Chapter 66:
Chapter 66: Beneath the Quiet Storm
The Sovereign Ascendant
It had been seven days since Faulmont’s bells fell quiet.
Seven days since they buried one of Avalon's sharpest minds.
Seven days since Darein Faulmont looked grief in the eye and decided to become something more terrifying than sorrow.
And yet... here in Wolfengarde, the city moved on.
Bakers opened at dawn. Nobles whispered about titles and marriages. Servants polished gold they’d never own. The palace guards shared wine behind courtyards, laughing under their breath.
But I did not move on.
I walked.
Not endlessly. Not without aim. But deliberately—through the marble gardens, along the lower training yards, and through the narrow stone path that curved toward the old woods behind the estate. Silence followed me like a ghost learning to speak.
Even the estate servants gave me distance. Whispers followed like shadows caught behind words:
> “He’s quieter like always”
> “Lord Zephyrin says he trains before the sun rises…”
> “Did you see his eyes? Something’s changed.”
Yes. Something had.
But they mistook silence for sorrow.
It was preparation.
I walked slower today. The ground was damp from morning mist. The old path ahead curled around an oak and descended to the tree line like a crack running through order.
A flicker stopped me.
Someone crouched by the roots of a large pine, coat muddied, hood up. Alone. Unfamiliar.
Not a servant.
Not a guard.
Not allowed to be this close to the border of the Wolfhart estate.
I moved without sound.
As if the wind itself held its breath just to avoid being noticed.
She didn’t sense me. Not until I pressed my arm against the bark just beside her throat—close enough her lungs stopped working instantly.
She froze. Her eyes snapped wide in surprise.
> “Wh–what?”
Her voice was shaky, but not panicked yet.
> “I asked you,” I said, tone icy as dusk, “what are you doing this close to the estate?”
She blinked quickly, lips parted in confusion. Her pulse was a frantic drumbeat.
> “I—I dropped my things! That’s all!" She motioned toward the bundle beside her. "I'm not trying to cause... whatever this is.”
I stared at her. No emotion. Just the stillness of decision.
She kept speaking, words tumbling. “Really, I’m just… new here. Exploring. I got turned around—I didn’t mean to trespass or anything. Swear it.”
I caught the smallest tell — the way her hand drifted a bit too slowly to her side despite her words. Not enough to draw... but enough to keep control.
Reflex, not threat. Which was more interesting.
> “You’re lucky I didn’t take you as a threat,” I said coolly.
Her eyes widened, more at the calmness than anything else.
> *Who is this boy?* That’s what her face asked.
> No fear. No anger. Just silence. Cold and calculative.
Suddenly, her foot slipped on the wet ground. She stumbled backward — not far, just enough to fall on the slope behind.
Before she could, I caught her wrist.
Not kind, not gentle — just firm. Contained.
I could feel her heartbeat under my glove, rapid like a caged bird.
She looked up into my face — still expressionless, still unreadable.
> “I’m not what you expect,” I said.
Then I let her go.
She recoiled, muttered something, nodded furiously. “Right. Got it. I’ll stay away.”
And then she vanished, rain beginning to trace threads through her cloak as it faded down the path.
I exhaled.
> She didn't belong there. But she recognized danger.
> More importantly… she recognized restraint.
I turned and walked into the trees as the rain whispered.
---------
Later that day, the rain drifted into sunlight. The large drawing room in the eastern wing basked in warm light from tall lattice windows, golden thread stitched into green drapes swaying softly in the breeze.
My mother, Selene, waited there. Regal as ever. Wrapped in elegant blue robes, she stood near the center hearth, poised as a queen might appear in a painting — except the smile she wore was soft. Familiar.
The double doors opened.
I recognized her instantly.
The “intruder.”
Now clean, she wore neatly pressed slate-gray robes with silver trim — academy-cut. Her hair, tied up earlier in a messy bun, now flowed down in a simple braid. Still sharp-eyed. Still cautious.
She was pretending not to remember. But the small flick at the edge of her lips betrayed her.
Selene turned toward me.
