Exactly one year after the Awakening Ceremony, Wei Chen stood in the temple courtyard at sunset.
The ceremony had felt distant and present simultaneously. A year was a long time when you were only six years old. It was also nothing at all when measured against the distance he still needed to travel.
Elder Shen emerged from the temple, staff tapping against stone. He studied Wei Chen with those sharp, assessing eyes.
"Today marks your first year," Elder Shen said simply. "It is customary to review progress and set intentions for the year ahead."
Wei Chen nodded. He'd anticipated this.
"Walk with me," Elder Shen commanded, not asked.
They moved through the town — not the market district, but the quiet residential areas where ordinary people lived. Elder Shen seemed to be leading with purpose, though Wei Chen couldn't discern it yet. They stopped at a modest pottery workshop. Chen Bo's shop.
Wei Chen's father was inside, hands moving through clay on the wheel. He looked up, surprised to see Elder Shen, and hastily wiped his hands.
"Elder. An honor."
"Chen Bo. Your son's progress has been exceptional," Elder Shen said. "I wanted to observe the foundation that produced such dedication."
Chen Bo gestured, and they all stepped outside. He pointed to his work — the finished pieces displayed on shelves. Bowls. Cups. Plates. Simple, practical, beautifully crafted.
"This is what I know," Chen Bo said. "Shaping clay. No magic. No power. Just repetition. Discipline. Understanding the material's nature."
Elder Shen examined a finished bowl, turning it in his hands. "And you taught your son this philosophy."
"I tried to. Whether it stuck, I cannot say."
"It stuck," Elder Shen said, setting the bowl down carefully. "Your son applies the potter's philosophy to magic. He understands that mastery requires understanding nature, not fighting it. Darkness magic is not evil or good — it is concealment and deception. He accepts this and builds from it."
Chen Bo looked at Wei Chen with something like pride in his weathered face. Elder Shen turned to Wei Chen's father again.
"There is something I wish to propose," Elder Shen continued. "In two years, Wei Chen must choose his path. Join a sect. Enlist in the military. Pursue independence. The town can no longer contain his growth."
Wei Chen's stomach tightened. Two years. It seemed both impossibly far away and terrifyingly close.
"When that time comes," Elder Shen said, "I recommend he pursue the Shadow Sanctuary in the capital. They are semi-legal and secretive, yes — but they will understand his potential in ways the Water Academy cannot. They will push him toward mastery rather than conformity."
Chen Bo bowed deeply. "We are honored by your confidence, Elder."
"Don't thank me yet," Elder Shen replied. "Wei Chen's path will not be easy. Darkness mages are always suspect. Always watched. Success will require not just power, but strategy. Connections. Discretion."
He turned to Wei Chen. "Do you understand what I'm saying, boy?"
"You're saying I can't rely on talent alone."
"Correct. Talent is foundation. Everything else you've built — reputation with Merchant Liu, relationship with Feng, respect from Yun Hao — that is what will matter. Power without trust is simply a threat. Power with trust is opportunity."
Elder Shen left them there in the pottery workshop. Wei Chen watched him go, then turned to his father.
"Two years."
"Yes," Chen Bo said, returning to his wheel and resuming work. "Two years to prepare. To decide if you're certain about this path."
"I'm certain."
"Are you?" His father's hands moved through the clay with practiced ease. "Or are you certain because you've never stopped moving long enough to consider alternatives?"
Wei Chen didn't have an immediate answer. His father continued shaping, the wheel spinning steadily beneath his hands.
"When I was young," Chen Bo said, "I thought I wanted to travel. See the world. Be more than a potter in a small town." He shaped the clay with gentle precision. "But I was wrong. I tried for a year. Worked merchant caravans. Traveled to three other towns."
The clay transformed under his hands — from formless lump to smooth walls taking shape.
"And I realized I wasn't running toward something. I was running away from fear that I wasn't good enough. That making pots wasn't enough," he paused in his work. "So I came back. Opened this workshop. Married your mother. Built something small but real."
The bowl was taking shape now — symmetrical, balanced, beautiful in its simplicity.
"I'm not telling you to stop," Chen Bo said. "I'm telling you to examine why you're running. Make sure it's toward something, not away from something."
"I'm running toward power. Toward wealth. Toward freedom."
"Freedom from what?" his father asked.
Wei Chen thought about this. "From fear. From powerlessness. From being at the mercy of people who have advantages I don't."
His father nodded slowly. "Those are honest answers. And they're valid. Just don't forget — power and wealth and freedom all cost something. Make sure you're willing to pay the price."
That night, Wei Chen sat with Merchant Liu, counting inventory. One year of work. Nearly seventy silver accumulated, spent mostly on training but building toward a future.
"You're different," Liu observed, marking numbers in his ledger. "Than when you started."
"How?"
"More efficient. Less emotional. You make decisions based on analysis rather than hope," Liu said, setting down his pen. "It's good for business. But I wanted to tell you — that kind of thinking is like a tool. Useful, but overuse it and you become brittle."
Wei Chen looked at him. Liu rarely offered unsolicited advice.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that some people matter more than money. Lian Xiu, for example. You spent a silver on honey cakes when you should've saved it. From a pure business perspective, that was wasteful," Liu smiled slightly. "But from a human perspective, it was one of the smartest things you could've done. You built loyalty that transcends economics. That's worth more than silver eventually."
Liu closed his ledger and looked Wei Chen directly in the eye.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because in a few years, you'll be powerful enough to force people to work for you. Powerful enough to buy loyalty through threats. And I want to make sure you remember that earned loyalty — loyalty freely given — is better than any threat can purchase," Liu said. "When you reach the capital, you'll meet people who forgot that lesson. They build empires of fear. Those empires break easily."
