The forge was quiet that morning. No hammer rang, no flames danced — only the soft hiss of the wind slipping through the half-open door. Stephen stood in the center of the room, his light sword slung across his back, the faint hum of his newly strengthened energy swirling just beneath his skin.
After a week of relentless training, his bracelet now gleamed faintly with new numbers —
[Novice, Level 6]
It had cost him blood, pain, and sleepless nights — but he was finally ready to step into the rift.
His father was tightening the strap of a worn leather bracer when Stephen stepped closer. "Father," he said quietly, "before I go… there's something I want to show you."
The older man looked up, one brow arched, the faintest hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Show me, then."
Stephen took a deep breath and extended his right hand.
A faint pulse of blue light shimmered above his palm — the familiar silhouette of a small sprout, glowing gently, its roots faintly swaying as if caught in an unseen breeze.
His father's eyes softened. "So it's grown," he said quietly. "Good. You've made progress."
But before the words could fade, something else began to stir.
On Stephen's left hand, a faint azure gleam flickered into existence — small at first, then taking form. A tiny sparrow, radiant and ethereal, flapped its glowing wings once before settling into a faint, flickering shadow. Its feathers shimmered like sunlight on water, and its presence carried a warmth that wrapped around Stephen like a heartbeat he'd always known.
For a moment, time stood still.
His father's mouth opened — but no words came. His eyes widened, disbelief flashing through them before being overtaken by something far deeper.
Then, without warning, he stepped forward and pulled Stephen into a tight embrace.
For the first time in years, the man's voice trembled. "So… it's true. The Azure Soul still flows through you."
Stephen blinked, startled. "Azure Soul?"
His father slowly pulled back, his weathered hands resting on Stephen's shoulders. The firelight flickered across his face — a face now shadowed by memories too heavy to name.
"That sparrow," he said quietly, "isn't just any Aspect Soul. It's the seed of the Azure Phoenix — the ancestral soul of your mother's clan. Every generation, only one child inherits it. When it matures… it becomes a being of runes and flame, capable of rewriting the very laws that bind energy itself."
Stephen stared at the faint silhouette on his hand, his heart pounding. "Then… Mother—?"
His father nodded slowly. "Your mother was the last to bear it. That same soul once sang in her heart, brighter than the sun itself. She was a light sword user, graceful as wind and as fierce as lightning." His gaze drifted toward the rack of weapons at the corner of the forge. "You've inherited her touch. That blade you chose — it's more hers than mine."
Silence lingered between them — thick, heavy, filled with the echo of memories Stephen could almost feel.
Then, his father exhaled and reached for a small, rune-engraved talisman hanging near the forge wall. "Listen carefully, Stephen. What you carry will bring both glory and ruin if revealed. The world beyond this town still remembers the Azure Bloodline — and not all memories are kind."
He pressed the talisman into Stephen's palm. It was cool to the touch, etched with intricate patterns that glowed faintly when his father poured a thread of energy into it.
"This will help you conceal your breath when you cultivate. As long as you wear it, no one will sense the Azure Phoenix slumbering within you. Never remove it — not even for a moment. And never, under any circumstance, show that sparrow to anyone."
Stephen's fingers closed tightly around the talisman. "I understand."
His father nodded once, though his eyes still lingered on his son — a mix of pride and fear warring within them. "The path you walk from here won't be easy. You'll face hunger, exhaustion, and things that want you dead before you even know their names. But remember — your soul was born from two worlds. That alone makes you stronger than most."
He placed a hand on Stephen's shoulder. "Go to the rift. Hunt. Learn. And when you return… I'll tell you the rest of your mother's story."
Stephen nodded, bowing his head deeply. "I will."
The city's training rift stood at the far edge of Ravelton — a towering fracture of swirling blue light bound within stone pillars engraved with containment runes. Dozens of young awakeners gathered nearby, each waiting for their turn to step through.
Stephen's bracelet flickered as he approached the gatekeeper —
[Level 6 — Verified]
The man barely glanced up. "Level six? You qualify for the F-Rank rift. Stay near the outer zone. Anything past the red stones will be beyond your level."
Stephen nodded, stepping toward the glowing threshold. The hum of the rift deepened, wrapping around him like the breath of another world.
He took one last look back — toward the distant outline of the forge, where his father stood watching from afar, the faint orange light of the furnace behind him.
Then he tightened his grip on the light sword and stepped through.
A wave of cool, damp air hit him first. Then came the forest — vast, dark, alive. The scent of wet earth filled his lungs. The trees here pulsed faintly with energy, their bark etched with natural runes that shimmered whenever the mist shifted.
The bracelet blinked faintly on his wrist —
[Rift Zone: Tier F — Recommended Level 1–10][Energy Density: 72%]
He drew his sword, the faint azure veins along its blade lighting up as it resonated with his own energy.
"This is it," he murmured. "The start of everything."
Somewhere in the distance, the low growl of a beast echoed through the forest. Stephen steadied his breathing, feeling the sprout's calm pulse and the faint warmth of the hidden sparrow deep within.
For the first time, he wasn't afraid.
He was ready.
And so began the first steps of Stephen Stormcloud, the blacksmith's son — the boy who would one day stand at the crossroads between mortal and transcendent.