Twelve-year-old Tristan entered the grassy clearing filled with excited boys and girls. Today was the sifting, a day that might as well be a holiday for its importance. It was the day that all children turning thirteen that year would learn about their kern and receive their place in the world.

  “Remember, you’re the only child from the head families here today,” His father who was standing to his right, “That means more will be expected from you than any one else in attendance.”

  He gulped, “Yes, father.”

  “Don’t worry him,” his mother standing on the opposite side said, “Nothing more is expected of him than anyone else,” She turned to Tristan, “Now don’t worry about the results, we’ll be there for you regardless of what happens or what you end up with.”

  Tristan felt his stomach twist in knots but he squared his shoulders, not wanting to be comforted by his parents in front of all his peers. He wondered what his kern would be. The ancient word for heart was apt as what kind a person received would dictate their future.

  Glancing to his left he looked up at his mother, Helen. She was short, he was nearly as tall after his recent growth spurt. Black hair, copper skin, and crimson eyes made her stand out. The traits were not unique to the head family, but that did not make them less striking.

  He wouldn’t mind getting her flame kern. She had naturally grown to the peak of tier two placing her just behind the warrior cast in raw power. Less than one in ten people had a natural tier two kern, so while heritage was on Tristan’s side, his chances of actually getting it were still low.

  His father walked on the opposite side, back rigid and arms clasped behind his back. Tristan had received his name from his father, technically making him a junior. Thankfully his father went by a title given to him by the previous elder of the Forest Caldera after saving Helen from an abduction attempt. Shadow Fist was the name he went by now, a name he bore with pride.

  It was a name that described his dark kern, and the obsession he had with martial arts. He was also a tier two, though he had to be artificially raised to that point. Tristan was not sure he wanted a kern that was only good for sneaking around, but it would not be the end of the world.

  Tristan was satisfied with his prospects. He would either be a wielder of flame and be the envy of all his friends. Conversely, he could also be the hidden blade of the Forest Caldera, which had a certain appeal. The option that caught his fancy was a rare dual kern. He did not know what a mix of darkness and flame would be, but he like every young boy thought anything painted black was automatically more desirable. Black fire, that was simply too cool not to imagine.

  They stepped into the grassy area. It was a neutral zone between the six Calderas, where all the children that year could gather peacefully. The different cities weren’t necessarily enemies, but they were in no way friends. This was simply tradition, and no one was eager to break tradition.

  Their whole civilization was set inside a basin atop a mountain, and all the cities were forced to work together by a common background and a common enemy. The edge of this basin was reinforced by a massive stone wall that kept the surrounding beasts at bay. Tristan hoped that he could see some of these mythical creatures someday, but that was a small chance.

  Still, Tristan had been conditioned to look upon other Calderas with suspicion. It made him wary. Helen squeezed his hand to reassure him. Right, he wanted to be brave, no he was brave. Those butterflies in his stomach were just his imagination.

  Every year the six elders would gather to initiate the new generation. They used an ancient artifact to facilitate this. A chalice left behind by the Grand Ancestor, the leader who founded their civilization. Currently, those elders were arguing about something in front of the stage upon which a podium sat with a cloth draped over it.

  Tristan’s uncle, Elder Forest, was one of the ones squabbling, the man despised the other Elders and would do anything he could to obstruct them. There were many evenings that Tristan heard his uncle calling all the other Elders short-sighted fools while complaining to Tristan’s mother. While he and Elder Forest did not get along, Tristan still felt bad for the burden thrust upon him.

  Quickly getting bored watching old men argue, Tristan looked around for one of his friends. Harp was turning thirteen as well, and they had been friends since childhood. Her family was from the manager caste as well so their parents knew each other, though Tristan’s parents were in city management and Harps oversaw agriculture.

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  Tristan stood on his tiptoes to find her. Despite hitting his growth spurt early Tristan was still shorter than the majority of the adults. It did not help that Harp and her family were also on the shorter side. Being the nephew of the elder of the Forest Caldera, he was near the front while Harp would be somewhere in the middle.

  Shadow Fist tapped Tristan on the shoulder, “Focus, eyes forword.”

  Tristan looked back at the elders, only to find them gone. They had moved around to the right side of the stage and were currently climbing the steps on the side. In order of seniority, they stepped on the stage. The oldest was the Elder River, leader of the River Caldera. He wore blue robes that matched his water kern. Tristan’s uncle, Elder Forest brought up the rear as the youngest, he had red robes that matched the color of flame.

