“Again!” Sivelle barked as an arrow flew wide right of its mark.

Atell groaned as he retrieved another arrow from the quiver, nocking it on the bowstring. He aimed carefully at the target across the lawn, unaffected by the sun’s glare as he drew the bow and fired. Another miss.

“Gah! Can’t I just… use a knife, or my hands, maybe,” Atell complained. He’d been practicing with the bow for over two weeks now, making little to no progress. Something about holding the weapon in his hands felt awkward, almost uncomfortable. His strength was more than adequate for fully drawing the recurve bow and firing arrows with tremendous speed, but his instincts seemed to be holding him back somehow.

“Have a little patience. Do you think yourself strong enough to kill a Mana Beast with your bare hands? Laughable.”

“Maybe not, but… is this really necessary?”

Sivelle rolled her eyes. “Of course it's necessary. Awakening your bloodlines is all about breaking through your limits, performing deeds that stimulate the latent power buried deep within your body.”

“I get that!” Atell’s frustration was starting to boil over. “But I mean... I already have one awakened. If I rouse both of them, won’t it just weaken me when they compete during the ritual? I don’t even want this stupid bloodline! Can’t I just perform the ceremony and be rid of it!” his shouts echoed across the ridge.

“Don’t be so stubborn, Atell. You will need strength to achieve your revenge. You can’t escape this fact. Not awakening the blood of the Auric Wolf before your ceremony is the same as crippling yourself. Do you believe that the Mountain Trolls are superior? The Aurelians ruled over your tribe for a reason…” Sivelle explained patiently, unperturbed by Atell’s annoyance. The words were harsh, she knew, but the boy needed to come to terms with his heritage or his progress would be limited in the future.

Atell paced around the yard, waving his hands maniacally as he verbally assaulted the Auric Wolf in his mind. He didn’t even know if this hunting ritual was the proper way to awaken his other bloodline, but it was his best guess at the moment. Frustration continued to mount as he thought about all the work that had led up to this point. The Initiate Ceremony was within his grasp, he was so close… until his contemptible lineage reared its head to shackle him once more.

After Sivelle had agreed to assist him with Initiate Ceremony, he had completely devoted himself to earning money in order to fund it: Venturing off into the surrounding forests to collect his own ingredients, working well past their usual hours in the greenhouse to brew his own simple potions and remedies. The successes were few, and of low quality, but by selling them to Miss Lotti he could still earn a sizeable chunk of money.

His original goal was to become an official Warlock before the subsequent New Years Festival, but now that timeline had long since elapsed, further inciting Atell’s craze. Another year on this damn mountain and he felt he had nothing to show for it aside from the jingling coins in his pouch. What good would that do for his tribe?

Money was easily earned with his growing skill in Alchemy, but power still eluded him. Hard work alone wasn’t enough to achieve his goals.

Sivelle took note of his determination and likewise imposed more demanding standards on his performance and schedule. The exercise routine in the morning was adjusted further to push his body past its limits, and the old Concocter was no longer satisfied with him simply watching and learning during her work. His body was able to manage the workload but his mind struggled to keep pace. Both activities required intense concentration and precision for long periods of time, exhausting Atell mentally.

If that wasn’t enough, she also began giving him short lectures at night after her daily inspection of the Whispering Gorge. Anything ranging from advanced Concocting techniques to the foundations of magic, and even to learning Ibmurin, the language used by the Dynasty’s upper echelons. Atell originally found the language lessons to be absurd — as pretty much everyone he’d ever met spoke Common to an extent — but Sivelle insisted that it was necessary because ‘As a Warlock, he would be more likely to interact with members of high society’. Atell begrudgingly agreed with this point despite his lack of interest in interacting with such people.

The long days were almost as grueling as those he’d experienced in the mine, but initially... everything seemed to be going according to plan, even exceeding his expectations. Atell felt himself improving daily as his debt quickly dwindled. His outlook was bright and his body full of vitality... all was on the right track until the warm weather took a turn.

Winter arrived just as he hit a wall, stagnating for well over the entire season. When he approached Sivelle with the necessary money to purchase an Origin Crystal, she had demanded that he Awaken his other bloodline before she would assist him. This led to thoughts of seeking outside help, but Atell couldn’t bring himself to trust a complete stranger and it was likely there was no better candidate than Sivelle in the area to perform the job.

The main issue was that he had no idea how to complete this task. He hadn’t even known what a Bloodline Awakening was until he’d accidentally ignited his Troll bloodline by nearly killing himself. And the Aurelians obviously hadn’t divulged any of their secrets to a mixed-blood like himself.

After thinking about the topic for weeks, taking shelter from the biting wind and snow, Atell finally concluded that his best bet was to recreate the Great Hunt that the Aurelians carried out on occasion.

