The days following Kalen’s first successful attempt to balance fire and ice were grueling. Master Jorin and Mistress Lira pushed him harder with each session, their demands relentless. Every moment felt like a trial, as if his very survival hinged on mastering the two opposing forces within him.
On the fourth morning, Kalen woke to the sound of knocking at his door. He blinked, still half-asleep, his body aching from the constant strain of his training. The soft light of dawn filtered through the window, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
“Kalen, get up. You have a visitor,” came a voice from the hallway. It was one of the Hall attendants, his tone curt and businesslike.
“A visitor?” Kalen muttered, pushing himself upright. He hadn’t expected anyone—there was no one left in his village who would come to see him. His mind raced, wondering who it could be. Maybe one of the elders, or another cultivator sent to evaluate his progress. Whoever it was, it couldn’t be good news.
He quickly dressed in his training robes and made his way to the Hall’s entry chamber, where his visitor waited. As he approached, the familiar figure of a young man in white robes came into view.
“Taren?” Kalen’s eyes widened in surprise.
Taren was one of the few friends Kalen had back in the village. Unlike Kalen, Taren had come from a long line of cultivators, though his own Awakening had been underwhelming, granting him only the most basic control over the wind element. Still, he had always been the strongest in their village—until now.
Taren turned, his expression unreadable. “Kalen. It’s been a while.”
Kalen nodded, unsure of how to react. Seeing Taren here, in the Sacred Hall, felt strange. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d—”
“I’m here to challenge you,” Taren interrupted, his voice cold. The friendly warmth Kalen remembered from their time in the village was gone, replaced by something darker.
“Challenge… me?” Kalen echoed, confused. “What do you mean?”
Taren stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. “Word of your Awakening reached the village. They say you have the power of fire and ice—a rare gift. Everyone back home is talking about you, the nameless boy who was chosen. But I don’t believe it. I want to see for myself if you’re really as strong as they say.”
Kalen’s heart sank. He had never wanted to be a part of the village’s gossip. All he had ever wanted was to escape his ordinary life, to find something greater. But now it seemed that his newfound power had only brought jealousy and doubt from those he once called friends.
“Taren, this isn’t necessary,” Kalen said, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m still learning. The power I have… it’s dangerous. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Taren scoffed. “Hurt me? You think I’m afraid of you, Kalen? I’ve been training my whole life, preparing to carry on my family’s legacy. And now you, of all people, have surpassed me. I won’t accept it.”
Kalen clenched his fists. He could see the anger in Taren’s eyes, the frustration of someone who had always believed they were destined for greatness, only to have it snatched away. A part of him understood Taren’s pain, but another part of him knew that this fight would only end in tragedy.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“I don’t want to fight you,” Kalen said quietly.
“But you will,” Taren replied, stepping back and raising his hand. The air around him began to stir, a faint breeze picking up as he summoned the wind to his command. “Because if you don’t, I’ll force you.”
Kalen’s heart pounded in his chest. He had no choice. He couldn’t back down, not now. Taren’s pride was on the line, and refusing the challenge would only make things worse.
With a deep breath, Kalen summoned the fire and ice within him. The familiar heat and chill spread through his body, the elements responding to his call. He could feel the weight of both forces pressing against him, demanding his full attention.
“If this is what you want,” Kalen said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him, “then I’ll fight you. But I won’t hold back.”
Taren grinned, his eyes glinting with determination. “That’s more like it.”
The two stood facing each other in the courtyard, the wind swirling around Taren as Kalen’s flames flickered to life in his hand. For a moment, everything was still—the calm before the storm.
Then, without warning, Taren lunged forward, his hands slicing through the air as he summoned a gust of wind to strike at Kalen. The force of the wind was powerful, but Kalen had faced worse in his training. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a wall of fire to block the attack, the flames roaring to life in an instant.
The wind met the fire with a loud crack, the air swirling in chaos as the two elements clashed. But Kalen’s control was still fragile, and the flames wavered, struggling to hold their shape. He gritted his teeth, focusing all his energy on maintaining the fire, but the wind continued to batter against it.
Taren pressed his advantage, sending another blast of wind toward Kalen. This time, Kalen had no choice but to counter with ice. He raised his other hand, and a sharp sheet of frost formed in front of him, freezing the wind in its tracks.
For a moment, it seemed as though Kalen had the upper hand. But then the frost cracked, and the wind shattered it, sending shards of ice flying through the air. Kalen barely had time to dodge as the shards whipped past him, slicing into his robes.
Taren’s laughter echoed across the courtyard. “Is that all you’ve got, Kalen? You can’t even control your own power!”
Kalen’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. The fire and ice were fighting against each other again, pulling him in opposite directions. He could feel the heat rising, demanding to be unleashed, while the cold pressed against his mind, urging restraint.
*Balance,* he reminded himself. *Find the balance.*
He couldn’t let the elements control him. He had to control them.
With renewed focus, Kalen took a deep breath and raised both hands. The fire roared to life in his left hand, while the frost crackled in his right. This time, he didn’t let them clash. Instead, he guided them, shaping the fire into a focused stream and the ice into a sharp, controlled blast.
Taren’s eyes widened as the two elements shot toward him. He barely had time to summon a gust of wind to deflect them, but the force of the combined attack knocked him off his feet, sending him sprawling to the ground.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Kalen stood there, breathing heavily, the flames and frost fading from his hands. He hadn’t meant to hit Taren so hard, but he couldn’t afford to lose control again. His power was dangerous, and he couldn’t let his emotions dictate his actions.
Taren groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, his pride clearly wounded. He glared at Kalen, but the anger in his eyes had been replaced by something else—something darker.
“This isn’t over,” Taren spat, his voice laced with bitterness. “You may have won this fight, but you’re still nothing, Kalen. You’ll never be more than a tool for the elements to use. And when you fail, I’ll be there to take what’s mine.”
Without another word, Taren turned and stormed out of the courtyard, leaving Kalen standing alone.
The weight of Taren’s words settled heavily on Kalen’s shoulders. He had won the fight, but the victory felt hollow. No matter how much progress he made, there would always be those who doubted him—those who believed that his power was more a curse than a gift.
*I won’t fail,* Kalen told himself, though the doubt lingered in his mind. *I can’t afford to.*