The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, and Zhen awoke with that clarity that only comes after restorative sleep. From his makeshift bed on the floor, he observed Felicity sleeping deeply in her bed, her face serene and one hand resting on the pillow.
The morning light caressed her silver-blonde hair. Zhen contemplated her for a moment, almost reverently, before silently rising, respecting the serenity of the moment. Dressed in his usual attire—fitted, comfortable, and modest—Zhen left the room.
The academy’s hallways seemed to breathe with a life of their own: ancient stones whispered stories in forgotten tongues, while crystal-winged butterflies fluttered between columns that rose toward an impossibly blue sky.
In the hanging gardens, flowers that changed color with the angle of the sun released aromas that evoked memories of places never visited.
Lost in contemplation of such everyday beauty, his steps led him to a side courtyard, where the air danced with sparks of magic. A diverse group of students practiced their arts: a young elf wove light between her fingers while conversing with a golden-scaled draconid, a celestial nomad levitated his book while his silver hair undulated with a nonexistent breeze, and a pair of dwarves transformed the morning dew into crystalline melodies.
“Hey, you, newcomer!” —an authoritative voice cut through the air like the blade of an ancient sword—. “Where is your uniform? Come here immediately!”
The voice belonged to a draconid whose golden scales gleamed under the morning light. He wore the academy’s male uniform: fitted emerald-green trousers, a white medieval-style shirt with finely embroidered cuffs, and a vest of the same deep green as the female corset. A high-collared cape with brown trim completed the ensemble, waving majestically with each of his movements.
“I don’t have a uniform,” Zhen responded, his voice calm but firm, maintaining respect in every word.
he murmurs and laughter began to rise among the students. A group of elves interrupted their magical exercises to observe the scene, while a pair of dwarves exchanged knowing glances. A celestial nomad, his silver hair undulating with an imperceptible breeze, whispered something that provoked more contained laughter.
Zhen, instead of being intimidated, walked with determined steps toward the center of the courtyard. Under everyone’s attentive gaze, including the draconid instructor, he found his space as if the entire courtyard had been waiting for him.
There, without saying a word, he removed his jacket, folding it carefully. His body naturally found the Wu Ji posture, that state of emptiness where there is no separation or duality. As the ancient masters taught, it was the moment where the practitioner became an empty circle that contained everything, while containing nothing. His feet rooted to the ground while his mind reached that state of perfect stillness where time loses meaning.
There, without a word, he removed his jacket, folding it carefully.
His body naturally found the Wu Ji posture, that state of emptiness where separation and duality cease to exist. As the ancient masters taught, it was the moment when the practitioner became an empty circle that contained everything, while containing nothing. His feet rooted to the ground while his mind reached that state of perfect stillness where time loses meaning.
From emptiness emerged movement, like the universe’s first breath. His shoulders began a subtle dance, followed by his neck and wrists, each joint gradually awakening to life. His hands rose with the gentleness of a leaf swayed by the breeze, naturally finding the ancient positions of Tai Ji.
The advanced kata emerged like spring water: fluid, precise, inevitable. Each movement was born from the previous one with captivating grace, each pause contained the tension of a drawn bow.
The laughter and whispers gradually faded, replaced by reverent silence. Even the draconid instructor, who had crossed his arms with an expression of slight impatience, now watched with furrowed brow, intrigued by this ancient dance that needed no magic to manifest power.
The advanced kata emerged like spring water: fluid, precise, inevitable. Each movement was born from the previous one with captivating grace; each pause contained the tension of a drawn bow.
The laughter and whispers gradually faded, replaced by reverent silence. Even the draconid instructor, who had crossed his arms with an expression of slight impatience, now watched with furrowed brow, intrigued by this ancient dance that needed no magic to manifest power.
The kata was not just a physical exercise. For Zhen, it was a way to connect his body with the environment. Each time he turned, bent his torso, or extended an arm, his control and precision were absolute. Those present could not help but watch: some captivated by the perfection of each movement, others feigning disinterest.
“Look at the magicless monkey,” whispered a draconid to his companions, though his golden eyes missed no detail of the demonstration. “Are those ridiculous movements supposed to compensate for his lack of power?”
The instructor observed with growing interest the discipline shown in each transition. A group of elves exchanged mocking glances, but their laughter sounded forced, as if trying to hide their fascination.
At that moment, in the room, Felicity awoke with a start. Morning light flooded the chamber, but the space where Zhen had slept was empty. Her heart raced while memories of years of taunts and humiliations flooded her mind. With trembling hands, she hurried to wash up. Her haste caused water from the basin to splash around her.
Her fingers struggled with the corset laces while her mind imagined the worst scenarios. Had they cornered him in some hallway? Were Connor and his followers taking advantage of her absence to intimidate him? The idea of Zhen facing alone the cruelty she knew so well made her stomach churn.
She paused for a moment before the mirror, observing her reflection with tearful eyes. Years of cutting remarks and scornful looks had carved a fragility in her spirit that not even her extraordinary beauty could hide. She had always responded to malice with silence and gentleness, but now, for the first time, she felt a different urgency. She couldn’t allow them to hurt Zhen as they had hurt her.
As she ran through the hallways, Felicity felt her heart beating strongly. Her steps led her to the training courtyard, where the sound of voices and laughter guided her. As she turned the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Zhen stood in the center of the courtyard. His serene posture contrasted with the mocking glances that surrounded him. The draconid instructor, whose golden scales shimmered under the morning sun, couldn’t help but observe him with a mixture of curiosity and disdain.
