“Fewl, you’re the light of my soul. The beacon of hope in a demon’s world,” Pia exclaimed as she read through the notes.

Class had just ended, and she’d finally had a chance to read over his work. He’d written notes on the strategies of war, celestial arrays, the dangers of demonic poison, and the balance between the five elements and nature.

Conch had trailed out with their classmates, caught up in another conversation.

Fewl laughed softly at her words. Now that classes were over, his mood was relaxed.

“You always say that when I help,” he teased.

Pia’s eyes gratefully took in each note. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the theories or the practical applications. Writing about them from an academic perspective was her struggle.

“Stoneface never gives me leeway on my writing,” she said sourly.

Fewl let out a sigh as he tidied his desk.

“Don’t call him that,” he said, probably for the millionth time in his life.

When Pia didn’t reply, Fewl looked back at her. Though her eyes were on the book, there was a distant look in her eyes, and she twirled a braid around her fingers. Pia’s moods were always clear when she played with her braids. Angry Pia had her toss them over her shoulder. Worried Pia had her twirling them around her fingers.

Fewl’s eyes wandered from her fingers to her face. Seeing the bruising there made him angry all over again. Pia refused to tell them who harassed her. “Oh, it’s just a training accident” excuses had finally stopped at least. He and Conch had never believed those.

He didn’t ask her. Not about the bruise and not about her worry. Fewl felt a wry smile tug at his lips. Asking Pia anything would get no answer. Eventually she’d tell them, on her terms.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

With a nod, Pia rose and tucked the book into her inner robes and led the way out of the building.

Conch was sitting on a log near the path entrance, waiting for them. He was chewing on the end of a stalk of Sweetgrass, eyes distant.

“Survived your fans?” Pia teased, startling him from his daydreams.

He gave them a long-suffering sigh and stretched his arms wide.

“You both have no idea how exhausting it is to be so adored,” he said.

Leaning over, Pia plucked a twig from the ground. Holding it out before her, Pia bowed deeply in mock reverence.

“God of Humility and Dignity,” Pia called out solemnly, as if offering incense to the gods. “Hear my plea!”

Laughing, Conch swept a leg at her, but Fewl flicked a spray of wind yi at him, shoving his leg aside. Pia stood up laughing.

“Cheap shot,” Fewl said, shaking his robe sleeves out and giving Conch a flat look.

“Look at you two, taking sides against me. I’ll never overcome this betrayal,” Conch said with mock hurt.

Fewl strolled past not bothering with an answer. Conch gaped at him, still holding onto his fake hurt. Pia stuck her tongue out at Conch and followed Fewl.

“My heart!” Conch wailed from behind them.

Sharing a look, Fewl and Pia smirked. The pair continued nonchalantly down the path.

In moments, Conch trotted to catch up, smiling as if nothing had happened. The three continued their way down the path in amiable silence. Squirrels and birds scampered around the forest, filling the air with the lively sounds of the forest.

Near the end of the path, before Dwelling’s front gate was visible, the path split into two. There, Pia stopped.

“Shrine tonight?” Pia asked them.

“After the second watch,” Fewl agreed.

“I’ll bring food,” Conch said, as if he didn’t always.

“I’m off to train. Don’t miss me too much!” she said, then flew off down the right side of the path.

“I hate when she gets the last word like that,” Conch told Fewl, shaking his head.

“By the time you think of a reply, the following month has arrived,” Fewl said dryly.

Before Conch could say a word, Fewl leapt to the treetops, skimming across the limbs towards home. Left alone, Conch laughed good naturedly at Fewl’s sly humor all the way back home.

Pia trained on the mountain until her legs ached and then she trotted back to town, using the main entrance. She was too tired to chance fate today. Pia went straight to Dedication and poured herself into her studies. Fewl's notes helped immensely, but after three hours her eyes blurred from strain. Stained and crumpled paper lay in piles around her. Arms spreading wide, Pia stretched her back and arms, feeling the muscles shiver in relief at the release of tension. Looking out the window, Pia saw it was time to meet her friends. She pinched her fingers together, pulling the air from the candle with her yi, and left as the smoke still trailed from the wick.

The moon hung low and ripe, a peach in the darkness of the night. Crickets and frogs sang their calls while the village of Dwelling slept. The gates were closed and guarded by sleepy soldiers. Watchmen paraded the street, protecting the people and enforcing the curfew. A few dogs barked as they went by, but silence reigned across the village.

Three figures made their way through the darkened village. One came from the west, from the mercantile district. The figure leapt lightly across the rooftops, skimming through the air soundlessly. From the eastern military complex, another figure darted on silent feet through the shadow swept alleys. The last figure came from the south, the furthermost part of town. This figure brazenly walked down the main path, seeming to casually stroll without a care in the world.

