The Shiko screamed as it tore through Rian's body.

  One moment he stood in the training yard with thirty other students, the next he was on fire from the inside out. Raw power surged through his veins, ignoring every technique, every rule, every limitation the Academy had drilled into him for six long years.

  "Control it!" Master Venn shouted, but his voice seemed distant, underwater.

  Control was impossible. The Shiko wasn't a tool to be mastered—it was alive, awakening, and it had chosen him for reasons he couldn't begin to understand.

  Rian's vision blurred as the energy poured from his outstretched hands, not in the controlled manifestation taught by the Moss Way, but as pure, undiluted power. The training yard erupted in chaos. Students scrambled backward, their faces twisted in fear. Barriers shattered. Weapons flew from hands.

  And at the center of the maelstrom, something impossible took shape—a figure of light, watching him with eyeless scrutiny.

  At last, it said, its voice resonating directly in his mind. We have found you.

  Then the world exploded in white.

  Three hours earlier, the morning mist had shrouded the Askia's Academy training grounds in pearly gray. Rian stood at the edge of the practice yard, watching his fellow students prepare for combat training. The other disciples moved with practiced ease, each wearing the simple tunic and color-coded sash that marked them as Gabibi of the Moss Way.

  Master Venn stalked the perimeter, his trailing headwrap marking him as a Mentor. "Form your lines!" he commanded sharply, his voice cutting through the morning air. "Today's exercise will test your Shiko Channeling under pressure."

  Students scrambled to position, gripping their wooden staffs and training blades. Even worn from years of practice, the weapons were meticulously carved with symbols that helped focus and amplify Shiko.

  Rian looked down at his own empty hands. Unlike his classmates in their final year of the Peak Stage, he still struggled with the most basic channeling techniques.

  "Rian!" Master Venn's voice sliced through his thoughts. "Where is your channeling tool?"

  "Broken, Master," Rian answered, the half-truth burning his tongue. His third staff this month had shattered yesterday—not from misuse, but from the strange way Shiko responded to him.

  Master Venn's expression hardened. "Then use a training blade today."

  "Yes, Master." Rian moved toward the weapons rack, feeling the stares of his classmates. At eighteen, he should have been preparing for his Trial Crossing, ready to join the ranks of Guardians. Instead, he remained trapped in basics that twelve-year-olds mastered easily.

  Joran, the academy's star pupil, twirled his staff with casual mastery. Shiko gathered around it like morning dew, not fixed in appearance but a shifting, pearlescent energy that responded to his will. Unlike the rigid divisions taught by the Masters, Shiko in its natural state had no fixed appearance. It only took on specific qualities when shaped by intention and technique.

  "Some people just don't have the gift," Joran remarked loudly as Rian passed. "Maybe you should join the Empty Halls with the other failures."

  Several students laughed. The Empty Halls—the training space where those deemed without potential were sent. The school for lost causes.

  "Enough!" Master Venn's voice cracked through the air. "Take positions for the barrier drill. Attackers on the left, defenders on the right."

  Rian gripped a spare training sword, its surface worn smooth from countless hands. The symbols carved into its hilt felt cold against his palm. He joined the defenders' line, positioning himself at the far end where he'd cause the least disruption when—not if—he failed.

  Kara caught his eye from the attackers' line. Once his closest friend, now she kept her distance like everyone else.

  "Focus," she mouthed silently. "Remember the technique."

  Rian nodded and tried to center himself. The sword felt wrong in his hand, its energies misaligned with whatever lived inside him. But it was better than nothing.

  "First formation!" Master Venn called out. "Defenders, channel your Shiko through your tools to create a unified barrier. Attackers, prepare to test their strength."

  The defenders raised their weapons in unison. Shiko flowed from the academy grounds—always rich with ambient energy—into their tools. Their channeling transformed the raw power into visible manifestations: shields of light, distortions in the air, thin barriers that would stop physical attacks.

