your hands.
✧ ✧ ✧
14 years later...
The sun shone high above, bathing the training ground with its golden light, while a warm breeze stirred the leaves of the nearby trees. The air was charged with that lively energy that only the youngest could offer, and in the middle of the field, a small ruckus was unfolding.
I ran between the stone pillars, caring for nothing but the wind on my face. My hair, long and disheveled from sweat and running, moved in rhythm with my steps. At that moment, there was only the freedom of movement. My eyes, those two colors that never stopped clashing with each other, reflected all the impatience I carried inside, that mix of green and red that always ended up in a small chaos, when suddenly:
"You're going to pay for that, Yeroy!" shouted one of the disciples, clumsily chasing after me.
"But you can't even catch me, Darlon! You're running like you think the caramelized bread Yei made for you is about to be devoured by me!" I responded, laughing mockingly.
With a mischievous laugh, I dropped to the ground, rolling between the stones to barely dodge his attempt to catch me. My skin, pale but slightly sunburned, showed the marks of my years of outdoor training. At fourteen, I had already mastered the basics of combat, though my boundless energy always pushed me to test the limits... and get into trouble.
My training clothes, black as the night, clung to my agile body, marked by practice. The long sleeves, distinctive of the clan, fluttered with each movement. On my chest, the emblem of the Valaryon clan gleamed proudly, though now somewhat worn from constant use.
"You're not getting away this time!" shouted another disciple, leaping from a tree.
I spun just in time, dodging with a somersault. The second pursuer hit the ground with a grunt, while Darlon, panting, looked up with fury in his eyes.
"You can't run forever, tadpole!" he snarled through clenched teeth. "I've waited all day to try that caramelized bread!"
Then I stopped a few steps away, turning around with a crooked smile.
"So..." I said, playfully frowning, "I guess it's time for me to stop running, huh?"
My eyes shone. The green and red swirled as if expecting something more than just a simple joke.
I felt my eyes begin to glow a crimson red as I ran toward Darlon, who stared at me approaching rapidly, clenching his fist.
"I figured you'd do that," Darlon said, his frown deepening.
I threw the first punch, direct and fast, but Darlon dodged it with a slight tilt of his head. The air whistled between us as our fists kept aiming but failing to land. Every step, every twist, felt like part of a well-known dance.
"Faster, lightning!" Darlon taunted, barely avoiding a low sweep by a few centimeters.
"You think you're better just because you can see the currents?" I replied, with a half-smile, spinning around to throw an elbow that Darlon blocked with his forearm.
A jump back, then another exchange. The sound of my feet hitting the ground, of fabric rustling with each movement, was the only thing that could be heard. We weren't hitting each other, but the contact was close... too close for two kids.
"Enough!" boomed a deep voice from the back of the field.
We stopped instantly. I still had one leg in the air, and Darlon had his body slightly twisted to avoid a final strike.
From the shadow of a tree, a tall and robust man walked toward us. His hair was dark as coal, with a few gray strands that made it clear he was no stranger to experience. He wore the black tunic with silver edges, distinctive of the clan's elders.
"What are you two supposed to be doing?" he asked, his voice firm.
"Training... tactical, Major Solhen," Darlon replied, straightening up.
The man raised an eyebrow. "Tactical? Sure. And if I had dislocated your shoulder, would we call that 'a lesson in humility'?"
I looked down, but the smile was still there. I knew we weren't really in trouble... yet.
"If you have so much energy, follow me. There's something more useful you can do with those fast feet."
"Yes, sir!" we both exclaimed in unison.
"But putting aside your 'practice,'" Solhen pointed out, raising two fingers calmly, "I see you have continued with the exercises that Master Kerl left for you in the last class."
Solhen turned his gaze to Darlon.
"You, Darlon. You used unnecessary movements, but they were precise. Still need to polish it with practice, but I must say, it was an excellent defensive maneuver."
Then he turned toward me, with a slight frown.
"And you, Yeroy... what have I told you about causing trouble and running through the palace so indecently?" he sighed. "Though I must admit, your last attack was eye-catching... and very effective."
He looked at both of us with an arched eyebrow.
"I hope you still have energy to sweep the floor with those unnecessary but effective moves."
Solhen slowly turned and walked toward the training field's exit, leaving behind the echo of his calm voice.
"I'll see you in ten minutes with brooms in hand. Use the energy you used running around, and now put it to good use cleaning up this place."