The figure from the west leapt over the wall with ease. The figure from the east slipped through the soldiers’ barracks and out a gate unseen. The figure from the south cut across the main path, to the trees on the north-eastern side of the town. With no difficulty the figure made their way up the tree and jumped from treetop to treetop until safely out of town.

All three figures made their way to their meeting point. Fewl was the first to reach the hidden grove. He pushed aside the branches and took a seat on the grass. Conch and Pia arrived at the same time and eagerly joined him.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You always gotta be first,” Pia said, a hint of whine in her tone.

Fewl grinned smugly up at her. Bathed in the moonlight streaming down, his pale skin truly made him appear an ice prince. Handsome, cold refined features, and that strong jaw. He gave her a boyish grin and the image melted away. She grinned back at him.

“You’re just too slow,” Conch teased her.

Before she could complain, he placed his bag in the center. The smell of food filled the air with rich, savory scents.

“Your mother is the goddess amongst mortals,” Pia exclaimed with glee.

“You need a new phrase,” Conch complained, but he smiled warmly at the compliment it had held.

Conch’s mother had packed steamed buns, warm meat pies, sauteed vegetables, three large bowls of rice, and even a pot of tea and osmanthus cakes.

Fewl helped Conch lay it out while Pia dug around in her own bag. With a happy smile she produced a wooden box of incense, a bowl of sand, and three cups. She gave the cups to the boys and got up.

Pia had been the one to find this grove, though she’d never told them the exact manner in which she did. It was deep into the forest, down a steep hill, and tucked neatly under a rock overhang. Fewl and Conch had suspicions that she’d fallen in but wouldn’t admit it. Still, once she had found it, Pia had been quick to share it with them. The Shrine of the Divine Descent was what she’d introduced it to them as. The name further convinced the boys of how she’d found it.

The name changed as often as her mood. One day it might be the Shrine of the Cursed Scholar. On another, the Shrine of the Immortal Teenagers.

“What shrine are we praying to today?” Fewl asked her, cupping a bun in his hand.

It was always a shrine because Pia, in her first visit, had found an abandoned shrine box there. It had no murals, decorations, or inscriptions. Either time, weather, or robbery had eradicated the shrine’s identity. Perhaps all of the above. For the five years they’d visited the shrine they had often discussed their speculations. Still, Pia always brought incense to offer.

Today, she put the bowl in the box, lit three incense sticks, and bowed three times before it. The tantalizing, warm scent of osmanthus curled through the night air. Smoke trailed light and pleasant in the grove lingering amongst them.

“This is the Shrine of Three Koi Fish and an Orchid!” Pia declared then. “Endless success and prosperity shall be ours!”

The boys groaned.

“That’s the worst one yet,” Fewl said with dismay.

“I liked the Shrine of the Miserable Scholar better,” Conch agreed, grinning cheekily at Fewl.

Pia came back to join them.

“It was the Cursed Scholar,” she reminded him.

“I’m surprised you even remembered the meaning of koi and orchids,” Fewl said around a bite of a meat bun.

“Don’t hog all the buns,” Conch told Fewl as he saw him reach for another before Pia even had one.

“Of course I do. I have… three words for you. No, wait—six!” Pia said, thinking out loud.

“Let’s hear them,” Conch said.

Both boys stared at her in expectation.

With a dramatic flair, Pia cleared her throat, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ultimate success, unparalleled growth, immortal prowess!" she declared, her voice rising proudly.

The boy groaned loudly.

“Forget martial arts, go be a shaman,” Fewl said, shaking his hand at her.

“I’m with Fewl this time,” Conch said laughing.

“Just watch. We’re going to conquer the whole world!” Pia said, voice determined as she doubled down.

Seeing Fewl going for another bun, Pia quickly grabbed one. They all loved buns, but Fewl was shameless about eating them all if he got the chance.

The three ate every bit, not a single grain of rice left. Conch snagged the last osmanthus cake while Pia topped off their cups.

Silence descended upon them as with full bellies their solemnity returned. Conch leaned back on his hands and stared up at the starry sky. Fewl remained sitting upright but his gaze was distant. Pia rolled her cup between her palms.

The words they wanted to say weren’t easy for any of them. Not even Conch.

It surprised all three of them when Pia spoke first.

“I’ve been waiting so long for selection, but I thought about it today. In just a few days, we’ll go off in our own directions,” her voice was hesitant. “We’ve never been apart for long.”

“First, you have to pass the test,” Conch teased gently.

“You too,” Fewl reminded him, offering a strained smirk.