During the Great Hunt, members of the Clan both young and old would ride out into the Northern Forest and hunt for days on end, returning bloodied but victorious. There was no predetermined time when they would commence a Hunt, nor was there a specific number of days it would proceed. On the surface, it seemed completely random.

Atell only assumed it was the key to ending his worries because he clearly remembered Raiden had become an Initiate almost directly after returning from his first Great Hunt. Although, he still had no idea what would occur during the event… what trigger was necessary to awaken the blood?

Sivelle had agreed with his assumptions when he brought it up and began taking him out on her incursions to the Gorge. She taught him all about tracking, the habits of the forest’s denizens, processing kills, and so much more.

Now, Atell found himself learning the bow. The final step before Sivelle would let him make an attempt at taking down a suitable Mana Beast.

But once again Atell found himself faltering, the bow fought desperately against his attempts to master it...

“Ahh—! This is taking too long!” Atell released his inhibitions, shouting to the sky.

Sivelle approached and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt cool energy enter his body, soothing the lava in his veins and placating the raging tide.

“Why are you in such a hurry? Becoming an Initiate won’t allow you to immediately resolve your grievances. It is merely the first step on a long path. And if your first step is unstable, you will have to struggle to correct your balance with each subsequent one. Swinging back and forth, all until you eventually teeter off the path completely.”

“I know... but I’m already older than 10! Raiden was barely even 9 years old when he advanced.”

“Is this what is bothering you? Some petty rivalry?” Sivelle laughed. “Why does your age even matter?”

“I don’t know… But everyone in the Clan seemed to think it was an amazing achievement. They hailed him as a prodigy,” Atell grumbled in reply.

“I can tell you with confidence that the time of advancement matters not as long as it is before the age of 12. Naturally, some will progress faster than others, but this is only due to their access to resources and knowledge. What’s most important is building a stable foundation. I can’t stress this enough. We of the Ancestral Races live for hundreds of years, child. A small headstart won’t make a difference in the long run.”

“...Ok.”

“Diligence and patience will take you far,” Sivelle reminded. “You’ve made great progress, Atell. The task is daunting, but victory will only taste that much sweeter. Now, fire again.”

Atell adjusted his posture, pulled back the bowstring and loosed. A satisfying thunk rung in his ears for the first time…

***

Sitting beneath a rocky overhang, Atell listened to soft and steady patter of rain. With nothing else to occupy his time, he reflected on the ‘Great Hunt’ thus far.

Calling it such was a farce, considering he spent the majority of his time doing exactly as he was now — cowering under cover, trying to wait out the winds and rain heralding the coming of Spring.

Conditions were poor so they’d started slow, tracking deer, rabbits, and other Mundane creatures. Atell managed to pick a few off with his bow, collecting skins and meat to sell back in town. But more often than not, his shots were errant, squandering hours of effort.

Sivelle stood by his side throughout, occasionally offering advice but mostly allowing him to work on his own. It was her understanding that Awakening rituals required the candidate to put forth their own efforts. The Ancestors would not acknowledge those who received outside help during their trials.

So, after a few days of practice, he turned his attention to some of the weaker Mana Beasts roaming around. Brukies, in particular, had a large population and weren’t considered very dangerous by the local hunters, making them an easy target. The rodents worked in pairs, their small and nimble bodies incessantly chasing each other through the trees.

Atell had seen them many times throughout their journey. They appeared relatively harmless and he enjoyed their playful chatter and long bushy tails. He even found their mushed faces and wide, round eyes endearing for a time. If Sivelle hadn’t informed him otherwise, he would have mistaken them as yet another Mundane species. Regrettably, his first encounter with the creatures abruptly flipped his favorable opinion of them on its head.

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Two Brukies sat high in the branches of a tree, cleaning each other’s fur while Atell squatted down below in a nearby bush, carefully taking aim at the busiest of the two. He knew as soon as he released his grip — the missile flew true. It was a sensation he’d developed after handling the bow for a sufficient amount of time. A second arrow was swiftly nocked in anticipation of taking down the partner.

However, he quickly learned that Mana Beasts were not simple targets like the Mundane. Mocking squeaks sounded from above as the arrow swerved off course. Atell was shocked, but he didn’t have time to comprehend his failure as a verdant blade of wind sliced towards him.

His heart palpitated when he realized he had no room to dodge. A second blade was already bearing down on him from behind. Atell squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting his impending death... but it never arrived.

Cool wind brushing across his exposed skin alerted him to his survival. He looked down, immediately noticing the lack of a gaping slash across his chest. Another similar breeze flowed across his back alerting Atell to the reality of the situation — the Brukies attacks were harmless. It took a conscious effort to choke down his anger when he saw Sivelle standing behind him with an amused smile on her face.