Wei Chen absorbed this. "And empires built on loyalty?"
"Last for generations. Survive their founders. Create legacies," Liu met his eyes. "That's what I'm building. And I suspect, if you're smart, that's what you'll build too."
Two days later, Wei Chen had his monthly sparring session with Feng. The instructor was pleased. Wei Chen's Shadow Blade technique had stabilized significantly. His combat footwork was sharp. His magical reserves had increased — he could now sustain shadow manipulations for nearly forty-five minutes before exhaustion.
"You've grown," Feng acknowledged after a particularly intense session. "Half a year ago, you barely lasted a sparring round. Now you're pushing me."
"Not successfully."
"Yet," Feng said, handing Wei Chen water. "You won't beat me in a few years either. I have decades of experience. But you might beat younger students who are overconfident. You might survive encounters with advanced mages who underestimate Darkness users. That's progress."
Wei Chen drank deeply. "Half a year of combat training with you. One year of magic training with Elder Shen. Four years until I can join the capital sects."
"You've calculated this already."
"I calculate everything."
Feng smiled. "That's good. Magic users who don't think never reach mastery. They reach power, maybe. But not mastery. Mastery requires understanding not just the what, but the why."
"What's the why behind Shadow Blade?"
"Control through concealment. You layer shadow over a physical weapon, which does three things," Feng demonstrated the technique flawlessly. "First, it amplifies the blade's cutting ability by adding magical edge to physical sharpness. Second, it disrupts magical defenses — they expect magical attacks to form in predictable ways. Shadow Blade breaks those expectations. Third, and most important, it teaches you that magic and physicality work together. Neither is sufficient alone."
Feng lowered his blade. "Most mages think magic solves everything. It doesn't. A skilled fighter with a blade beats a careless mage with power. Always."
"How do I become both? A skilled fighter and a powerful mage."
"You're already doing it. Keep training. But also — " Feng paused, seemingly considering something. "Start learning about people. How they think. What motivates them. How to read intentions the way that girl Lian Xiu reads emotions."
"Why?"
"Because combat isn't just physical or magical. It's strategic. And strategy requires understanding your opponent," Feng clapped his shoulder. "You're learning weapons and techniques. Learn that, and you'll survive fights. But learn people, and you'll win wars without fighting."
One week later, Wei Chen faced Yun Hao in sparring again. It wasn't a victory exactly. Wei Chen still lost. But for the first time, he managed to wound Yun Hao — a shallow cut on the arm where Shadow Blade broke through the water defense.
Blood bloomed from the cut. Yun Hao yelped in surprise, more than pain.
"You actually got me," Yun Hao said, creating a water sphere to heal the wound. "That's the first time in six months."
"Lucky strike," Wei Chen said, but he was breathing heavily, exhausted.
"No," Yun Hao examined the healed arm carefully. "That technique you used — Shadow Blade, I think — it bypassed my defense completely. If you'd pushed harder, you could've caused serious damage."
After the session, Yun Hao walked with Wei Chen instead of leaving immediately. They moved slowly through the temple grounds, the evening light fading.
"You've changed a lot," Yun Hao said. Not accusatory. Just observing. "Even in just these past months. More controlled. More dangerous."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Both," Yun Hao replied. "Good because you're becoming capable of real combat. Bad because you're becoming the kind of person who could hurt people. Not by accident. On purpose. If necessary."
Wei Chen didn't deny it.
"My father warned me about that," Yun Hao continued. "He said power corrupts unless you have something anchoring you to who you want to be. Magic. Strength. Wealth — those are easy to abuse. Harder to use wisely."
"What's your anchor?"
"Healing," Yun Hao said simply. "My tutor teaches me that every person healed is a responsibility. I can't heal someone and then destroy them later. It violates the fundamental purpose of the magic."
They walked in silence for a moment.
"What's yours?" Yun Hao asked finally.
Wei Chen thought about his parents. About Lian Xiu. About Merchant Liu teaching him that loyalty matters. About Feng teaching him that strategy transcends combat.
"My parents," Wei Chen said. "They sacrificed for me. That's a responsibility. And Lian Xiu, who helped me when she didn't have to. And Liu and Feng — they're investing in me. I can't waste that investment by becoming someone cruel or reckless."
Yun Hao nodded slowly. "That might be enough."
"Might be?"
"Only you'll know, eventually. When you're powerful enough that nobody could stop you if you wanted to hurt them. That's when you'll find out if those anchors hold," Yun Hao extended his hand. "But I think they will. You're ambitious, Wei Chen. But you're not selfish. That matters."
Wei Chen shook his hand firmly.
That evening, Wei Chen sat in his room reviewing the past year. One year. Twelve months. Three hundred sixty-five days of work and training and growth.
He was six years old. He had already accomplished more than many people achieved in entire lives. But the gap between him and true power was still immense. Advanced mages. Master-level mages. Divine-level mages. Entire sects with centuries of accumulated knowledge.
He was a child playing with shadows, thinking he understood power.
And yet. He had growing magic. Growing skill. Growing connections. Seventy silver. A recovery cloak. A combat instructor. Business partners. Friends who believed in him. Parents who sacrificed for him.
Resources were accumulating. Knowledge was accumulating. Opportunity was accumulating.
Two more years of growth in this town. Then the capital. Then the real journey would begin.
Wei Chen closed his eyes, feeling the shadow quartz's resonance, feeling the magic inside him coiling and waiting. One year complete. Eleven more years ahead. He was ready for what came next. Or at least, he would be soon.