Chapter 1
Stormhold
The bells rang once ,measured ,never rushed and the training Steel met air. Wind cut low across stone. Frost clung to the edges of the platforms like it belonged there
Lyra Frostborne stood in the center of the training grounds
Her sword moved first.
The air around her hardened, a pale shimmer forming along the blade as she stepped forward. One clean arc. Two targets shattered before they could finish forming. Ice spread outward in a disciplined line, stopping exactly where it was meant to stop no waste, no excess.
Again," she said.
Klous was already gone.
A blur snapped past Lyra's shoulder, boots cracking stone as he reappeared behind the practice line. He struck fast—too fast for most but Lyra had already turned. Her blade caught his wrist mid-motion, frost crawling up his arm before he could pull back.
Klous grimaced. "You saw that?"
Sofia raised her hands next. Water lifted from the channels carved into the ground, forming narrow whips that struck in staggered rhythms. Emma altered the air pressure instantly, bending trajectories, forcing Sofia to adjust on instinct.
Julian charged through it all.
He didn't dodge. He didn't slow.
The ground cracked under his feet as he slammed into the final barrier, breaking it apart with brute force. Stone dust filled the air.
Lyra moved through them—correcting, striking, commanding. A step here. A word there. Every motion precise. Every mistake noted.
Above them, Master Shin watched in silence.
He leaned lightly on his staff, eyes following Lyra more than the rest. Others in Stormhold were strong. Some were faster. A few were older.
None were sharper.
When Lyra raised her fist, the training stopped instantly.
Breathing slowed. Frost melted. Wind settled.
"Formation," she said.
They moved without question.
Master Shin finally spoke. "That will do."
The ground cleared. Students dispersed. Team Froze remained.
Julian wiped sweat from his brow. "If this is just morning drills, I don't want to see what you call punishment."
"You saw it last week," Emma said calmly.
A horn sounded.
Not Stormhold's.
A messenger approached the grounds on horseback, armor bearing the seal of Romiya. He dismounted, bowed to Master Shin, then raised a sealed scroll.
"By decree of the High Council," he announced, voice carrying, "the Decennial Tournament is to be held."
The grounds went still.
"After ten years," the messenger continued, "the nine camps are summoned."
Murmurs rippled outward.
"The location," he said, unrolling the scroll, "is Eclipse Ground."
The messenger's voice lowered. "The mark has been confirmed."
He paused.
"Nine. One. Eight."
No explanation followed.
No one asked for one.
The messenger bowed again and turned away.