Despite the effort around him, Kaelric felt no thrill in the practice, only the weight of calculation and concealment. The others saw a promising A-grade, confident yet kind. Only he knew how fragile the act was, how necessary every gesture had become.
When the training ended and he prepared to leave, Daren's glare followed him. The moment Kaelric passed, Daren muttered just loud enough for others to hear, "Guess talent's easier when someone else fills your aperture for you."
Kaelric stopped. His head turned slightly, enough for his dark hair to shift and reveal the faintest hint of a smile. "Then you should ask them to fill yours, too," he said evenly, his tone polite, almost friendly.
A few nearby students tried to smother their laughs. Daren's face darkened, fists tightening, but Kaelric had already turned away, calm and unreadable, his onyx-black robes trailing lightly over the frost.
The laughter died as he left the yard, leaving only the echo of his composure, and Daren's silent promise that one day, he'd wipe that serenity from his face.
"His ego is huge," Kaelric thought as the cold air thinned. "Maybe I can use that later. These D grades almost never risk reaching it, most end up as guards, not a disciple like my cousin, Edran."
After practice, as he prepared to leave.
"Kaelric!" A man's voice came from behind Kaelric.
He turned. A tall figure strode toward him, Edran, his cousin. The man's physique was carved from years of tempered training, his high collared stone gray robe snug over broad shoulders, a steel plate embossed with the clan emblem over his chest.
"You vanished after the awakening ceremony," Edran said, grinning as he caught Kaelric's shoulder. "Uncle and Aunt were worried sick. Your mother kept asking if you were hurt, your father, well, he said it was pride keeping you away."
Kaelric's faint, practiced smile flickered. "They worry too much."
Inside, that old bitterness flickered. Two weeks, and they hadn't once asked why he didn't return only where. To them, he was another duty fulfilled. Another son to parade before elders.
"I was planning to stay near the Heartspire for a while," Kaelric added smoothly. "Clan Leader Thalen gave me a task."
"A task?" Edran tilted his head. "Already? What kind?"
"To find where the three and four-antlered deer flock."
"Those?" Edran's brows rose. "Even the hunting squads haven't seen a four-antlered one this season. Are you sure it was not a joke?"
Kaelric's tone didn't change. "he called it a challenge. I'll find them."
Edran hesitated, studying him for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. I know a ridge where the three-antlered kind graze near dawn. But don't cheat and steal from the hunters, alright?" His grin returned, playful. "And if you find the tan-striped four-antlered, don't forget to tell me first. I want to see that legend with my own eyes."
"Of course," Kaelric said softly.
His gaze lingered on the strength in Edran's stance, the effortless decency that radiated from him.
"Lead the way," Kaelric said, and the two walked into the wilds as the morning sun bled across the misted stone.
The wilds north of Stoneheart were half-drowned in mist, sunlight breaking through in fractured lines. Kaelric noted faint spirit traces. Marks left by beasts, weak and scattered. Not enough to trace.
Kaelric said nothing, eyes on the distant ridge. A four-antlered deer, absorbing moonlight through its horns, would be the perfect Relic's core. If he claimed it, perhaps he could actually start cultivating, instead of wasting vitalis stones for barely any progress.
They crossed a narrow stream.
Kaelric kept pressing about the four antlered deer, the rarest deer, one not seen in almost a year. Then he mentioned the most dangerous area "not even in the north?"
Edran's expression darkened. Kaelric felt anticipation. Fire-fanged cougars, thick orange-black fur rippling with muscle, padded stealthy paws, some were late rank two beasts. Dangerous, they were a part of the cougars beast tides territory in the north.
"Careful," Edran warned, gaze turning to Kaelric. "Do not, ever, go alone even if you find a trace."
"Of course," Kaelric said softly.
Kaelric's gaze drifted over the misted ridge as Edran chattered about hunting paths and predator habits.
The thought of Edran. Of the peace his cousin carried, the trust in elders, the ease of living without ambition, without strategy, without the constant shadow of betrayal. That was a life Kaelric could never claim, a cage gilded with kindness. He would take the path he chose, even if it cost blood, sweat, or pain; even if it meant stepping into the wilds alone and leaving everything predictable behind.
The smell of wet earth mixed with the faint tang of predator blood carried on the wind, warning any careful hunter of the danger in these parts. There, moving slowly along a narrow game trail, were three hunters. Their steps were measured, practiced, bundles of meat slung across their backs from the morning's catch.
The moment they saw Kaelric and Edran, the men froze, then bowed instinctively, eyes wide with reverence.
"Masters of the Stoneheart blood," the eldest said, voice lowered as if the forest itself might overhear. "A blessing upon the wilds today."