High pitched screeches echoed through the air as another pair of wind blades ruffled his clothes. The little critters waved their tiny fists, seemingly infuriated by the lack of damage. They were out for blood as they leaped through the branches, sending forth a volley of attacks.

Atell simply shrugged them off as he took up aim once more. Yet, just as futile as their efforts were to harm him, so to were his own. None of his arrows could come close before being pushed aside by a gust of wind, and he was nowhere near quick enough to chase the beasts on foot.

Both parties eventually came to a ceasefire when Atell’s quiver was emptied and the rodents were out of Mana. The Brukies chittered at him a few more times before dashing away. It was a thoroughly disappointing affair for all the parties involved aside from Sivelle.

Throughout that day Atell continued taking on the irritating vermin, to no avail. Their chirps and squawks haunted his dreams.

Discouraged by his lack of results, Atell switched targets, aiming for Burrowers the next day. But once again, he was met with failure. He could reliably sneak up on the fat moles if he maintained a sufficient distance; however, their hides were thick, stone-like in nature and could easily shrug off any arrows. Then, after the initial surprise attack, they would disappear into the earth. Alternatively, if he tried to creep too close, they would sense the vibrations in the ground produced by his steps and make a quick escape. Another day of thrilling failures was cut short by a sudden bout of rain, bringing him to where he was now — wallowing in misery.

“Doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon. We’ll rest here for the night,” Sivelle announced as she swept into the cover.

Atell sighed, bringing his head to rest on his knees.

“Why so glum?” Sivelle teased.

“How… How am I ever going to finish this?”

“Before I answer, I want to hear your thoughts.”

“I just can’t get anywhere near these creatures without them detecting me! And I’m not accurate enough to hit any vitals with the bow. They’re too alert and resilient anyway…” Atell complained.

“So, what do you think you should do?”

“Invade their dens, maybe? Corner them, or find a situation where they won’t run?”

“A possibility…albeit a dangerous one.” They sat quietly for a few moments, staring out at the curtain of descending water. “I think you’re going about this in the wrong way,” Sivelle finally spoke, disturbing their reverie. “The Auric Wolf was a beast who dreamt of devouring the sun. A mortal that climbed to the apex of this world by circumventing the pack-minded nature of its species, surpassing all in its path until it dared to challenge a God. In the end, the wolf failed and was struck down by Helios for its insolence... I know little else of the wolf’s legend, but it does shed light on the potential trials he may have set for his descendants.”

Atell turned to face Sivelle as she continued on, “You’ve seen it yourself, these Brukies and Burrowers pose no threat. They may be Mana Beasts but they’re non-aggressive species, content to forage and live peacefully with skillsets to match. You must display your courage, confronting a powerful opponent even if failure means death. I think you’ve been too unsure of yourself, unwilling to embrace your instincts.”

“...Those Brukies seemed awfully eager to bring me harm.” Atell grumbled, eliciting a chuckle from Sivelle.

“They just enjoy making mischief.”

“Then... what would you have me do?” Atell sighed.

“Stop hesitating. Face this challenge head-on. I can tell deep down, that you still don’t desire to complete this trial. You fear that if the Auric Wolf emerges the victor in your Initiate Ceremony, that you will become one of the people you despise. However, you must understand that it is your actions that will determine who you are and what you will become — not the blood that flows through your veins.

“Gah!” Atell groaned. “I just… can’t! My grandfather has always wanted me to lead the tribe… how will they accept me if I become one of those wolves?”

Sivelle laughed. “Show them with your actions! If your family still cannot accept you for who you are, then they are not worthy of your love and devotion.”

Atell laid back, feeling the soft dirt against his back through the cloak. If it was his uncle Irth, the man would have likely charged straight into the forest, bellowing a challenge to all within earshot. Irth would do whatever it takes to get justice for the tribe, then worry about the consequences later. The thought brought a smile to his face. He was eager to see his family again. Tenshi was approaching the end of his years and Atell was determined to fulfill the man’s wishes before his passing. He couldn’t allow himself to falter here.

“Alright, I’ll do it properly.”

“Very well. Trust your instincts, they will not lead you down the wrong path.”

***

Melodious bird calls echoed between the trees as the midday sun burst through the gaps in the canopy. Atell inhaled deeply through his nose, enjoying the earthy smell that always follows the rain.

He stalked carefully through the brush, eyes darting about in search of signs to locate a suitable adversary. His steps were slow but steady, continuing on in this manner for hours until the heavens finally blessed him with an opportunity.

Deep claw marks were carved into a nearby tree trunk, accompanied by the pungent odor of urine — clear signs of a Jade Mountain Lion marking its territory.

‘Perfect...’ Atell mumbled to himself. They were solitary creatures, uncommon in the area as they were frequently poached for their vivid green claws that would be fashioned into jewelry. From what he knew, small teams of hunters were usually required to cooperate in order to take one down, but his gut told him this was the opportunity he had been searching for.

