Four figures stood in the snow before Elder's home—Grey, Tear, Serene, and another boy—waiting silently as the Elder's sharp eyes scanned them. The cold air hung heavy with anticipation, their breaths misting faintly in the pale light of dawn.
"You have all comprehended the Doctrine of Will. You are our greatest hope for the future." Elder's voice carried a weight that settled into the bones of those listening. He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. Yet, as he looked at them—at Grey's sharp silver eyes, Serene's quiet focus, Tear's youthful but determined expression, and the steady presence of the new boy—he saw no regret. No hesitation. Even Tear, who had been fiddling with her hands moments before and giggling softly with Serene, straightened at the sound of his voice, her green eyes wide and attentive.
"I know the pressure on you is immense, and I thank you for undertaking this task." Elder's gaze lingered on each of them before shifting to the unfamiliar boy among their group. "Some of you know each other already, but… some of you may not."
He lifted a hand and pointed to each in turn, his introductions deliberate and measured.
"This is Grey, a hunter, and his little sister, Tear."
Tear gave a small nod, her turquoise hair catching faint glimmers of morning light. Grey, standing beside her, remained still, his silver gaze fixed on Elder.
"This is Serene, daughter of the tool makers, also a hunter."
Serene dipped her head slightly, her emerald eyes steady beneath a fringe of pale hair.
"And this," Elder's hand rested briefly on the new boy's shoulder, "is Forge, a builder."
Forge stood a head taller than Grey and Serene, his broad shoulders wrapped in a thick leather coat worn from years of labor. He was a man built like the homes he crafted—sturdy, dependable, and shaped by the weight of years spent hauling timber and setting stone. His hands, rough with calluses and faint scars, spoke of relentless work and quiet perseverance. A few loose strands of dark hair had slipped free from his low ponytail, framing sharp brown eyes that carried both warmth and a steady focus. They were the eyes of someone who measured strength and weakness with equal clarity—whether it was in a structure or in a person.
Elder stepped back slightly, clasping his hands in front of him. His voice softened, but the weight of his words remained firm.
"You will follow me to the village warehouse. There, I will teach you to read and write the script of our ancestors, the descendants of the great Giants. This is a knowledge that must be hidden—not just for your safety, but for the survival of our people. The Will you comprehend can act as a mask, shielding us from those who might seek to erase our existence."
He turned slightly, his gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the village as if he could see the shadows of threats lying just beyond the trees.
"All the knowledge I have collected, and the wisdom recorded by past Elders, rests in those tomes. Questions answered by the very first Elder of our people. And now… it will pass to you."
Tear gasped, her small hand flying up to her mouth as she processed the weight of those words. Beside her, Forge's brows furrowed slightly, his lips parting as if he might ask a question but thought better of it.
Serene's gaze remained steady, though her knuckles tightened around the fur-lined hem of her coat. Grey's expression didn't waver, but something in his eyes—some faint glimmer of resolve—sharpened even further.
Elder turned back to them, his voice once again clear and commanding. "This is not just knowledge—it is responsibility. Are you ready to carry it?"
For a moment, silence reigned. Then Grey stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm.
"We're ready."
With a final nod, Elder turned and began walking toward the warehouse, his steps slow but sure. Behind him, four figures followed—each carrying the weight of a future they could scarcely yet comprehend.
When they arrived at the obsidian-glass entrance to the warehouse, Elder repeated the same ritual Grey and Serene had witnessed before. He drew a small knife from within his robes, slicing a thin line across his palm. The blood welled up, crimson against his pale skin, before he pressed it against the smooth obsidian stone.
Tear gasped audibly as the stone pulled at the blood, glowing faintly as the light from Elder's necklace shimmered in response. The stone groaned, shifting like some ancient leviathan waking from slumber, and the entrance rumbled open.
"What—what just happened?" Tear's voice was barely above a whisper as she clung to Serene's hand.
Serene squeezed her fingers gently. "It's… the blood. It's how Elder opens the hall."
Tear stared at the glistening streak of red still smudged across the stone. "But… does it hurt? Does it always do that?"
Elder, overhearing, spoke without turning. "Pain is fleeting, child. What this door guards is worth far more than a drop of blood."