Edran smiled gently, resting a hand on Kaelric's shoulder. "We're just passing through," he said, deflecting the weight of it.
The hunters lingered anyway, eyes drifting despite themselves. Edran's steady posture. Kaelric's untroubled composure. One of the men, broad-shouldered with hair gone thin at the temples, released a slow breath through his nose.
"An elite and a prodigy," he murmured, not quite managing to hide the respect. "The forest won't breathe easy for days."
Kaelric returned a faint smile. He noticed, without comment, that only one of them smiled back, and even that carried more resignation than warmth.
"We heard you were heading north," said the youngest of the three, tightening the strap of his satchel. His fingers lingered there, stiff for a moment before obeying. "There's talk. A four-antlered deer. Light tan, striped along the flanks. Last seen northeast, near the fire-fang territory."
Edran's gaze sharpened. "Cougars?"
The hunter nodded once. "They hunt alone, mostly. But the ground burns where they walk." A pause. "Two men didn't come back last season. Good ones."
Kaelric spoke then, voice even. "When was it last sighted?"
The hunters exchanged a glance. The eldest rubbed at a pale scar along his forearm, thumb passing over it as if counting something long past.
"Five days ago," he said. "Maybe less. It slipped our lines." He hesitated, then added, quieter, "Cost us three relic snares. Light-binding wire."
Another man snorted softly. "Took me two years to save for those." He shifted his weight, knees creaking faintly. "Didn't even slow the beast. Still stuck where I started."
"Middle stage would've been enough," the eldest said, not looking at Kaelric as he spoke. "But the clan doesn't look twice once you're past a certain age." His gaze flicked, briefly, to Kaelric's face. Then away. "No sense throwing stones where they won't grow."
That was answer enough.
"We meant to warn the younger squads," the first hunter said, respect edging into caution now. "If anyone's going after it… best not hesitate."
"Thank you," Edran replied smoothly. "We'll handle it."
The hunters bowed and moved on, their steps quieter than before, shoulders slightly hunched as the forest closed around them.
Kaelric watched them disappear between the trees. Five days. Lost snares. Fire-fang ground. The anticipation tightening in his chest no longer felt idle. Somewhere ahead, value was already being burned away into blood, relic fragments, wasted time. And the longer it lingered, the more hands would reach for what remained.
Edran glanced at him as they turned. "If we pursue the deer, don't be careless. Fire-fangs don't forgive mistakes."
Kaelric nodded, already adjusting his path.
The forest had started moving before them.
"I'll be careful," he said.
The ridge fell silent behind them, save for the whisper of wind through twisted branches, as Kaelric and Edran stepped deeper into the wilds.
The forest thickened into a maze of twisted roots as Edran crouched low, bow drawn. A two-antlered deer grazed beside a moss-covered log, its coat sleek and silvered by morning dew. Every exhale from the creature steamed faintly in the cool air, ears twitching at the whisper of distant birds.
Thwip.
Edran's arrow cut through the hush. The deer staggered once, a low gasp escaping its throat before it collapsed against the damp earth.
Kaelric approached as Edran knelt beside the fallen beast, muttering a quiet prayer of thanks before pulling the arrow free. Blood spread through the moss in slow, red threads. The forest's breath felt heavier here, as though it had seen this ritual countless times before.
Kaelric's eyes lingered briefly on Edran's sleeve again, saw how the storage-type rank two relic sat almost like a tattoo, engraved into the fabric of his inner wrist.
Unlike most relics, it required no vitalis to activate. A faint pulse of aperture energy was enough. When triggered, a dark golden scorpion shimmered to life along the engravings, its segmented body twisting as if aware, then warping objects into the hidden interior of the relic.
Kaelric watched, impressed: the deer carcass from their morning hunt had disappeared effortlessly, leaving no burden on Edran's frame. The storage relic carried no weight, yet Kaelric knew it had strict limits; anything too large would be rejected.
For the Breathless Depths, he realized he would need something similar, at least a rank one storage relic engraved directly into his sleeve, subtle, elegant, and deadly efficient, capable of holding his essential tools and harvested vitalis.
They pressed deeper north as the sun climbed, the mist thinning into open ridges. The air grew warmer, tainted by the metallic scent of scorched bark.
Somewhere beyond the hills, a guttural growl rolled through the wind. Deep, resonant, unmistakable. Fire-fanged cougars.
Edran paused, scanning the shadowed treeline. "Not even a three-antlered one," he said with a sigh "What a shame. Maybe later, Kaelric?"
Kaelric only nodded. His gaze lingered on the northern forest, the one shrouded in a dark canopy of green, its trunks thick as towers. The air there felt different, dense and pulsing with quiet hostility.