Evenneor finally understood why the elders always watched him—why their eyes followed his every move in silence.
It wasn't out of care or admiration.
It was fear.
His bloodline—his mother's blood—was power itself. A weapon. A danger that could burn their world again if ever left unchecked.
Yet, in that cold circle of wary eyes, Master Caldier had always been different.
Patient. Understanding. A father who tried to raise him as a boy—not as a weapon.
Still, Evenneor's sharp temper often clashed with the others. Especially with Zenny, his arrogant rival among the trainees.
Then came Xerxez—the boy who tried to be his friend.
At first, their bond was like iron buried beneath a frozen sea—cold, stiff, and impossible to melt.
One morning, after a sparring session, Evenneor broke the silence between them.
He stood with his arms crossed, looking away.
"You're weak," he said bluntly. "Why do you keep following me? You'll only get hurt if you don't stop."