> “Aren,” she said, her tone velvety, “this is Nerissa Ashford. She’s your tutor for mana.”
Nerissa smiled.
Brilliantly. Teasingly.
> “We’ve met,” she said brightly.
> “Though the introduction was… intense.”
Selene raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
> “He nearly suplexed me into a tree,” Nerissa added with mock casualty. “Very thorough greeting protocol.”
I didn’t smile. But my stare relaxed.
> “You were acting suspiciously,” I said.
She gave a mock bow. “Well then. Suspicious tutor at your service.”
Selene chuckled softly. “She’s reached Stage 4 not long ago, but her mastery and efficiency are uncommon. You’ll benefit from her layering techniques and mana pressure balance.”
I nodded. “Understood.”
The doors opened again.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped in. Dark traveler’s tunic, minimal armor. The kind of man who didn’t need ornament to command a room.
> “Corvin Draxler,” Selene introduced.
> “Your tutor in weapon mastery. Aura-based combat as well.”
Corvin inclined his head. “I’ve heard of you. And what you did when Eclipse Order attached during elemental affinity ritual. Results matter. But clean technique... matters more.”
I nodded. “Then teach me.”
He smiled faintly. “I’ll do more than that.”
My eyes shifted from him to Nerissa and then back to my mother. A pair of opposites. Pressure through refinement. Momentum through precision.
Selene’s expression softened slightly as she met my eyes.
> “You’ll walk your path, Aren. But you won’t walk it alone.”
-------------
In the courtyard garden behind the estates, the sun filtered like melting gold through tall rose arches. I leaned back against the cherrywood tree with eyes half closed, arms folded behind my head.
A bluebird chirped once. Then twice.
Helium stepped around the vine wall and found me — casual, still as stone, posture relaxed and unreadable.
> “So…” she said, folding her arms, “this is what your training looks like now?”
I didn’t open my eyes.
> “Mental preparation,” I answered lightly. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Helium smirked. “Right. Sitting still like a rock is an art of war.”
I cracked one eye. “Don’t underestimate the stone.”
A moment passed. The breeze moved the green between us.
Then she chuckled quietly. “Argon tripped in the northern hall this morning. Swears the floor was cursed.”
> “No,” I said flatly. “Just slippery ego.”
Another smile exchanged — short, subtle. The kind that sits unspoken between warriors who bled on the same path.
The lightness thinned ever so slightly.
Her gaze tilted, just a little sharper.
> “By the way…” she said quietly, “word from the eastern towns. Some guards fell unconscious last week. No visible cause. Eyes open, breath steady. But not waking.”
I went still. Proper still.
> “Same region around the old citadel borders?”
She nodded. “Too far out to confirm yet. But it’s not spreading. Just whispers. Could be superstition—”
> “Or warning.”
> “Exactly.”
I pushed off the tree slowly.
> “Keep listening,” I said softly.
> “Always,” she replied.
And the quiet returned, this time not unwelcome.
-------------
Beneath the Moonlit Archways
That night, I found my seven in the silent gardens—moonlight resting like frost on the black stone. We stood together, cloaks brushing the ground, shadows knitting us into something unseen by the world above.
Helium, ever serious, watched me. Neon pretended to juggle a pebble with a flicker of magic. Argon fidgeted, impatient; Krypton and Oganesson blended into the darkness; Xenon’s eyes glinted with curiosity. Radon looked like she’d challenge werewolves to an arm-wrestling match if the night grew boring.
I waited until everyone stilled. Then I spoke—
“The world believes strength is shown by standing tallest in the light,” I began, pacing the circle slowly.
“It’s a beautiful lie.”
Helium nodded. Neon grinned, sensing something unusual.
“Remember: steel sharpened in darkness never rusts. A mind schooled in silence is sharper than any sword. Our power isn’t in what we announce—it’s in what we withhold, in the space between words that others never sense.”
Argon tilted her head, listening deeply.I paused beside Radon. “Some believe monsters wait beneath their beds. But true strength is becoming the shadow that monsters fear.”
