Martin woke up to the familiar creaking of the wooden shutters, sunlight creeping into the modest stone cottage.
The air smelled of dew and drying herbs, and somewhere in the distance, a rooster cried.
He looked up towards the ceiling, "Happy birthday Martin."
He sat by the windowsill, eyes fixed on the sky. A faint breeze tugged at his snow-white hair. The messenger eagle should've arrived by now.
Thirty minutes passed.
Still no sign.
With a sigh, Martin left the window and tiptoed into the next room. His mother lay on the bed, curled beneath a faded blanket. Her breathing was calm, but shallow. He'd already changed her sheets and left a bowl of broth beside the bed.
"Still asleep," he whispered, brushing a strand of silver hair from her forehead. "Maybe tomorrow."
Quietly, he returned to the front door, grabbing a slender wooden rapier resting against the frame.
He stepped outside.
Waiting just beyond the gate, Rose stood beneath a flowering tree, spinning her wooden blade in circles.
She blinked and did a poor job of pretending she hadn't been staring through his window just moments ago.
"Oh hey! Didn't see you there, I wanted to tell you happy birthday." she said, grinning.
Martin gave her a soft smile and tied his hair into a neat ponytail. "Do you wanna spar?"
Rose pointed toward the training hill just beyond the garden. "Sure thing birthday boy." she challenged, already running.
---
In Ycracuse, Areise children were trained early in the ways of elemental combat.
Their martial system revolved around Four Traditional Styles, each bonded to the flow of blood and essence within their lineage:
Flame Style – Aggressive and explosive; based on overwhelming force.
Earth Style – Defensive and rooted; used by warriors with heavy weapons and great resilience.
Wind Style – Agile and evasive; prioritizes speed and acrobatics.
Water Style – Fluid and reactive; focused on deflection, counters, and precision.
Each style could manifest elemental effects once the user matured, and over time, they evolved into substyles, personal to each warrior.
Areise society measured strength with six ranks: Youngblood, Born, Visionary, Agent, King, and Apostle.
Martin was a Water Youngblood, wielding a rapier, bow, and daggers.
Rose, a Fire Youngblood, had raw potential but lacked discipline, using a standard wooden sword and basic elemental outbursts.
They faced one another in the grass under the early sun, blades drawn.
"You ready to lose again?" Rose teased.
Martin raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I have ever lost against you."
"Those times I wasn't feeling well but this time is different." she grumbled, stepping into a Flame-style stance.
A breeze rolled across the training field.
Then Rose lunged, fiery sparks trailing from her blade's edge as she struck downward. Martin flowed around the strike like rippling water, deflecting her blow with a twist and launching her sword into the air.
Before she could react, he swept her legs, knocking her flat on her back and pointing the tip of his wooden blade at her throat.
"My win."
Rose stared up at him, stunned. Then the sword fell from the sky and bonk—bounced off her head.
"Ow!"
Martin chuckled. "That counts as your loss too."
Rose sat up, red-faced, about to respond—
When laughter echoed from the treeline.
---
A group of boys stood watching, all dressed in training gear. The one in front, smug and broad-shouldered, stepped forward. Arthur—a Born-ranked Earth style trainee and known bully.
"Well, well. If it isn't the worst elf in Luminary," he sneered. "Didn't think my queen was going to be playing warrior."
The other boys howled with laughter.
Rose's fiery confidence flickered. Her hands clenched, and tears welled in her eyes before she turned and ran.
Martin didn't say anything. He just glared.
Arthur opened his mouth to speak again, "There is no need to get upset. She chose to reject the offer from the capital to contribute her efforts to the war. The strongest Areise in Luminary and a high achieving mage. Just think of the power our child will possess."
Martin looked at him with a soft anger, but ultimately decided to sprint after her.
---
Martin found her past the training field, crouched behind the tree barrier that surrounded the village—a living wall of silver-barked trees known as The Embrace.
They were grown centuries ago by the moon elves to protect Luminary from outside threats.
Rose sat with her knees pulled to her chest, hair covering her face.
"This morning, I received a letter from the village chief," she muttered when Martin approached. "He was furious that I rejected the offer from Ceisal. Now as my reward, I was assigned to be Arthur child bearer."
"There much I can't say. If that's the chief instruction," Martin said quietly.
She looked up, startled.
He offered her a faint smile and a hand.
"But you are capable of creating your own canvas. Tell the chief that you wish to be on the frontline and give him a reason to put you there."
Rose hesitated, then took his hand.
"You are right, I will train harder," she said. "Even if I stay a Youngblood forever, I won't go down quietly. And I won't let them decide my story."
Martin nodded. "We'll both make our own stories. Together."
As they stood, the wind picked up—and overhead, the shadow of a bird passed across the trees.
---
Back at Martin's house, a messenger eagle had finally arrived.
It perched on the windowsill, talons gripping the wood, feathers dirtied from travel.
In its beak was a letter—half-burned, edges charred black.
Martin opened it quickly, his hands trembling.
> "Hey kiddo, I hope everything is going well over there. I knew you expected more than a simple introduction so I will cut straight to the chase...I'm going to die soon. I suffered an injured that going to take my life in any minute. So this is goodbye, sorry if I can't deliver your birthday gifts but I left you something Winter Peak. Consider it as my goodbye gift.
So long, son. Tell your mother that I will always love her.
—Father"
After four years of silence from him, Martin was left speechless at the realization that his father was alive.
Waiting up Winter Peak.