The training grounds of Terra Valis were carved directly into stone that pulsed with faint golden veins. Every strike here mattered. Every mistake was remembered — sometimes by the planet itself.
Alex stood at the center of the circle, wooden sword in hand, shoulders tense.
Around him, other trainees whispered.
"That's him.""The one who trains past curfew.""Too aggressive for his age."
Alex ignored them.
He always did.
"Begin," the instructor called.
Alex inhaled slowly and stepped forward.
The first form flowed smoothly — footwork precise, strikes clean. His body moved on instinct, shaped by years of grief-driven training. The second form followed, then the third. Each motion felt right.
Too right.
On the fourth strike, something changed.
The air resisted him.
Alex frowned, tightening his grip and swinging harder.
The wooden sword cut forward — and the world flinched.
A thin line appeared in the air.
Not light.Not shadow.
a tear, silent and wrong.
Time stuttered.
Dust hung frozen mid-fall.A bird above the grounds stopped mid-wingbeat.Sound vanished.
Alex's heart slammed against his ribs.
"What—?"
The tear widened for a heartbeat — just enough.
The practice dummy in front of him didn't split.
It ceased to exist.
Not broken. Not shattered.
Gone.
The world snapped back.
Sound crashed in all at once — gasps, shouts, panic.
Alex staggered back, dropping the wooden sword as if it had burned him.
The instructors rushed forward.
"Contain the area!""Stabilize the ley lines!""Who did this?!"
Alex couldn't breathe.
His hands shook violently as he stared at the empty space where the dummy had been.
"I… I didn't—" His voice cracked. "I didn't mean to."
The lead instructor turned slowly.
His expression was not anger.
It was fear.
"Alex," the man said carefully, "what did you feel when you swung?"
Alex swallowed hard. "Resistance. Like the air didn't want to move."
A murmur rippled through the elders.
"That's impossible.""No trainee can interact with space itself.""Unless…"
The instructor raised a hand for silence.
"Enough. Alex, you are dismissed."
Dismissed.
Not praised.Not punished.
Removed.
That night, Alex sat alone outside his home, wooden sword laid across his knees. His mother stood in the doorway, arms folded tightly around herself.
"They asked questions," she said quietly.
Alex didn't look up. "Am I in trouble?"
She hesitated.
"No," she lied. "They just… want you to rest."
He nodded slowly.
Inside, Lina laughed at something, her voice light and carefree. The sound twisted something deep in Alex's chest.
"Mom," he said, barely above a whisper, "what if I'm dangerous?"
She crossed the distance in three steps and knelt in front of him, gripping his shoulders firmly.
"Listen to me," she said. "Power doesn't decide who you are. Choices do."
"But what if I hurt someone?" he asked. "What if I can't stop it?"
Her grip tightened.
"Then we learn control," she said. "Together."
Alex nodded, but fear coiled in his stomach.
That night, when he slept, the dream came.
He stood alone in an endless white space. No sky. No ground. Just silence.
And in front of him — the tear.
Not thin this time.
Vast.
Something pulsed beyond it.
Not malicious.Not kind.
Aware.
Alex reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the air, a voice echoed — not spoken, but felt.
Not yet.
Alex jolted awake, gasping for breath.
Outside, the ley lines surged brighter than they had in years.
And far beneath Terra Valis, something ancient shifted — because for the first time in a long while…
a blade had answered back.