I made a face and crossed my arms, looking at Darlon with resignation.
"See what you get with your clumsiness?" I said, holding back a smile.
"My clumsiness?! You're the one who stole the bread and ran off like a headless lizard!" Darlon shot back, brushing the dust off his clothes.
A little while later, the sun began to tilt, painting the sky with a soft amber. The brooms scraped the stone floor with an uneven rhythm, mixed with the crunch of dry leaves and the contained laughter between us.
"Hey, Yeroy..." Darlon began, breaking the comfortable silence, "Do you think we'll ever stop sweeping and get sent on missions outside the palace?"
"Of course. When Solhen goes blind and Kerl retires to live in a cave with mountain foxes," I replied with a mocking tone.
We both chuckled softly, but then, a sweet and calm voice rose behind us.
—"Talking badly about Master Kerl again? He wouldn't go with the foxes, the foxes would go with him."
They turned around, and there was Aethen, carrying a pile of branches with such a serene smile that one might forget he was one of the most skilled apprentices in the clan. His dark hair fell gently over his shoulders, and his gaze—always kind—hid something impossible to read. He was one of those who no one could ever tell what they really felt.
—"Aethen…" I said, raising an eyebrow. "Are you here to help us, or just to philosophize about animals and old men?"
Aethen shrugged with a light laugh.
—"I was supposed to train with the advanced class today, but I finished early... and I heard there was a philosophical sweeping meeting here."
The scene filled with laughter again. No one noticed that while we were talking, Aethen was staring at the clan symbol carved into the ground… with a barely perceptible gleam in his eyes. Just then, Dorim appeared, coming from the back of the courtyard with an amused smile on his face. He must have barely escaped punishment.
—"So, in the end, they gave you a hard time too, Darlon," he exclaimed, crossing his arms with a mocking tone.
—"You should help me, if you don't want me to tell Master Jorly who ate her plate of rice," Darlon replied, mischievously waving his broom.
—"You guys look like kids... no wonder you never win when you face me," Aethen said, chuckling quietly, almost without moving his lips.
Everyone laughed, but I changed the tone as I leaned my arms on the handle of his broom.
—"Seriously though... we have enough experience to go out and do missions, help people, bring in some money for the clan," I said, narrowing my eyes and looking toward the horizon. "Although, I'm sure the elders would just waste it anyway."
—"I want to go out and see the world. Don't you, Aethen?" I asked, turning my head toward him.
Aethen was silent for a moment, the clan symbol still reflecting in his pupils. Then he smiled, as if his answer wasn't as important as what was inside his head.
—"Maybe you're right, Yoy," Aethen responded with a serene, almost brotherly smile.
—"It's been a while since I started to believe that the practices here are falling beneath the table... and we need that table to move. To gain real experience, real battles," he added, his voice slightly agitated, as if a flame were beginning to ignite in his chest.
—"You know what? I'm going to talk to the Master. He's overprotecting us too much!" I exclaimed decisively, letting go of the broom like it was a sword.
—"At least finish sweeping, headless lizard," Darlon said, laughing mockingly as always.
A few meters away, hidden among the pillars of the old corridor, Master Solhen remained silent. The breeze barely moved his tunic, and his eyes rested on the boys with a mixture of nostalgia and attention.
—"These kids… they're growing faster than I expected," he murmured quietly, almost as if he didn't want to admit it even to himself. "Their words carry dreams… and contained anger. Is it time to let them fly? Or have they still not seen how high the sky is… and how strongly the wind blows up there?"
Solhen gently gripped his staff, then lifted his gaze toward the carvings on the ceiling, where the clan emblem seemed to gaze back at him.
—"I'll have to talk to the other masters and start the condecorative test... at least, to prove they're ready…"
And with that, he turned slowly and disappeared into the hallways, like a shadow watching over a fire that has not yet been unleashed.
Later, during sunset, when the sky turned to a nostalgic amber and the shadows of the towers stretched over the clan's courtyards, I was walking to my room with the broom on my shoulder and dusty feet.
It was then that I heard a crackling voice behind me.
—"Brother!" a smaller figure shouted, with bright eyes and a contagious smile. "Are you going to help me with my practice today?"
I turned just in time to receive the enthusiastic jump of my younger brother, Aron, a year younger, but with double the energy.
