Morning crept through the forest like a cautious witness.
Sunlight filtered down in fractured beams, catching on frost and dew, turning the clearing into a field of scattered stars. At its center lay a pond—once liquid, now sealed beneath a flawless sheet of ice so clear it reflected the sky like glass.
Tomora stood barefoot at its edge.
His breath fogged the air, though he didn't shiver. Water clung to him in slow, obedient motion, sliding along his arms and shoulders, tightening and loosening as if responding to thoughts not yet spoken. Veins of blue light pulsed beneath his skin, faint but steady, like a second heartbeat.
He lifted his hand.
The ice beneath the pond answered.
A crack ran outward from his feet—not violent, not sudden—just enough to prove the connection was real. Frost crept up his fingers, forming delicate patterns before melting back into liquid that hovered, waiting.
Tomora stared at his palm, then laughed under his breath.
"So it's not just water anymore," he muttered.
Beside him, Azura leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching with an expression that hovered between pride and disbelief. The river nearby barely moved, as if reluctant to interrupt.
"You're not forcing it," Azura said at last. "That's the difference."
Tomora flexed his fingers. The frost returned, thicker this time, forming a thin blade of ice that curved along his knuckles. He dismissed it just as easily, the weapon dissolving into mist.
"I didn't even mean to do that," Tomora said. "It just… listened."
Azura pushed himself upright and stepped closer, boots crunching softly over frozen leaves. "That's what scares people. When power stops arguing."
Tomora glanced at him. "You scared?"
Azura snorted. "Of you? Please. I've seen idiots who tried to drink cursed water for strength."
Tomora grinned. "And?"
"They died," Azura said flatly.
The grin faded—only for a second—then returned, sharper. "Good thing I'm smarter than that."
Azura raised an eyebrow. "Debatable."
They stood there in silence for a moment, the pond humming faintly beneath Tomora's feet. Then Tomora tilted his head, curiosity creeping in.
"You keep saying I'm ready for the next step," he said. "So explain it properly."
Azura exhaled slowly, like someone preparing to dive underwater. "You've learned to shape. To compress. To adapt. But fights aren't just power contests."
He stepped into the clearing and planted his foot firmly into the frost.
"They're environments," Azura continued. "Momentum. Control. Fear. A domain isn't an attack—it's a statement."
Tomora blinked. "That didn't explain anything."
Azura smiled thinly. "Good. That means you're listening."
He closed his eyes.
The air changed.
At first, it was subtle—like the pressure before a storm. Then moisture began to gather from nowhere, tiny droplets forming midair, trembling as though uncertain whether they were allowed to exist.
Tomora sucked in a breath.
They multiplied.
Hundreds of droplets hovered around Azura, perfectly spaced, each one shimmering with unnatural clarity. They didn't fall. They didn't drift. They waited.
Azura opened his eyes.
"If someone steps into this," he said calmly, "they don't bleed. They don't scream."
One droplet drifted closer to Tomora's face, close enough for him to see his reflection warped inside it.
"They just stop," Azura finished.
Tomora swallowed. "That's… messed up."
"Efficient," Azura corrected.
Footsteps crunched behind them.
"So this is what you two have been hiding from us?"
Patricia emerged from between the trees, arms folded, eyeing the floating droplets with open suspicion. Jer followed, gaze sharp, calculating. Tala hung back, eyes wide, clearly torn between awe and worry.
Tomora turned, suddenly smug. "Hey, Patricia. Guess what?"
She squinted at him. "If this is another one of your 'look what I can do' moments—"
"Do you have a domain?" Tomora asked, far too cheerfully.
Patricia froze.
Her mouth opened. Closed.
"…No."
Tomora burst out laughing. "HAHAHAHA—seriously?! The great Patricia, undefeated captain, no domain?!"
She lunged for him.
"YOU LITTLE—"
Azura stepped between them without looking, droplets parting around his shoulders. "If you break him before training, I'm leaving."
Patricia stopped mid-step, fists clenched. "I raised him better than this."
Tomora pointed at her. "You raised a genius."
"You were three and tried to fight a goat."
"It started it."
Jer cleared her throat loudly. "Focus. Please. Before someone dies."
Azura nodded. "Thank you. Now—Tomora."
The droplets vanished all at once, the air snapping back into normality.
"You're not copying this," Azura said. "You're building your own."
Tomora rolled his shoulders, expression shifting from playful to intent. "Then teach me."
Azura stepped back. "I won't. I'll just make sure you don't kill us."
Tomora snorted. "Comforting."
He closed his eyes.
At first, nothing happened.
The forest sounds returned—birds, wind, distant water. Tomora's breathing slowed, each inhale deliberate, each exhale controlled. The glow beneath his skin dimmed, then steadied.
Moisture crept into the air again—but this time, it didn't copy Azura's pattern.
The droplets formed unevenly, swirling like a half-forgotten constellation. Frost bloomed at their edges, tiny sparks of ice forming and dissolving in rapid cycles.
Patricia leaned closer to Jer. "Is it supposed to look unstable?"
Jer shook her head slowly. "No. But it's not collapsing."
The temperature dropped.
Leaves stiffened. Breath fogged. Even Azura felt it—an unfamiliar chill brushing against his senses.
Tomora's brow furrowed.
The droplets snapped into alignment.
The clearing changed.
The ground beneath them darkened, frost spreading outward in a wide circle, stopping just short of the trees. Within it, the air thickened, heavy with pressure, water and ice coexisting in tense balance.
Tomora opened his eyes.
They glowed.
Not bright. Not wild. Focused.
"This feels…" he said slowly, "…right."
Azura's grin returned, sharp and genuine. "That's your domain."
Patricia let out a low whistle. "I hate prodigies."
Tomora smirked. "You love me."
"I tolerate you."
Azure—who had been watching silently from the edge of the clearing—finally spoke. "You still have a long way to go."
Tomora turned toward him, domain humming around his feet. "Good. I'd get bored otherwise."
Azure scoffed. "Big talk for someone standing on ice."
Tomora stomped once.
The frost didn't crack.
He grinned wider.
"Then try me."
The clearing held its breath.
And somewhere deep beneath the forest floor, something old shifted—aware, amused.