“It will be challenging,” Fewl said after a long silence. “Written tests and physical examinations. It’ll be a long, intense day of showing off our skills.”

“I’m confident we’ll all pass,” Conch said, his voice strong and steady.

Pia’s gaze turned distant, her mind racing with unspoken thoughts. “We’ll be apart for so many years,” she said softly, finally voicing the hurt they had all been hiding.

“We can write,” Conch replied, trying to sound cheerful. “Lumi sent my mom so many letters that my brothers said it was like he never left home.”

“Letters won’t be the same!” she said, a bit of frustration making her voice harsher than she meant.

“We’re fourteen, Pia,” Fewl said, a bit of anger in his voice. “We can’t stay children forever.”

Stung, Pia crossed her arms across her chest.

Conch lightly punched his arm, seeing the hurt in her eyes. Fewl winced, feeling guilty immediately. He wished he’d swallowed his words.

“Sorry I can’t be perfect like Emperor Fewl,” she hissed at him.

“Don’t be idiots,” Conch said sternly to both.

Neither Pia nor Fewl handled emotional issues well, and Conch hated when they took it out on the other.

“I’m sorry,” Fewl apologized first. “I regretted it as soon as I said it.”

Voice still a bit frosty, Pia said, “So formal.”

Then she relented and nodded to him, as much as her apology as an acceptance of his.

“We’ve known it was coming. It’s just the next part of our journey, not the end,” Conch said gently, reassuring himself as much as them.

“At minimum, we will only be gone for three years,” Fewl chimed in.

“Only,” Pia said, bitterness tinging her voice.

Silence lapsed as they sank into their thoughts. Three years was the minimum time an apprentice had before becoming a disciple. Apprentices underwent grueling training to fight for a position as a disciple. The unsaid truth was that three years was only the minimum—some students took years before they were accepted as a disciple. It solely depended on the Master or sect and the student’s accomplishments.

In just days they’d go from seeing each other daily to…not at all. Pia trusted them wholeheartedly; knew they’d never forget her. Still, they were the closest thing to a family she had. The thought of being separated from them indefinitely was…terrifying. It was a knife in her chest, the anticipation to leave and the sorrow of parting with them. It was hard to reconcile the conflicting feelings.

Each were lost in their thoughts. They’d put off speaking about this day and now their time together was almost over. It was ripping open a wound, with no salve to balm the hurt.

Digging her finger into the grass, Pia followed an ant with her finger. The soothing motion of curling her finger through the green blades bled tension from her body. Three years wasn’t so long. They’d be seventeen then, and disciples.

Out of habit, Pia began to etch a simple wind talisman into the grass. The familiar motion soothed her fraught nerves. It was the first way she’d ever managed to pull on yi, and the act felt nostalgic, like a piece of her soul returning to her. Talismans could be tweaked from person to person, and as she drew the gentle, flowing lines that commanded the life essence of wind, memories of laughter and shared dreams with Fewl and Conch surfaced, grounding her in the moment. She smiled and released the talisman. A whoosh of air surged through the grove, carrying with it the scent of incense that filled her senses.

Her eyes widened as an idea sparked within her. She turned to her friends, an almost manic excitement lighting up her face.

“I have an idea!” she exclaimed.

Both boys gave her a wary look.

“Hear me out,” she said, then proceeded to tell them all about it.

“That…could work,” Fewl said. “The drawing would have to be perfect. Each of us in perfect sync during each step.”

“I can do the drawing,” Conch offered. “Just tell me what you are thinking.”

Pia looked around the meadow, taking in the calmness of the shrine, the gentle sway of the bamboo, before her gaze landed on the shrine box. Her head swiveled back to them, a small smirk on her lips.

Using a bit of fire yi, Pia quickly sketched a design in the air before them. Three fish encircling an orchid.

Fewl and Conch both grimaced.

“What is that?” they asked at the same time, disbelief evident on their faces.

Giving them a flat look, Pia said, “Three koi and an orchid.”

“Those were fish?” Fewl asked, staring at the fading drawing with shock.

“I’m definitely doing the drawing,” Conch decided, wincing at her terrible sketch.

Ignoring them, Pia forged ahead, “Let’s do it the day after selection. No matter what happens in the future, we will always have a connection.”

“It doesn’t give us much time to practice it,” Fewl said with a bit of worry. “In unison sigil work can be dangerous.”

She waved this away.

“We work well together. I’ll do the talisman work, Conch will draw it, you’ll help us sync our yi gathering. It’ll be fine.”

“Selection is in two days,” Conch said. In his mind, he was already visualizing how he would draw the design. How could he best capture the heart of what Pia had envisioned?

“Let’s start now,” Pia said.

They scooted close together and began to plan.