Master Yuren's voice rang across the clearing like a gong.
"Listen well! The path ahead leads through bamboo forest, over broken stone, and up the Ironspine Ascent. Reach the summit before midday, and you may be accepted as full disciples of the Celestbound Covenant. Those who fall short—but show promise—may be recorded as outer initiates."
Kael didn't know what an outer initiate was. He only understood the message: climb, endure, survive.
He glanced up the slope.
It looked… manageable. A gentle incline, tall bamboo swaying in the breeze, patches of moss and stone scattered along the path. How hard could it be?
Around him, tension thickened. Some boys cracked their knuckles. Darian Vale stood poised at the front, smirking as if the whole thing were a game.
"The time is now," Yuren called. "Begin!"
They surged forward.
Kael barely avoided being trampled. He darted into the trees, weaving between stalks of bamboo as the group quickly scattered. The forest swallowed them whole.
Behind him came a quiet presence—a tall, stone-faced disciple. He said nothing, just followed. Kael didn't dare speak. He kept his head down and climbed, gripping stalks for balance as the path grew steeper.
At first, it was almost peaceful. Soft soil, filtered light. But within half an hour, Kael's legs were burning. The ground grew slick. Every step dragged.
He stumbled to a halt, panting, and leaned against a gnarled root. When he looked back, the silent disciple was still there—clean, calm, expressionless.
Kael turned and pushed on.
The bamboo thinned. Stone took over.
Loose shale crunched beneath his feet. The path ended. Now came the climb.
When he finally emerged from the trees, he saw it: the Ironspine Ascent.
A towering wall of jagged stone. Children clung to it like ants, scrambling upward. The final trial had begun.
Kael didn't hesitate.
He lunged at the cliff.
The rock tore at his fingers, scraped his knees. He climbed on hands and feet, gasping. Blood streaked his arms before he reached a third of the way up. Above, he heard Darian laughing, already near the top, hauling himself toward a set of dangling ropes.
Kael didn't care.
He wasn't climbing for silver. Not for his parents. Not even for the Covenant.
He was climbing for himself.
His father's words echoed in his mind:
"Be obedient. Never pick a fight you can't win."
But this wasn't a fight against anyone else.
This was a fight against the stone, against his pain, against himself.
He slipped.
His fingers lost their grip. His body wrenched away from the wall.
Then—impact. His shoulder slammed against the cliff. He froze.
Don't fall. Don't fall.
He clung to the rock, chest heaving. Below, the silent disciple stood ready, arms half-raised.
Kael found a new hold. Pulled himself up.
One breath. One reach. One step.
The ropes came into view. His limbs trembled as he climbed higher.
By the time he grabbed one, the sun was almost overhead. Darian was already waving smugly at the top.
Kael clutched the rope. Every knot felt heavier than the last.
Halfway up, he stalled. His muscles screamed. His vision blurred.
He could let go. No one would blame him.
But then he saw Darian at the summit, flashing a rude gesture.
Kael's jaw tightened.
No. Not here.
One knot. Then another. One breath. Then another.
He wouldn't reach the top before noon. He knew that.
But he would climb until he couldn't.
Not for silver. Not for pride.
For the fire in his chest that refused to die.
For the boy who once watched others leave while he stayed behind.