The morning mist clung to the wooden rooftops of Mistgrove as the children gathered inside the school hall. Elder Marn stood at the front, his weathered hands folded behind his back, eyes sweeping across the class.
"Tomorrow," he began, voice steady and clear, "you will be tested on basic spells. After that, you must each make an important decision: the weapon you will train with."
A few gasps and murmurs spread across the room.
"Magic alone won't carry you through every trial," Elder Marn continued. "There are fields —natural or man-made —that suppress elemental energy. If you're caught unprepared, your reliance on magic might become your downfall. That's why every mage must know how to wield steel."
He paced slowly.
"Tomorrow, after the test, you'll each choose a weapon you feel drawn to— sword, bow, spear, or otherwise. You may train with others later, but I recommend focusing on one for now. Mastery takes time. You'll also carry it when your journeys begin."
Kael's hand shot up. "Elder, can I choose a sword?"
Marn smiled faintly. "You may choose whatever suits your spirit, child. After the test, I'll present a variety of weapons. You may also speak with your parents if you need guidance."
With that, the elder gave his final instruction. "Class dismissed. Rest well tonight. Don't exhaust yourselves with late-night practice. A clear mind and an unstrained Soul Mark are more valuable than a fatigued body."
---
On their way home, Arin glanced sideways at Kael. "So, what weapon are you picking?"
Kael scoffed dramatically. "Is that even a question? A sword, obviously. I'll cut down my enemies with one strike and look cool doing it."
Arin laughed. "You dream big."
Kael grinned. "What about you?"
"I want to ask my mother what my father used before I decide."
Kael blinked. "Following in your father's footsteps?"
Arin shook his head slowly. "Not exactly. But it might help me decide."
Kael frowned thoughtfully, watching Arin from the corner of his eye. Is he afraid he might disappear too, like his father…?
---
At home, Lyra was busy in the kitchen when Arin stepped in.
"Welcome back, Arin," she called.
"What are you making, Mama?"
Lyra smiled over her shoulder. "Your favorite —braised cloudleaf with sweetroot dumplings."
Arin's eyes lit up. "Thanks, Mama!"
As she served the food, Arin sat down and hesitated for a moment before asking, "Mama… do you know what weapon Father used?"
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "So you've reached the weapon selection lesson, hmm?"
She paused. "Well… I don't think he ever chose a weapon."
"What? He didn't?"
"No. Your father was a librarian, Arin. He wasn't trained in combat like others. He carried certain enchanted items in case he couldn't use magic, but he didn't walk the path of weapon mastery."
Arin lowered his gaze. "So how did he travel safely?"
"He traveled with wisdom and preparation. But you don't need to follow his exact path. The world has grown harsher."
He nodded slowly. "What weapon do you think I should choose?"
"That's your choice to make. A weapon is a lifelong partner. I won't pick it for you."
Arin looked down, disappointed.
Lyra ruffled his hair gently. "Don't worry. Elder Marn will tell you the strengths and weaknesses of each. Trust your instincts."
---
Later that day, Arin, Kael, Daren, Mirelle, Silen, and several others gathered at the village library.
Kael glanced around. "There's more people than yesterday."
Arin smiled. "Maybe we started something good."
The book from yesterday rested in Silen's hands.
"Can we read together?" Arin asked.
Silen nodded silently, placing the tome on the reading table.
Its title had faded with time, but within, the contents remained intact—
Whispers of Elemental Truths
Every person is born with one or more elemental affinities —fire, water, wind, earth, lightning, ice, light, shadow, and rarer elements lost to time. The strength of these affinities is known as the Affinity Grade.
Grades are ranked from highest to lowest: S, A, B, C, D, E, F
Each grade glows in a unique color:
S Grade: Radiant Gold — Legendary Talent
A Grade: Crimson Red — Exceptional Potential
B Grade: Sky Blue — Strong Affinity
C Grade: Emerald Green — Balanced Average
D Grade: Stone Gray — Weak Bond
E Grade: Pale White — Unstable
F Grade: Void Black — No Affinity
But the Soul Mark cannot reveal these grades until one reaches the Burned Stage of the Mortal Realm. Before then, tools must be used to determine affinities.
Testing Methods
1. Elemental Affinity Crystals – Attuned to a single element. When infused with mana, they glow if a connection exists.
2. Affinity Grade Crystals – Extremely rare. When exposed to compatible mana, they form unique particle patterns like constellations. The pattern's color reveals the grade.
Some people are born with multiple affinities. Each one must be tested individually, and each has a separate grade. Training multiple elements is difficult and requires rare dual-cultivation methods.
---
Arin blinked at the last page.
"So… we won't even know our grades until we hit the Burned Stage?"
Kael groaned. "Inconvenient? Try terrifying. What if I've got Void Black in everything?"
Arin smirked. "Then you'll be the world's first sarcasm cultivator."
Kael rolled his eyes. "And what if you're glowing in gold like some chosen hero?"
"I'd rather not find out with a crystal that would make half the world hunt me down," Arin said. "Let's just reach the Burned Stage first."
Kael leaned back. "Burned Stage sounds dramatic."
"Everything in this world is."
They sat in silence, the library groaning softly with age -as though it, too, carried forgotten truths.
---
Just before they left, Kael let out a sudden gasp.
"Arin, get over here. Now!"
Arin hurried over. "What is it?"
Kael held up a worn, tattered journal. "This thing has the initials D.V. It's half-destroyed, but… look."
Arin's heart skipped. "I… I think this might be my father's."
Kael nodded. "Take it home. Show your mom. Maybe she'll recognize the handwriting or something."
"What are you waiting for, then?" Kael pushed him lightly. "Run, idiot!"
Far away, deep within a sealed wing of the academy's forbidden archives, a quiet shift occurred.
No book moved. No pages turned. But the air grew denser - heavier, like the calm before a storm.
Several elders paused mid-conversation, their expressions sharpening. A few faculty members glanced at each other, frowning as an ancient unease settled over the room.
"Did you feel that?" one murmured.
"Something stirred the old wards…" said another, narrowing their eyes toward the sealed shelves cloaked in dust and silence.
They didn't know the cause.
They couldn't see the book.
But they felt it.
And somewhere in the shadows of that forgotten wing, the Whispering Book remained perfectly still - yet ever so faintly... aware.