Forge let his rough hand trail over the polished surface of the obsidian stone as they stepped inside, his brow furrowed with fascination. "It's… impossibly smooth. The seams—there aren't any seams. No mortar, no cracks. It's as if the stone was poured here, shaped by something far beyond chisels and hammers."
Elder walked ahead, his necklace casting faint reflections against the glossy black walls. "This hall predates our village. Its construction is a question even the First Elder could not answer fully."
Tear, eyes wide with curiosity, turned her head upward as they walked through the grand hallway. "Do you think the ancestors built this? Did they live here? Is this their home?"
Elder chuckled softly ahead of them. "Perhaps, little one. Or perhaps it's something older still."
The corridor eventually widened into a massive circular chamber, the air warmer and filled with the faint scent of herbs and preserved oils. At its center stood an ornately carved white wooden table surrounded by chairs, each large enough to seat two grown men comfortably.
But Elder didn't pause. He led them past the grand chamber to one of the three enormous onyx doors embedded in the far wall. With a faint hum, it opened at his touch, revealing the room of knowledge.
The scent of parchment, dried herbs, and ink greeted them. Shelves lined every wall, crammed with ancient tomes, weathered scrolls, and sealed jars filled with exotic powders. A massive cauldron sat in the center. Wooden tables, each paired with worn stools, were scattered throughout the room. At one of these tables, Elder placed the scrolls, dark ink, and feathers he had gathered.
"We will start with script," Elder said firmly, arranging the supplies. "I will teach you to read them, then to write them. Then, I will see if the First Elder knows of any techniques to manipulate Will. It is unlikely due to his bloodline, but if we can imitate some spells like the strangers, it will add to the illusion we wish to present."
The Elder proceeded to show them the symbols first, patiently explaining their forms and sounds. Each was given parchment, ink, and a feathered quill. Soon after, Elder left them—presumably to consult the First Elder—his steps slow and deliberate as he carried his own stack of parchment into the deeper chambers of the hall.
The room fell into a focused silence, broken only by the faint scratching of quills across parchment and the occasional frustrated sigh when a character was drawn incorrectly.
After several long minutes, Tear let out an exaggerated yawn. "How much longer do we have to do this… I want to go to the smokehouse to train." She pouted, her ink-stained fingers smudging her latest attempt at one of the symbols.
"I'm getting pretty tired too, honestly," Serene admitted, stretching her arms behind her head with a groan.
Forge set down his quill with a faint clatter, leaning back on his stool. "I don't think I've sat this still during the day since I was younger than Tear. I wish I understood more of what we need to learn. I mean, Elder said Will is something we can use to understand the laws of the world… but what does that even mean?"
He paused, his deep brown eyes scanning the foreign symbols he'd painstakingly copied across the parchment. His voice grew quieter, heavier. "I want to help. I want to keep learning. But so much is riding on this, and I understand nothing. Even these symbols… I never thought to make such things. The knowledge I could have known, passed down… why has it been kept secret for so long? Why couldn't we help more?"
His words hung in the still air, heavy and raw.
For a long moment, none of them spoke. Tear's head lowered slightly, her turquoise hair falling in front of her face. Serene's lips pressed into a thin line as her emerald eyes darted between the others.
"I think it was danger…" Grey said quietly, breaking the silence. His silver eyes were distant, fixed on something beyond the room. "The strangers—they're different from us. Or maybe it was fear. If people knew… maybe they would have left too soon. Too soon for us to be prepared."
His gaze sharpened as he focused back on them. "I'm no expert, but I can explain a little about Will. Recently, I experienced just how powerful it could be. Since then, the feeling disappeared, but if any of us can capture that moment—"
He let the words hang in the air, his mind briefly returning to the river of Will he had seen during his trial—the endless, flowing current connecting every particle, every breath, every motion.
Tear perked up immediately, her earlier fatigue forgotten as she leaned forward eagerly. "Tell us what you saw! From outside, it was just scary-looking. Being attacked by weapons made from light and struck by lightning. Now our house is gone too."
"What?" Forge said, raising an eyebrow. "Your house is gone? What happened?"