—"I've learned how to make a lightning sword!" Aron said, raising his hand as if the weapon were going to materialize right there. "But my teacher says it's dangerous if I handle it carelessly... So I thought: 'My brother always has good ideas! He'll surely help me improve my new technique!'"
I sighed with a tired smile, letting the broom fall to the ground.
—"I can't believe you still have energy after all day…" I muttered, ruffling Aron's hair. "But okay, let's go. I can't let you blow up half the garden like last time."
—"That was an artistic accident!" Aron replied with a laugh, running toward the nearest practice area, where the sun still touched the ground with its last golden tones.
Soon after, under the sky that slowly turned violet, the two of us trained. I corrected his posture, measured the intensity of the Lysae in Aron's strikes, and every now and then, I let out a genuine laugh watching my brother struggle so hard.
Aron spun, forming a spark, and his lightning sword flickered, unstable but vibrant.
—"Remember what I taught you," I said, placing myself behind him. "Energy isn't just strength, it's rhythm. Breathe with it, make it yours."
And so, between sparks and laughter, the two of us shared a moment that, although simple, would feel eternal in our memories… an instant of peace before the storm began.
From the shadow of one of the stone hallway arches, a figure watched silently. Master Jorly, with her arms crossed and a relaxed frown, let out a faint smile. Her eyes didn't just see Aron and me... they saw the reflection of generations growing, teaching, and pushing each other forward.
—"He has the makings…" she whispered to herself, as if speaking to the winds of the evening. "He doesn't notice yet, but he's closer to being a guide than a mere student."
The breeze lifted a bit of dust from the ground as I helped Aron stabilize his lightning sword. We both laughed with that naturalness that only exists between siblings.
—"Maybe…" Jorly added, watching the sky turn violet with reddish tones. "Maybe the time is coming."
And with a soft sigh, she disappeared from the scene as silently as she had arrived, leaving the brothers in their bubble of light and sparks.
The sun was already high, warming the courtyard with its presence. The atmosphere was filled with a mix of tension and excitement. Seventh, eighth, and ninth-year students gathered in the practice yard, and conversation was constant. Some were adjusting their emblems, others were polishing their clothes. The ninth years remained calmer, as if they were already used to these kinds of events, while the younger ones, like me, couldn't help but feel a little nervous.
At the front, on the white stone platform, stood the five masters of the lower council, waiting for the Master. I watched the scene calmly, though I couldn't help but feel my body tense. In the distance, I saw Darlon whispering something to Dorim, laughing as the two of them mocked the ninth years. It seemed that competition, even at this point, was the most important thing to them.
Aethen, on his part, remained in his eternal serenity, barely moving his fingers, as if counting the rhythm of each moment. I liked the way he was present, so calm, as if nothing could shake him, but I knew he was ready, just like everyone else. Uncertainty has always seemed unnecessary to me. For me, things were simple: you did what you had to do, and that was it. I didn't think too much about the risks.
At that moment, the large carved doors in the distance opened with a creak that echoed in the air. Silence fell immediately, heavy and dense. The Grand Master had arrived.
His voice, powerful and determined, filled the courtyard.
—This year, there are many junior practitioners who feel they have the strength for the Condecorative Trial. But I must clarify that this trial is no longer a game, nor a practice. Here, at the end, some will be able to go out into the world, offering the best their clan has to give. Others, on the other hand, will die trying...
The tension in the air was palpable. Every word the Grand Master spoke sliced through the air, as if he wanted to leave a mark on all of us. But, as for me, I didn't feel fear, just a slight annoyance. My gaze hardened as I heard those words.
—Hmph... —I muttered, quietly, more to myself than to anyone else—, hearing the old man speak with such zeal just makes me want to go up and kick his ass.
My tone wasn't one of challenge towards the others, but rather towards the way the Master's words carried so much weight. I wasn't intimidated. In fact, I felt like I wasn't the only one thinking that, and I found myself smiling inwardly.
—I can't wait to show them what a great teacher I'm going to become! Let them see! —I exclaimed louder, not caring about the looks from the others. My self-confidence was evident.
It was then that I heard a voice behind me, with a sarcastic tone.
—All that will make sense if you come out victorious from this trial.
It was a young woman standing right next to Aethen. I hadn't noticed her before, but her comment didn't go unnoticed. I turned my head, narrowing my eyes.