Radon’s mouth curled in approval.
Neon piped in, “So… does that mean we’re the punchline to everyone else’s horror stories?”
I smiled faintly. “In every story, the strongest leave the fewest clues. Do not seek applause; seek mastery so profound that others cannot comprehend you, even when you’re standing beside them.”
Oganesson, always silent, finally murmured, “But what if no one knows us?”
“That is how legends begin,” I replied. “Fame fades. Impact remains. Let the world chase light while we craft reality in the dark.”
Xenon steepled her fingers. “Mysterious wisdom, Boss. Will you ever explain the full truth?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But most wisdom is learned by experience. Just as a shadow stretches as the sun sets, your true selves will only grow as you walk further from what’s familiar.”
Krypton nodded. Helium closed her eyes, letting the words settle.
We stood in silence—laughter ready, lessons lingering, the kind of moment where wisdom shapes without weight.Finally, as all seven bowed in unison, we spoke together:
“We are Shadow Periodics,
Forged from darkness,
Hunting where shadows dares.”
And beneath the moon’s gentle watch, it was enough.
--------------
As I returned to my chamber that night, candlelight trembling against engraved windows, I sat before the blade and slowly traced mana through my arm—testing circuits, reinforcing flow.
The world above played politics. Dared to believe control was law.
But beneath the quiet storm…
Something deeper moved.
> And I would be its whisper and its wrath.
To be continued…
[ Name: Narissa Ashford
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Field of Expertise: Mana
Mana Stage: 4th
Fundamental Elements: Wind, Lightning
Weapon: Mage’s Staff with embedded mana crystal
Appearance:
Height: 171 cm (5’7")
Build: Lean and agile
Hair: Silvery-white, long and straight, often loosely tied back or braided for practicality
Eyes: Silver, lively and bright
Personality:
Cheerful, energetic, and slightly childish
Likes teasing
Friendly but can be stubborn when her skill is questioned
Has a habit of turning lessons into cheerful
Background:
Born into a mid-tier noble family in the Avalon Empire
Prodigy in mana control, advanced rapidly to Stage 4 before adulthood]
Seven days since they buried one of Avalon's sharpest minds.
Seven days since Darein Faulmont looked grief in the eye and decided to become something more terrifying than sorrow.
And yet... here in Wolfengarde, the city moved on.
Bakers opened at dawn. Nobles whispered about titles and marriages. Servants polished gold they’d never own. The palace guards shared wine behind courtyards, laughing under their breath.
But I did not move on.
I walked.
Not endlessly. Not without aim. But deliberately—through the marble gardens, along the lower training yards, and through the narrow stone path that curved toward the old woods behind the estate. Silence followed me like a ghost learning to speak.
Even the estate servants gave me distance. Whispers followed like shadows caught behind words:
> “He’s quieter like always”
> “Lord Zephyrin says he trains before the sun rises…”
> “Did you see his eyes? Something’s changed.”
Yes. Something had.
But they mistook silence for sorrow.
It was preparation.
I walked slower today. The ground was damp from morning mist. The old path ahead curled around an oak and descended to the tree line like a crack running through order.
A flicker stopped me.
Someone crouched by the roots of a large pine, coat muddied, hood up. Alone. Unfamiliar.
Not a servant.
Not a guard.
Not allowed to be this close to the border of the Wolfhart estate.
I moved without sound.
As if the wind itself held its breath just to avoid being noticed.
She didn’t sense me. Not until I pressed my arm against the bark just beside her throat—close enough her lungs stopped working instantly.
She froze. Her eyes snapped wide in surprise.
> “Wh–what?”
Her voice was shaky, but not panicked yet.
> “I asked you,” I said, tone icy as dusk, “what are you doing this close to the estate?”
She blinked quickly, lips parted in confusion. Her pulse was a frantic drumbeat.
> “I—I dropped my things! That’s all!" She motioned toward the bundle beside her. "I'm not trying to cause... whatever this is.”
I stared at her. No emotion. Just the stillness of decision.