Grey chuckled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, sorry about that. It—it was incredible, though. It was like staring at a creek—a perfect stream, countless small particles moving with absolute unity. All sorts of colors lit up my world."
His voice grew quieter, more reverent, as he spoke. "But it was more than that. Anything that went against the flow… it sent ripples out. The daggers that attacked me—they caused ripples. I could see the disturbances they made. And more than that… I could react to them."
Serene's eyes widened slightly, her lips parting as she absorbed his words.
Grey continued, his voice steady. "That's how I survived. Can you imagine it? Any harm that comes to you from an outside force—useless."
The room fell silent again as the weight of his words sank in. Even Tear, who had been hanging on every syllable, was quiet.
Grey glanced around at them, his silver eyes sharp with determination. "We have to learn more. If we can master this… if we can even begin to understand it… this village can live in peace. Under us."
For a moment, the weight of his words hung in the air. Then, Tear broke the silence with an exaggerated groan, flopping dramatically onto the table.
"Well, first we need to actually learn this scribbly stuff before we can save the village," she said, her turquoise hair spilling over her parchment. "I mean, look at this!" She held up her sheet, revealing smudged ink, uneven letters, and something that vaguely resembled a sideways stick figure.
Serene snorted, covering her mouth with one hand as she tried not to laugh. "Is that supposed to be a character, or did you just let the quill have a panic attack?"
Forge chuckled, leaning back on his stool and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I've seen planks of wood with better drawings, Tear."
Tear pouted, clutching her parchment protectively. "Hey! At least I'm trying. You're supposed to be the builder, Forge—shouldn't your letters be better? If you make houses like that, I'm scared the village will fall apart."
Forge grinned, holding up his own parchment with a flourish. His scrawls were bold and heavy-handed, the ink bleeding in uneven spots. "Behold! The architectural marvel that is my handwriting. Truly, the pinnacle of craftsmanship."
Grey leaned over to get a better look and raised an eyebrow. "Is… is that supposed to be the same symbol Elder showed us earlier?"
Forge shrugged with mock seriousness. "Obviously. It's the artisan's interpretation. A rustic charm, if you will."
Serene rolled her eyes. "Well, if we're ever in danger of the strangers discovering us through our writing, I think we can just hand them Forge's scroll. They'll spend so long trying to decipher it, we'll have time to run away."
The group erupted into laughter, even Grey cracking a faint smile as he shook his head.
Tear sat up, her face lighting up as an idea struck her. "Hey, Forge! If we're all supposed to pass down knowledge one day, who are you going to teach? A tiny little builder apprentice? Can you imagine me as your trainee? I could build walls twice as tall as anyone else's!"
Forge rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as if seriously considering it. "Hmm. I can see it now. Master Forge and Apprentice Tear! The most unstoppable building duo in the village. You'll carry the beams, and I'll… supervise."
Tear giggled uncontrollably, and even Serene leaned back with a wide grin. "Supervise, huh? I've seen Tear carry whole baskets of smoked meat. She'd be doing all the real work while you 'supervised.'"
"Hey now," Forge said, holding up his ink-stained hands in surrender. "I'm more of a visionary, alright? Every great builder needs someone to point dramatically at unfinished structures while squinting thoughtfully into the distance. Like this place, my head is filled with ideas now. How did they blend this black stone with the rest? How was it cut so perfectly?"
Serene sighed dramatically, clutching her chest. "Poor Tear. Doomed to an eternity of carrying beams while Forge stares off into the distance, mumbling about 'ideas'."
Tear gasped in mock horror. "Noooo! I refuse to be your apprentice now, Forge. I'll stick to the smokehouse and hunting with Serene!"
Forge clutched his chest as if struck by an arrow. "You wound me, Tear. Truly. My legacy… crumbling before my eyes."
The group slowly settled back into their work, though the air was lighter now, the tension replaced by the lingering warmth of shared laughter.
The faint scratching of quills resumed, accompanied by the occasional quiet chuckle or whispered joke.
For now, in the heart of the ancient hall, surrounded by ink, parchment, and the scent of herbs and history, they were simply four young people trying their best—each one carrying a piece of a future they would build together.