  Rian closed his eyes and tried to follow the method taught since his first day at the Academy: draw breath, focus mind, open the channels within, direct the flow through the tool, shape with intention.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried again, reaching deeper. The other students had already formed a solid defensive line, their barriers connecting seamlessly. Master Venn walked behind them, inspecting their work.

  "Good, Talia. Strong foundation." "More focus, Meru. Your barrier is thin at the edges." "Excellent work, Joran. Perfect clarity of purpose."

  Then he stopped behind Rian.

  "I see nothing, Gabibi Rian," he said, disappointment heavy in his voice. "Not even an attempt."

  "I am trying, Master," Rian said through gritted teeth. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool morning air. "It won't respond to the channeling path."

  Master Venn sighed. "Then try harder. The Trial Crossing approaches, and at this rate, you won't even qualify to attempt it."

  The reminder stung more than any physical blow. Without passing the Trial, Rian would never advance beyond Gabibi—never become a Guardian, never mind achieving his dream of becoming a Diviner who understood the deeper mysteries of Shiko.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Master Venn moved away, raising his voice to address the entire class. "Attackers, advance! Test the strength of their barriers. Defenders, hold firm!"

  The attackers surged forward, their training weapons glowing with controlled Shiko. As they struck the defensive line, flashes of light and bursts of energy marked the impact points. Most barriers held. A few wavered but stabilized.

  Rian stood exposed, his section of the line completely open. Three attackers approached him, including Kara. Protocol demanded they strike his barrier to test its strength, but he had created nothing to test.

  "Channel it now, Rian," Kara urged quietly, her eyes darting to Master Venn, who watched from a distance. "Or at least try to block physically."

  Joran stepped forward, his practice staff gleaming. "Rules say we test the barrier," he said with a smirk. "Not my fault if there's nothing to test."

  He swung at Rian, not holding back. Without a barrier, the blow would connect with full force. Instinctively, Rian raised his free hand—not the sword—to block.

  And something answered.

  Shiko surged up through his body, bypassing the training sword entirely. It flowed directly from his palm—raw, unfiltered, untamed. Not channeled through a tool as the Three Ways taught, but emerging straight from his flesh.

  A shield-like distortion appeared before his raised hand, catching Joran's strike. The impact sent ripples through the air, visible waves of pure Shiko spreading outward.

  Everyone froze. Even Master Venn stared in shock.

  "That's impossible," someone whispered. "No one channels raw Shiko."

  Joran recovered first, anger flashing in his eyes. He struck again, harder this time, aiming to break through whatever Rian had created.

  The Shiko responded to the threat, intensifying. No longer just a shield, it pushed back against Joran's weapon. Strands of energy wrapped around the staff, crawling up toward Joran's hands.

  "Drop your weapon!" Master Venn shouted, suddenly alert to the danger. "Rian, release the Shiko now!"

  But Rian couldn't release it. The energy had a mind of its own—curious, testing, reaching. It pulled at Joran's staff, not aggressively, but like a child examining a new toy.

  Joran tried to pull away, but the Shiko held firm. Fear replaced his earlier smugness. "Get it off me!" he demanded.

  Rian reached for the chaotic energy with his mind, trying to impose the control techniques he'd been taught. The Shiko ignored him, continuing its exploration. It wasn't hostile—just curious—but its alien attention terrified everyone watching.

  Then Rian felt it—a presence within the Shiko itself. A consciousness. An awareness.

  Why do you fight alongside those who fear you?

  The voice wasn't audible; it resonated directly in his mind, ancient and curious. Rian's concentration shattered. The shield-like distortion warped, expanding outward.

  "Everyone back!" Master Venn shouted, drawing his own channeling rod—a Mentor's weapon, far more powerful than student tools. "Clear the yard!"

  Students scattered, leaving only Joran still connected to Rian's wild manifestation, unable to break free.

  The Shiko pulsed once, twice. Then the strands of energy coiled together, forming a shape that made Master Venn's face drain of color—a humanoid figure crafted of pure energy, featureless but clearly watching.

  "Ancestor preserve us," the Mentor whispered. "A Sentinel."