She kept speaking, words tumbling. “Really, I’m just… new here. Exploring. I got turned around—I didn’t mean to trespass or anything. Swear it.”
I caught the smallest tell — the way her hand drifted a bit too slowly to her side despite her words. Not enough to draw... but enough to keep control.
Reflex, not threat. Which was more interesting.
> “You’re lucky I didn’t take you as a threat,” I said coolly.
Her eyes widened, more at the calmness than anything else.
> *Who is this boy?* That’s what her face asked.
> No fear. No anger. Just silence. Cold and calculative.
Suddenly, her foot slipped on the wet ground. She stumbled backward — not far, just enough to fall on the slope behind.
Before she could, I caught her wrist.
Not kind, not gentle — just firm. Contained.
I could feel her heartbeat under my glove, rapid like a caged bird.
She looked up into my face — still expressionless, still unreadable.
> “I’m not what you expect,” I said.
Then I let her go.
She recoiled, muttered something, nodded furiously. “Right. Got it. I’ll stay away.”
And then she vanished, rain beginning to trace threads through her cloak as it faded down the path.
I exhaled.
> She didn't belong there. But she recognized danger.
> More importantly… she recognized restraint.
I turned and walked into the trees as the rain whispered.
---------
Later that day, the rain drifted into sunlight. The large drawing room in the eastern wing basked in warm light from tall lattice windows, golden thread stitched into green drapes swaying softly in the breeze.
My mother, Selene, waited there. Regal as ever. Wrapped in elegant blue robes, she stood near the center hearth, poised as a queen might appear in a painting — except the smile she wore was soft. Familiar.
The double doors opened.
I recognized her instantly.
The “intruder.”
Now clean, she wore neatly pressed slate-gray robes with silver trim — academy-cut. Her hair, tied up earlier in a messy bun, now flowed down in a simple braid. Still sharp-eyed. Still cautious.
She was pretending not to remember. But the small flick at the edge of her lips betrayed her.
Selene turned toward me.
> “Aren,” she said, her tone velvety, “this is Nerissa Ashford. She’s your tutor for mana.”
Nerissa smiled.
Brilliantly. Teasingly.
> “We’ve met,” she said brightly.
> “Though the introduction was… intense.”
Selene raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
> “He nearly suplexed me into a tree,” Nerissa added with mock casualty. “Very thorough greeting protocol.”
I didn’t smile. But my stare relaxed.
> “You were acting suspiciously,” I said.
She gave a mock bow. “Well then. Suspicious tutor at your service.”
Selene chuckled softly. “She’s reached Stage 4 not long ago, but her mastery and efficiency are uncommon. You’ll benefit from her layering techniques and mana pressure balance.”
I nodded. “Understood.”
The doors opened again.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped in. Dark traveler’s tunic, minimal armor. The kind of man who didn’t need ornament to command a room.
> “Corvin Draxler,” Selene introduced.
> “Your tutor in weapon mastery. Aura-based combat as well.”
Corvin inclined his head. “I’ve heard of you. And what you did when Eclipse Order attached during elemental affinity ritual. Results matter. But clean technique... matters more.”
I nodded. “Then teach me.”
He smiled faintly. “I’ll do more than that.”
My eyes shifted from him to Nerissa and then back to my mother. A pair of opposites. Pressure through refinement. Momentum through precision.
Selene’s expression softened slightly as she met my eyes.
> “You’ll walk your path, Aren. But you won’t walk it alone.”
-------------
In the courtyard garden behind the estates, the sun filtered like melting gold through tall rose arches. I leaned back against the cherrywood tree with eyes half closed, arms folded behind my head.
A bluebird chirped once. Then twice.
Helium stepped around the vine wall and found me — casual, still as stone, posture relaxed and unreadable.
> “So…” she said, folding her arms, “this is what your training looks like now?”
I didn’t open my eyes.
> “Mental preparation,” I answered lightly. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Helium smirked. “Right. Sitting still like a rock is an art of war.”
I cracked one eye. “Don’t underestimate the stone.”
A moment passed. The breeze moved the green between us.