Atell continued to follow the trail until he arrived near a narrow creek cutting through a clearing. The metallic scent of blood assaulted his nose as observed the Mountain Lion enjoying its meal.

Suddenly, the beast lifted its bloody maw from the entrails of the deer to sniff the air. Atell shifted uncomfortably in the shadows at the edge of the glade, fearing his approach had already been exposed even though he positioned himself downwind.

Fortunately, it seemed the beast was just being cautious as it quickly lowered its head back towards the feast. Dense muscles rippled beneath its motley brown hide as Atell slowly drew his bow.

Felling the beast with a single arrow was well outside of his expectations, but he at least hoped to hinder its mobility with the opening strike. He took a deep breath as he aimed…

A sharp hiss pierced whistled the air as the arrow sliced across the Mountain Lion’s hind leg, drawing blood. Atell was surprised how deep the wound was, maybe the beast had less defensive abilities due to its more predatory nature.

But there was no time to think further, and barely enough space between them to fire a second shot as the beast barreled towards him without a moment's hesitation, blood dripping from the fangs bared in a nasty snarl.

The second arrow glanced off the Mountain Lion’s side as it roared, tensing its muscles to leap through the air. Luckily, this motion seemed to aggravate its wound, eliciting a grimace and an off-balance assault.

Adrenaline coursed through Atell’s body in this moment of desperation. He rolled awkwardly to the side as a shower of dirt obscured his vision.

He tried to scramble to his feet but was immediately knocked back down by a casual swipe of the beast's paw. Atell quickly found himself face to face with the Jade Mountain Lion. Hot breath tickled his ears as saliva dripped onto his face.

Fresh blood oozed across Atell’s chest as its bright claws pressed him into the ground. The wound wasn’t deep, but it continued to enlarge as the beast pressed more of its weight forward.

In a flash, rows of sharp teeth approached from above.

A desolate howl, long forgotten in the tides of time, filled Atell’s ears as his blood ignited. Waves of intense heat surged through his veins with each rapid pulse of his heart. He reached up purposefully, an astonishing clarity guiding his actions as he gripped each edge of the Mountain Lion’s open jaw.

With a strength unbecoming his youthful body, Atell was able to temporarily halt the maw’s descent. The intense heat circulating through his body gushed into his palms. It felt as though his hands had been submerged in the fire as he strained every muscle to its limit. Atell similarly bared his teeth as he stared defiantly into the lion’s bloodshot eyes.

A bestial roar emerged from the depths of his chest, gathering strength in his lungs before it rumbled through his throat. Atell pushed upwards with all his might as the primal noise escaped his lips. The reluctance, heat, and anger concentrated in his body seemed to release all at once as the monstrous beast toppled over.

As Atell rose from the dirt, the Mountain Lion clawed frantically at its own skull. There was no evidence of injury, yet it remained writhing in pain. But no matter how it squirmed and resisted… whatever plagued its body would not recede. The beast spasmed continuously, smoke pouring out its orifices until it fell silent with a final twitch.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air as Atell approached his kill, lost in the thrill of conquest. Sharp claws emerged from his fingertips as he plunged his hand deep into the beast’s chest. Insatiable desire consumed his mind as he retrieved its heart. He gazed around for the tallest tree nearby before scrambling up its trunk.

Atell swayed precariously at the ancient tree’s apex, lifting his offering above his head as he roared, declaring his victory to the heavens. Once again, his blood ignited as a blinding bolt of lightning descended from the cloudless sky to consume the crimson heart held high above his head.

Slowly, the heart dissolved into ash... to be carried away by the breeze.

As the adrenaline continued to drain from Atell’s body, he released one final, shuddering sigh, then clambered back down to the ground. Sivelle was waiting for him. He squared his shoulders and looked into her eyes. Her gaze carried a hint of anticipation as she waited for him to speak.

“It was... a success…” Atell announced between breaths

Sivelle nodded. “Good. I’ve already salvaged the lion’s claws and Beast Core. Now, we just need to find a place to camp… and get you cleaned up.

Atell managed to chuckle as he looked down at himself. His clothes were in tatters, soaked in sticky blood.

“It wasn’t the most… graceful fight I’ve ever seen.” Sivelle admitted.

“I just slipped…” Atell mumbled, defensively.

Sivelle laughed as she guided him out of the clearing.

“Should we, uh… clean up?” Atell asked, looking over his shoulder at the smoking corpse.

“No need. There’s already a sizeable pack of Timber Wolves nearby, eagerly awaiting a fresh meal.”

A shiver ran down his spine as Atell hurried after Sivelle. That night, he fell into a long-awaited, deep slumber.