A purple and green striped dragonfly flew over the Sacer Trial Ground and observed the duels between men. And although it did not understand what it saw, it hovered above the humans, anyway. There was much the insect did not comprehend, especially concerning the ways of men. However, the dragonfly did know one thing—it had to beat its wings thirty times a second to stay aloft. And while this might sound incredible to humans, it was quite ordinary for the dragonfly.

One-thirtieth of a second—such an insignificant amount of time, yet a great deal can occur in such a minute span. When concerning the universe, the volume of events that transpire in one-thirtieth of a second borders on infinite, but on a single planet, like Heron, the number is considerably less, and on the Sacer Trial Ground, while a dragonfly watched, only a few. But these few mattered, not to the dragonfly, but to the Sacer General that attacked the child of Tri-star. For at that moment, four things occurred in a single beat of the dragonfly’s wings.

Zachariah attacked Caleb from behind—

The Sacer felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up—

A pearl white kado appeared before the defenseless boy—

Zachariah’s sword snapped at the hilt, sending the oak blade spinning over the General’s head!

The dragonfly’s wings continued to beat twenty-nine more times until the Sacer’s broken kado ripped through the insect. Then, when the wooded shaft reached its peak, gravity pulled it back to earth, where it sunk tip first behind the General.

How? was all Zachariah could say.

He could not look away from the white blade guarding the giant’s neck. Instead, he let his gaze wander down its length to the one gripping the hilt. Small, but calloused hands held the weapon with sturdy fingers. Zachariah knew whose hands those were, but he looked up anyway. Sapphire eyes blazed from beneath the white hood. Up this close, the General noticed just how young the boy was.

Fourteen? Maybe fifteen? Zachariah thought, but the boy’s age was not the actual mystery. How did he get here? That was the question that burned in the General’s mind. There were only a few possibilities, but none of them were feasible. With Shade Sight, Zachariah had kept track of his surroundings. Even while sparring with the other two, he was aware of this boy’s every movement, and at no time had he advanced. There must be thirty feet between where this boy was standing, and—the General felt something he had never experienced before while recruiting applicants—danger!

Years of trained instinct took control of the gray-haired warrior, and in a flash, the Sacer leaped backward to where the remnant of his kado was still sticking out of the ground. Then, in one motion, Zachariah tossed the useless hilt and scooped up his fragmented kado. The sword was no longer his desired length, but it was still a weapon, and that was what he needed.

What is wrong with me? Zachariah admonished himself. Why am I so jumpy? The thought almost made him laugh. He’s just a boy… But the General remembered what he felt. He recalled the assumption that caused him to retreat and seek his kado. Zachariah could still feel the hairs on the back of his neck. It’s simply not possible, he tried to convince himself. But… what if it was? The realization sent a shiver down the General’s spine but also drew a smile across his face.

Caleb let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thanks, Musa,” he said over his shoulder. “I owe you one.”

“No,” said the hooded boy as he lowered his kado. “Caleb, you, more than anyone, owe me nothing.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then did you have to wait so long? Another second, and I would have ended up like Saul.” Caleb pointed one oversized finger toward the unconscious heap splayed on the lawn. “That guy was fast! Saul never saw it coming… I take back what I said; Sacers are way scarier than your mom.”

Musa could not help but grin. No matter how bad the situation, Caleb could always lighten the mood. It was one of his many gifts. “True, but I think she probably cooks better.”

“Mmmmmm,” Caleb’s stomach started rumbling. “Don’t mention food; I’m starving! Man, I miss your mom’s cooking. She makes the best meat pies.”

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“Well, if you ever want to taste her food again, we need to impress that man.” Musa gestured toward the General.

“I believe we already did that,” said Caleb. “If Master is correct, they will want to know how we learned their techniques. At the very least, they will not let us simply leave. Worst case, they imprison us for the rest of our lives…”

“Oi, Caleb, and you call Saul the pessimist.”

“He is the pessimist. I’m a realist. Some people see the cup half empty, and others see it half full. All I care about is what’s in the cup.”

“Well, Mister Realist, what do you see in our cup?”

The young giant studied the Sacer and scratched his chin. “It looks to me like he’s waiting for us. He’s wary. My guess is he’s trying to figure out how you blocked his kado.”