  The figure studied Rian with eyeless scrutiny. It tilted its head, a gesture so human it sent chills down everyone's spine.

  You are not like them. Why do you pretend?

  Before Rian could even think of a response, Master Venn struck. His channeling rod flashed with controlled Shiko, aiming not at the figure but at the connection between it and Rian.

  Pain exploded behind Rian's eyes. The figure convulsed once, its form destabilizing. For a moment, it looked directly at Master Venn, and Rian felt its... displeasure.

  Then it collapsed inward with a sound like thunder, releasing a shockwave that knocked everyone off their feet. The blast scorched the training yard stones, leaving a perfect circle of blackened rock.

  Silence fell, broken only by the groans of students picking themselves up from the ground. Joran lay sprawled several yards away, his training staff shattered into splinters, but otherwise unharmed.

  Rian remained standing at the circle's center, somehow untouched by the explosion. His hands still tingled with residual energy. The Shiko hadn't withdrawn fully—he could feel it lingering just beneath his skin, watching through his eyes.

  "He could have killed us all!" Joran's voice broke the stunned quiet as he staggered to his feet. "That wasn't normal channeling!"

  Master Venn approached cautiously, his channeling rod still at the ready. His eyes never left Rian's face as others joined in with frightened accusations.

  "Did you see that thing? It looked right at us!" "The Masters warned about wild manifestations!" "Is he some kind of Insurgent?"

  The mention of Insurgents—those who rejected the Academy's structured paths—caused gasps among the students. To be accused of following the Insurgents' Path was as serious as being charged with treason against the Empire itself.

  Master Venn silenced them with a raised hand as he stopped just outside the blackened circle. His weathered face showed something Rian had never seen before: fear, carefully masked behind years of discipline.

  "What did it say to you?" he asked quietly, his voice pitched for Rian's ears alone.

  Rian blinked in surprise. "You... knew it would speak?"

  The Mentor's eyes widened fractionally—a slip in his careful composure. He glanced around to ensure no one else had heard, then fixed Rian with an intense stare.

  "Listen carefully," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "The Circle of Masters monitors all unusual Shiko activity. They'll be here soon. Tell them nothing about any voice or presence you perceived. Nothing. Understand?"

  Before Rian could answer, the air split with a distinctive crack of arrival. Three figures appeared at the yard's edge, their elaborate robes marking them as Sages from the Circle of Masters. The embroidered vines on their collars identified them as members of the Moss Way—the house specializing in body transformation techniques.

  "Everyone stand back," commanded the lead Sage, a severe woman with silver hair pulled into a tight bun. "This area is now under the authority of the Circle."

  Master Venn straightened, composing his features into a respectful mask. "Sage Imara," he acknowledged with a bow. "An unfortunate training accident. The boy lacks proper control, but—"

  "We detected an unauthorized manifestation," Sage Imara interrupted. Her eyes, sharp despite her advanced age, fixed on Rian. "This was no simple training accident."

  The two Sages flanking her moved forward, their hands already weaving complex patterns that Rian recognized as containment techniques—methods for isolating and neutralizing dangerous Shiko phenomena.

  "I didn't mean to—" Rian began.

  "Intentions are irrelevant," Sage Imara cut him off. "What matters is what happened and why." She gestured to her companions. "Take him to the Questioning Chambers. The Circle must hear of this directly."

  Master Venn stepped forward. "Sage Imara, if I may—the boy has shown unusual aptitude despite his lack of formal success. Perhaps the Diviners should examine him before judgment is passed."

  The Sage's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes. "You overstep, Mentor Venn. The Circle will determine what examinations are necessary."

  As the other Sages approached, Rian caught a final glimpse of his classmates. Most looked away, unwilling to meet his eyes. Only Kara watched him directly, her expression a complex mixture of fear, concern, and something else—a question.

  Then the Sages closed around him, and the training yard disappeared in a blur of movement as they activated a transportation technique. When Rian's vision cleared, he stood in a circular stone chamber deep within the heart of the Academy.

  The Questioning Chambers. Where those who violated the Askia's Code faced judgment.