  They lined up behind the podium. When all were in position Elder River stepped forward and removed the cloth. A black goblet made of some sort of obsidian was revealed. Tristan caught his breath, the Grand Ancestor’s artifact was much larger than he had expected. It rested on a raised pedestal, sitting at about hip height and a black fog wafted up from whatever liquid was inside. The lip of the goblet was almost even with Tristan’s chin, making it the biggest cup he had ever seen.

  The elder of the River Caldera clapped his hands to quiet the awed murmurs of the crowd. He had a water kern, which was not the most adept at making loud noises, so he had to clap several times to get all the new teen's attention. The hubbub of the crowd died down by the second clap and was silent by the third.

  “Today was a pivotal day in the Caldera’s history, it represents the founding of our home,” Elder Rivers's voice sounded just as frail as his appearance, “However you should already know this. If you have one of the few parents that don’t go to temple gatherings, this story is for you.”

  Elder River’s judgmental gaze swept over the crowd. Tristan was starting to understand why his uncle disliked the man. That glare made him feel like he had done something wrong, despite having done nothing of the sort.

  After pinning everyone with his glare, Elder River Continued, “In the distant past the people of the Caldera were refugees. You see the world outside this basin is inhospitable and lethal. There was a Demon Lord with silver blood, who fought the gods. Their armies fought desperately and heroes emerged on both sides. Eventually, the righteous won and drove off the Demon Lord. However he left a curse on us so we would always be reminded of him.” He paused, Tristan shifted his weight from foot to foot, antsy for him to continue.

  “He would take some of our children and give them silver blood.”

  River looked around somberly, Tristan could almost believe that he felt something about these ancient events. The story continued, “With the Demon Lord gone, was there a time of peace? No. The men of valor were focused on slaying men, not beasts. In that brief lapse in judgment, mythical beasts appeared. They drove mankind out of their cities, out of their lands, and made us outcasts in our own world!”

  Tristan knew what came next, “A legion of men under the Hero Sai founded the Caldera. His five lords became the patriarchs of what is now the Great Caldera and its five great cities and he became the Grand Ancestor. We now faithfully guard its borders, keeping the beasts out.”

  The elder of the Plain Caldera glared at Elder Grass from the Grass Caldera. The two had originally been one caldera, until a feud got out of control, and gave birth to the sixth caldera. It was a recent enough event for Tristan to remember it occurring, so enmities had not been given time to settle.

  Elder River’s somber tone was replaced with a determined one, “You children are the next generation. Most of you will be workers, some will be managers, and a few powerful individuals here will be warriors, the backbone of our defenders.”

  Excitement built inside Tristan as he imagined being part of the warrior caste. One needed a tier three kern to be considered part of it. There had been several occasions where he had met a warrior and they gave off a different feeling than ordinary people. Elder Forest was tier three, and while that technically made him a warrior, he was not trained in the art of violence. Tristan indulged in a fantasy about being a warrior for a few moments, however unlikely it was. Most children were born with natural potential at or below their parent's tier. Tristan was not particularly worried, the head family was wealthy, and there was a good chance he could buy his way into tier three through artificial means.

  It was possible to use artifacts like the Abyssal Chalice to increase the capacity of his kern by pulling the elemental essence out and packing it into his kern beyond its natural capacity. However, an artifact like the Abyssal Chalice was so strong that it was more likely to simply pop his kern. He would have to purchase weaker ones to start with. It was only an option for the very wealthy or the very lucky. Tristan, as part of the head family, fell into both categories.

  Elder River continued, “Now children, as you know, your kern is your heart. It is where you hold your power and the method by which you fill your blood with the elements. Today we will determine the natural potential and elemental essence of that kern. So, please make an orderly line to the right of the stage, we will wave you and your parents up when we are ready for you.”

  A line was forming to the right of the stage and several teens from the River Caldera were already there. Tristan was in a rush. He dragged both his parents along. The sudden rush nearly pulled his mother off her feet, but instead of getting angry, she simply laughed and followed. They were just as eager as he was. His raw excitement and long stride put them close to the front of the line. Never had he been so grateful for an early growth spurt.

  With only three people before him, he waited impatiently for his turn. Fire or darkness both seemed awesome and he would be happy with either. Tristan’s future looked bright.