Walker Estate, Garden Balcony
For the first time in what felt like forever, Alex wasn't waking up to the taste of blood in his mouth or the sting of bruised ribs.
The morning sun filtered through the silver-laced curtains of the Walker estate, casting a soft glow on the polished floors. Birds chirped lazily in the nearby trees, and the scent of blooming moon-roses floated on the breeze.
Alex sat slouched on a cushion at the garden balcony, cradling a warm cup of herbal broth. His arms and legs still throbbed with the aftershocks of yesterday's sparring match, and his back was littered with dull aches — but there was no pain in his eyes. Just quiet reflection.
Twelve months of relentless, soul-grinding, mana-deprived combat training under Elder Vonn had forged something in him. Something sharper, leaner… harder.
He rolled his shoulder. It popped. "Still sore," he muttered, more to himself than anyone.
"You look like someone dug you out of the grave and forgot to finish the burial," came a familiar voice, soft but laced with dry humor.
Amelia stood in the doorway, her long hair catching the light. A pale green robe hugged her frame, and her deep ocean blue eyes sparkled with warmth. She walked over with quiet steps, sat beside him, and placed a hand gently on his.
"You've grown, Lex," she whispered, calling him by the name only she used when they were alone. "Taller, leaner… angrier?"
He gave a tired smirk. "Angrier? No. Just broken in the right places."
Amelia's eyes narrowed with motherly concern, but she didn't pry. She knew her son — better than most. And though he'd never told her exactly what happened in those sessions with Elder Vonn, she could see the changes. In the way he moved, the way he stood. Like a blade constantly held just before the strike.
"You haven't cultivated at all in a year," she said gently. "Do you… resent that?"
Alex tilted his head. "I hated it. Every moment. No mana, no talent. Just fists, bruises, and screaming bones. I hated how weak I was without all that."
He paused.
"But I needed it."
She exhaled softly, then gave a sheepish smile and looked away. "Your father and I… we should've visited. I'm sorry, Lex. We thought it best if you focused. Avalon thought Vonn could bring out something raw in you. And I… agreed."
He didn't answer immediately.
Eventually, he just nodded.
They sat in silence for a while. Alex sipped his broth while Amelia leaned against his side despite his small frame, her presence comforting, grounding.
They sat together in quiet companionship, the wind teasing the curtains and the garden alive with soft morning light.
Then came the familiar sound of boots against stone.
"I wonder," came a deep, even voice from the hallway, "if there's space for one more on this balcony?"
Alex turned his head. There stood Avalon Walker — tall, statuesque, silver-white eyes glinting beneath dark hair that looked just a touch more weathered than Alex remembered. Dressed in a tailored black coat embroidered with silver thread, the patriarch of the Walker house looked less like a father and more like a myth returning home.
Amelia smiled faintly. "You're late."
Avalon chuckled as he stepped forward. "Blame Vonn. He likes to report every swing our son throws as if the fate of the world depends on it."
Alex arched an eyebrow. "Doesn't it?"
That earned a rare smirk from Avalon. He walked over and, without ceremony, sat cross-legged beside them. For a long moment, none of them spoke. The three of them—father, mother, son—simply sat together, breathing the same morning air for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.
Avalon eventually broke the silence. "We made a choice… not to see you."
Alex didn't respond, so Avalon continued.
"We saw what the training would do to you, Lex. And we agreed—Amelia and I—that if we stepped in, even once, it would've softened the edge being forged in you. You don't have to forgive us for that. But I want you to understand why."
Alex stared ahead, the silence thick between them. Eventually, he spoke, his voice low.
"I thought about quitting. So many times. I thought, maybe, I wasn't built for this."
He glanced between them, eyes hard.
"But I never did."
Amelia's hand gripped his tighter. Avalon's expression didn't shift, but his eyes betrayed something—pride, or maybe guilt.
"You've changed," Avalon said.
Alex leaned back against the stone wall. "I didn't want to. But pain… is a convincing teacher."
Avalon nodded slowly. "Vonn said as much. Said you're a monster in the making. Raw, but terrifying."
"He also said I fight like a toddler with a sword taped to his hand."
Avalon chuckled. "That too."
They all laughed—quiet, knowing, shared.
Then Avalon looked at him more directly. "The basics are done. Starting tomorrow, your restrictions are lifted. You may cultivate again. Mana. Talent. All of it."
He reached into his coat and retrieved a small, obsidian-bound booklet with glowing silver lines that danced across its cover like flowing runes. Avalon handed it to Alex with both hands — a rare gesture of solemnity.
"This is the Eclipsing Horizon Codex — the Walker family's core cultivation technique. It was passed to me when I was ready. Now, it's yours."
Amelia turned to Alex, watching his reaction closely.
He took the codex, its cover warm in his hands, the silver runes pulsing faintly as if resonating with his very bloodline. A slow breath escaped his lips… and he closed his eyes.
A storm will surely was come.
And he could finally let it loose.