The air was thick with tension in the Valley of Winds. The towering cliffs loomed like jagged fangs against the twilight sky, casting long shadows over the village nestled at the valley’s edge. For as long as Kalen could remember, the wind never ceased. It howled, it whispered, it roared. Some said it carried the voices of ancient spirits, others claimed it was the breath of the world's slumbering core. 

Kalen had little interest in legends. What concerned him now was the Awakening Ceremony.

The village’s young stood in a tight circle around the altar. Dozens of boys and girls, all with fear or excitement gleaming in their eyes, waited to step forward one by one. Today, they would learn if the spirits of the world would bless them with the power of cultivation—or cast them aside into the life of a mundane.

Kalen clenched his fists. He had no family name, no wealth, and no clan backing him. His only future lay in what the spirits granted him today. 

I have to awaken, he thought, staring at the crystal pillar at the center of the altar, its surface glowing faintly with azure energy. If the spirits blessed him, he'd be allowed to enter the Sacred Hall to begin his cultivation journey. Without it, he'd remain a powerless farmer forever, like his father.

A booming voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Jarek Orin, step forward.”

The first boy approached the altar, his shoulders squared, eyes alight with determination. As he placed his hands on the pillar, the energy in the air seemed to tremble. The light pulsed, and suddenly, a bright golden glow shot up from the crystal, swirling into the sky.

The elders nodded approvingly. "The Path of Lightning," one of them declared. "High potential."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Jarek grinned, stepping back to the murmurs of the gathered villagers. He had secured his place in the cultivation halls. Others stepped forward in turn, each with varying results. Some received faint lights, their futures dimmed by mediocrity. A few had no reaction at all—the spirits choosing not to favor them.

"Kalen," the elder called out.

The crowd fell silent as Kalen approached the pillar. His heart pounded in his chest. The moment his palms touched the cool surface, he felt a strange hum vibrating deep within his bones. At first, there was no response from the crystal, only a low hum. The seconds dragged on, and murmurs of doubt began to ripple through the crowd.

Kalen's nothing but a stray boy.

He doesn't have a clan, how could he awaken?

Then, without warning, the crystal flared—blindingly bright, far brighter than any before. The air around Kalen twisted as the glow surged with violent intensity. It wasn’t a single color, but a chaotic blend of red and blue, flames and frost twisting together like two opposing forces locked in battle.

Gasps echoed from the crowd, and even the elders looked unsettled.

“Impossible…” one of them muttered. “Fire and Ice… no one has awakened to dual paths in centuries.”

Kalen stumbled back, breathless as the light continued to swirl. The fire burned fiercely, but the cold bit into his skin as if winter had invaded his bones. He couldn’t move, his body frozen in place by the overwhelming power coursing through him.

“Dual elements,” the chief elder finally said, his voice grave. “This is no ordinary awakening.”

For a moment, Kalen felt elation. Dual elements! That meant twice the potential, twice the power. But as quickly as the excitement came, dread followed. Dual elements were rare, and those who possessed them often walked a path of danger. For the elements were not easily controlled, and they had the power to tear a person apart if not mastered.

“This one will need special training,” the elder added. “Send him to the Sacred Hall. Immediately.”

Kalen’s heart raced. His dream had come true—he would become a cultivator. But the weight of the elder’s words hung heavy over him. Mastering fire and ice was no simple task. Failure could mean death, or worse, losing control and becoming a danger to everyone around him.

As the villagers watched in awe, Kalen stood tall, fire and frost still swirling at his fingertips. He wasn’t just any cultivator. He was something more—something rare. But as he met the eyes of the village elder, the truth settled in his mind.

This was only the beginning