Then she chuckled quietly. “Argon tripped in the northern hall this morning. Swears the floor was cursed.”
> “No,” I said flatly. “Just slippery ego.”
Another smile exchanged — short, subtle. The kind that sits unspoken between warriors who bled on the same path.
The lightness thinned ever so slightly.
Her gaze tilted, just a little sharper.
> “By the way…” she said quietly, “word from the eastern towns. Some guards fell unconscious last week. No visible cause. Eyes open, breath steady. But not waking.”
I went still. Proper still.
> “Same region around the old citadel borders?”
She nodded. “Too far out to confirm yet. But it’s not spreading. Just whispers. Could be superstition—”
> “Or warning.”
> “Exactly.”
I pushed off the tree slowly.
> “Keep listening,” I said softly.
> “Always,” she replied.
And the quiet returned, this time not unwelcome.
-------------
Beneath the Moonlit Archways
That night, I found my seven in the silent gardens—moonlight resting like frost on the black stone. We stood together, cloaks brushing the ground, shadows knitting us into something unseen by the world above.
Helium, ever serious, watched me. Neon pretended to juggle a pebble with a flicker of magic. Argon fidgeted, impatient; Krypton and Oganesson blended into the darkness; Xenon’s eyes glinted with curiosity. Radon looked like she’d challenge werewolves to an arm-wrestling match if the night grew boring.
I waited until everyone stilled. Then I spoke—
“The world believes strength is shown by standing tallest in the light,” I began, pacing the circle slowly.
“It’s a beautiful lie.”
Helium nodded. Neon grinned, sensing something unusual.
“Remember: steel sharpened in darkness never rusts. A mind schooled in silence is sharper than any sword. Our power isn’t in what we announce—it’s in what we withhold, in the space between words that others never sense.”
Argon tilted her head, listening deeply.I paused beside Radon. “Some believe monsters wait beneath their beds. But true strength is becoming the shadow that monsters fear.”
Radon’s mouth curled in approval.
Neon piped in, “So… does that mean we’re the punchline to everyone else’s horror stories?”
I smiled faintly. “In every story, the strongest leave the fewest clues. Do not seek applause; seek mastery so profound that others cannot comprehend you, even when you’re standing beside them.”
Oganesson, always silent, finally murmured, “But what if no one knows us?”
“That is how legends begin,” I replied. “Fame fades. Impact remains. Let the world chase light while we craft reality in the dark.”
Xenon steepled her fingers. “Mysterious wisdom, Boss. Will you ever explain the full truth?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But most wisdom is learned by experience. Just as a shadow stretches as the sun sets, your true selves will only grow as you walk further from what’s familiar.”
Krypton nodded. Helium closed her eyes, letting the words settle.
We stood in silence—laughter ready, lessons lingering, the kind of moment where wisdom shapes without weight.Finally, as all seven bowed in unison, we spoke together:
“We are Shadow Periodics,
Forged from darkness,
Hunting where shadows dares.”
And beneath the moon’s gentle watch, it was enough.
--------------
As I returned to my chamber that night, candlelight trembling against engraved windows, I sat before the blade and slowly traced mana through my arm—testing circuits, reinforcing flow.
The world above played politics. Dared to believe control was law.
But beneath the quiet storm…
Something deeper moved.
> And I would be its whisper and its wrath.
To be continued…
[ Name: Narissa Ashford
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Field of Expertise: Mana
Mana Stage: 4th
Fundamental Elements: Wind, Lightning
Weapon: Mage’s Staff with embedded mana crystal
Appearance:
Height: 171 cm (5’7")
Build: Lean and agile
Hair: Silvery-white, long and straight, often loosely tied back or braided for practicality
Eyes: Silver, lively and bright
Personality:
Cheerful, energetic, and slightly childish
Likes teasing
Friendly but can be stubborn when her skill is questioned
Has a habit of turning lessons into cheerful
Background:
Born into a mid-tier noble family in the Avalon Empire
Prodigy in mana control, advanced rapidly to Stage 4 before adulthood]
Please sign in to leave a comment.