—What do you mean? —I replied, raising my voice so everyone could hear me, with an attitude that reflected my confidence. I wasn't going to stay silent.
My confidence was so palpable it was almost tangible. I said it with the certainty that I knew I was capable of overcoming whatever came my way.
—I'm a mountain in front of many here. This trial will be a piece of cake if I face them...
As I said those words, something inside me ignited. The excitement of what was to come kept me alert, but at the same time, there was a calm within me. I was ready for anything.
The girl said that phrase with such ease that for a second, I doubted whether I had heard it right.
—"You don't seem to have what it takes. It's not all about size and muscles, big guy..." —she said, as if nothing, with that smile of someone already sure she would have the last word.
I looked at her, squinting my eyes, not out of annoyance, but surprise. Nobody spoke to me like that... or at least, nobody who wasn't prepared for me to respond with something worse.
—Oh yeah? —I shot back, raising an eyebrow, not wiping the half-smile that slipped from me—. Well, maybe… but I'm sure I have more than you, don't I?
She didn't reply. She just gave me a quick glance, as if sizing up her opponent without losing her composure. Aethen, meanwhile, seemed to be in a different reality. I saw him look at the girl as if he had just discovered a new star in the sky.
—W-wow… how beautiful! —he murmured, more to himself than to us. His eyes were practically popping out.
And then, with the clumsy delicacy only he could have, he asked her:
—C-c... what's your name?
—Uhm? Keia... —she responded, though she couldn't say more.
Because right at that moment, the voice of the Grand Master echoed loudly from the podium:
—Everyone must be ready within the next few weeks. Now, we will form mixed groups of beginners and experienced. Stay alert!
Immediately, the square was filled with murmurs. Some looked at the sky, others tensed as if about to enter battle. And me, honestly, I just wanted them to call my name so I could know who I would be paired with.
—Group Eighteen... Keia, Aethen, Yeroy... Darel and Flumir —the Grand Master read, with that solemn tone that seemed to come straight from an ancient play.
I frowned.
—Here we go again with these mixed-up names... —I muttered, crossing my arms.
Keia, with that constant spark that never seemed to fade, flashed me a mocking smile.
—Don't complain, you could've ended up with those who fall asleep standing —she said to me.
Aethen barely swallowed. I didn't know if he was more nervous about the trial or about being next to Keia. Or both.
But we didn't have time to process it, because two figures moved through the crowd who clearly weren't part of the beginners. One had dark, short hair, with a scar on his eyebrow that gave him a tough-guy look. The other, taller, with a reddish ponytail, had a smile that seemed to challenge the world.
—So these are the new kids in the group... —said the one with the scar, eyeing us as if he already knew exactly what our weaknesses were—. I'm Darel. If you think this is going to be a walk in the park, you're more lost than a rock in the sky.
—And I'm Flumir —the other added, with an energy that was almost palpable—. We were beginners too, but in the last two years, we've survived more than twenty real simulations. So if you want to learn something, keep your eyes wide open... and your mouth shut.
I laughed. Not out loud, but enough for them to notice.
—Heh... I'm starting to like you guys —I said, honestly.
Darel didn't seem too interested in my friendliness.
—We're not here for you to like us —he said with a tone drier than old dirt—. We're here to make sure you don't die.
Keia, for the first time, dropped the mockery and nodded silently. Aethen, on his part, seemed ready to explode from the inside, but not from fear... rather from excitement.
In the distance, I saw my friends laughing together in another group. One of them gave me a mocking gesture from where they were, in group twelve. I responded with another smirk, a mix of teasing and challenge. That's how we always communicated.
The guy supervising them was one you couldn't ignore: tall, with arms covered in tattoos that moved with the wind as if they had a life of their own. He had a sharp gaze, the kind that cuts right through you.
—Kalesh... —I murmured, recognizing him. I had seen him before in some training sessions.
Flumir noticed him too and gave him a crooked smile, as if they knew each other.
—Looks like we'll be collaborating with them in the final simulation... —he said, without taking his eyes off group 12.
—Then they better get in shape quickly —added Darel.
And at that moment, it was as if all the noise, the jokes, the doubts... vanished for a second. Because this wasn't just another trial. It was the trial. The one that made the difference.
And the world, suddenly, felt much bigger than it had been that morning. Yeroy felt his lysae boil with all the energy it could, igniting the green and reddish glow in spiral within his eyes as he saw the light of the path finally open before him.