“Caleb, you know what that means?”

“Yeah, it means he’s no longer going to hold back. Just like Master said he would do.”

“You’ve done enough,” said Musa. “I’ll take it from—”

“From here?” Caleb interrupted. “I don’t think so. I’m no spectator. That is not how Master taught us. If you fight, I fight.” The large boy placed a hand on Musa’s shoulder and squeezed it. “You go do your thing; I’ll have your back.”

“Thanks, Caleb.” The hooded boy took a few tentative steps toward the waiting Sacer.

Zachariah watched as the smaller boy approached. “Two-hundred ninety-six years,” he called out to Musa. The boy stopped to listen. “That is how long it’s been since someone blocked my kado. That is one of three things that surprised me today.” The Sacer held out his damaged sword, displaying where the hilt had once been. “The second is that pine snapped oak.” Zachariah raised an eyebrow. “That one stumped me a little… To my knowledge, the only way for a pine kado to do that is by using Reinforcement on the blade, but we both know you didn’t do that. Thus far, you haven’t used any Vigor.” The young boy remained silent. He knew the Sacer would figure this out, eventually. His Master told him as much. “That only means one thing,” the Sacer continued. “That’s not pine, is it?

Musa let out a breath. “No, Champion, it’s not.” the boy hesitated but admitted. “It’s eathel wood.”

Eathel wood! Zachariah knew it. Although impossible, there was no other solution. But the confirmation created more questions than answers. How would a farmer from Tri-star get eathel wood? The precious material only grew on one planet, the jungle world of Saltu. Over the centuries, many fortune seekers attempted expeditions into the jungles of Saltu, but most never came home. But those who did return brought back rare resources worth a king’s ransom. One of those natural treasures was eathel wood. Besides its unusually white appearance, the wood was legendary for its strength and hardness. Comparable to iron, human hands could not carve it.

“Tell me, boy, how did you carve that kado?” asked the General.

“Carve?” asked Musa. He genuinely sounded surprised by the question. “Our Master told us that no blade was to touch our kados. He said that true kados are not carved, but formed.” The boy presented his wooded weapon for the Sacer to see. “This is the shape of my training, my offering to the Kane.

“Honor Training,” Zachariah whispered. Another archaic practice that convenience and necessity had swept under the rug of history. In the old days, an instructor would give his students a long piece of wood and forbid them from cutting it. Instead, they told their students to form their kados through training. Every wing against an opponent, a practice dummy, a tree, or another kado would slowly beat the wood into the form best suited for the practitioner. Such weapons were not the fabrications of romantic ideas or the handiwork of last-minute warrior wannabes. They were tempered creations, formed and molded by their masters according to their abilities. It took years and thousands of training hours to shape these kados.

What kind of sadistic master would make a student use Honor Training with eathel wood? Well, I would, Zachariah confessed, if I wasn’t forbidden to teach outside of the Great Hall. And that brought up another mystery that needed answering. Who did train these boys? All the evidence pointed to a single conclusion—it had to be a Sacer. Not just any Sacer, but an elder. Someone who knew the ancient traditions. But those were also the ones least likely to break Sacer law. Again, another impossibility. However, impossibilities are like dominoes; once you believe one, the rest soon follow.

“What was the third?” asked the hooded boy.

“The third?” Zachariah was so deep in contemplation that he forgot his original train of thought. By the Shade, I am getting old. It’s hard to remain intimidating when acting like a feeble old man. How does Enoch do it? The answer came to him immediately. Right, he uses sheer overwhelming power.

“Boy,” said the General, surprising himself by the hardness in his voice. “If what you did is what I think it is, I will not be the last person surprised today. So tell me, what can you see?”

Zachariah pulled.

A kaleidoscope of colors in every tint and hue exploded from the air surrounding the Sacer! Countless threads of Vigor pour into the General, turning his white robes into a rainbow collage of ever-shifting light! Like storm clouds, more Vigor swirled into Zachariah’s brown eyes, setting them ablaze with blue flames!

“TELL ME, BOY!” Zachariah’s voice boomed like thunder. “WHAT DO YOU SEE?”

Musa cocked his head and examined the General… with sightless eyes.

“I see nothing,” said the boy. “I’m sorry, Champion, but I was born blind.”