The Precipice of Power

4 - A Saint

Dear Hong Tang Seira, Brave of the Hong Clan,

I know you don't know me, but I hope that this note finds you well. I cannot disclose much in this letter, but I would be delighted if you could meet me to talk more. I will be waiting for you tomorrow at dusk, at the silver tree in the middle of the forest.

Best,

Aeripha, Saint of Wind and Storms.

Seira put the note back in her pocket, feeling the slight pressure that still emanated from it. She already had it memorized by now, but every few minutes she took it back out, rereading it just to make sure that it was real. Yesterday, it had blown to her in the wind, and despite being just a slip of paper, it emanated a pressure that far surpassed even the strongest mystics she knew.

She couldn't wait to meet its owner.

Getting assigned a task from the heavens was something straight out of myths and legends, and Seira eagerly awaited the challenge.

She jogged out of the Suns' district and into the center of the clan, guiding mana through her body in the sharp curves described by the Hong Clan's channeling technique. A slight burning built in her muscles, but she welcomed the discomfort. The Elders said that that was just because she was using a lot more mana than everyone else, as expected of a Brave.

A distant tower glimmered with bright flames, and she grinned. That meant a trial was going on.

In the Hong Clan, it was custom for clansmen to have their mana awakened at birth. As soon as a newborn got their mark, an Elder would use a special technique to channel fire into them, ensuring that all members of the clan safely achieved the First Level of Purification, the bare minimum needed to practice the mystic arts.

She had tried to ask the Elders about the technique countless times, but no matter how much she begged, this was the one thing they wouldn't budge on. But that was fine, because Kiro had found his own way forwards!

She opened her mana sense, feeling the various sources of fire around her. It permeated everything, gathering in the air, the ground, and even in her. As she got to the tower, though, her eyes widened. From the immense amount of fire mana being channeled, she was pretty sure that baby would grow up to be a top Warrior.

Not a Brave, though. She hardly remembered her own trial, but her mother always told her how her flames had glowed so hot that the entire clan could see. That was usually accompanied by a lecture on how she needed to train harder, or demands as to why she had made the slightest error in her techniques...

Ugh. She shook her head, rubbing a bruise on her neck. Why was she thinking about that now? She should be focusing on how cool it would be to meet a Saint.

Before she knew it, she was at the meeting point. Just like the note had said, a majestic tree with bright silver leaves sprouted out in the distance, dwarfing its neighbors in both height and girth. The brush thinned out as she approached, but as she stepped fully into the clearing, nobody was there.

A faint thump sounded behind her, making her jump. What was that? Was this the Saint? She conjured a brief flash of fire, illuminating her surroundings.

Just a fallen branch. She shook herself — she couldn't be getting spooked by every little thing. But if that wasn't the Saint, then where was she?

She took a deep breath. "Aeripha?"

No response.

Well, that was fine. It made sense that Saints were busy. She waited on a toppled log, occasionally illuminating the forest with more fire.