“Interesting display,” said the instructor. His voice resonated in the now silent courtyard. “But here we need more than pretty movements. Are you ready for a real test?”
Felicity stepped forward. Her hands nervously clutched the folds of her skirt. She knew that tone too well, having heard it countless times directed at her. It was the prelude to another humiliation.
“Master Aurion,” she intervened, her voice firmer than it felt, “he just arrived, barely...”
“Silence, half-elf,” the draconid cut her off. “Your familiar must prove his worth. Unless you’d prefer we declare him incompetent here and now.”
The students’ contained laughter echoed in the courtyard. A group of elves exchanged amused glances, while a pair of celestial nomads whispered to each other, their silver hair waving in a subtle breeze.
“This is your familiar? A human?” the draconid instructor’s voice dripped with incredulity and disdain. “Why isn’t he confined to limbo as he should be?”
The caustic tone made several students exchange mocking glances, while others whispered among themselves. A group of nearby elves didn’t even try to hide their contempt. Their contained laughter floated in the air like poisoned daggers.
“Zhen is my familiar, yes,” responded Felicity, straightening slightly, while her blue eyes shone with determination.
“As you can see, he is a human gifted with extraordinary reasoning and self-control, not a beast that needs to be contained in limbo. His movements demonstrate a discipline that many here would envy,” her voice, though soft, carried a tone of dignity that surprised even herself.
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Technically, she wasn’t lying: she couldn’t keep him in limbo, but she didn’t need to. The true reason for his freedom—the failure of the control seal—would remain her secret.
Zhen stepped forward, with a serene and controlled posture.
“What I just demonstrated is an ancient form of Tai Chi,” he explained in a calm voice, addressing the draconid instructor. “It is a discipline that seeks balance between body and mind through movement and breathing. It is not magic, but the result of training and dedication.”
His words, though respectful, carried the weight of experience. The draconid instructor observed him with a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, while evaluating the newcomer.
“Each movement has a purpose,” Zhen continued, “and although I may not possess magic here, the bodily and mental control that Tai Chi provides is as valuable as any spell.”
The draconid instructor let out a harsh laugh. With a sudden movement of his hand, he traced a symbol in the air and the courtyard floor began to transform.
“If you’re so disciplined, prove it,” he roared. His golden eyes gleamed with malice. “Enter there and cross to the other side!”
The floor turned crystalline like frozen water, revealing an underground labyrinth that extended several meters beneath their feet. The students crowded around. Their faces, reflected in the transparent floor, showed their anxiety to witness the spectacle.
Through the crystalline floor, Zhen could see narrow corridors and mechanical traps that moved with deadly precision.
“Are you afraid, human?” said an elven student from the crowd in a mocking tone, provoking contained laughter among his companions.
Without a word, Zhen jumped into the labyrinth. The transparent floor allowed everyone to observe his descent, as if he were suspended in a giant aquarium.
The first section revealed itself as a nightmare corridor: oscillating blades cutting the air in deadly patterns. One of them, bright and lethal, rotated on its axis in a perfect arc. The polished metal captured the light, creating flashes that danced on Zhen’s bronzed skin like silver caresses. For an instant, time seemed to slow down: the blade grazed his side with the delicacy of a cruel lover, cutting the fibers of his white shirt. The fabric separated with magnetic elegance, revealing a glimpse of golden skin.
Like bamboo in the mountains, thought Zhen, remembering training summers among sharp stalks swaying in the wind. His body instinctively adopted the Leopard Form, each muscle remembering the speed needed to dodge those natural blows.
The blades multiplied into a denser pattern. The Snake Form emerged as his body contorted between the deadly edges with millimetric precision.
An ancient wooden mass descended from above, its gears threatening to crush him. Still recovering from the contortion, Zhen let his body fall backward. His muscles tensed like steel cables while his back arched, brushing the ground.
“Power comes from the earth,” the master’s words echoed. The Tiger Form emerged in a contained explosion: his leg rose like a whip, tracing a perfect arc. His heel’s impact against the trap resonated with a deafening crack.
“Extraordinary,” whispered a draconid. “The force needed to shatter enchanted wood...”
The floor disintegrated beneath his feet, revealing an abyss dotted with slender pillars. Like in the kwoon practices, his body spun like a leaf in the wind.
The Crane Form blossomed with measured elegance, finding perfect balance atop one of the pillars. A celestial nomad student held their breath, marveled at such display of control.
He leaped into the void, dodging a barrage of metal darts. During the spin, the Dragon Form emerged with fascinating synchronicity. The trapdoors activated, launching projectiles from multiple angles. Zhen responded with a fluid combination of blocks and counterattacks, his body moving like water between threats.
“The dragon’s force flows like water.” The master’s words echoed as he chained techniques with feline agility, each movement a natural extension of the previous one.
The draconid instructor watched with a mixture of amazement and wounded pride, unable to hide his fascination at such display of physical control.
Felicity watched, entranced. Her heart beat with a new rhythm that awakened unknown sensations. An unexplored warmth expanded from her belly when he executed that impossible kick. His body moved with such wild grace that it stole her breath. She unconsciously bit her lower lip as something pulsed between her legs. A warm, moist sensation emerged like a bud opening to the sun. Her cheeks burned as she contemplated how the torn fabric of his shirt clung to Zhen’s torso, revealing the perfection of his anatomy with each turn and flex. The sweat that pearled his bronzed skin shimmered under the crystalline labyrinth’s light, drawing ephemeral constellations on his tense muscles that contracted and relaxed in a sublime dance of contained power.
Felicity watched, transfixed, divided between two forces battling within her. Her mind, schooled in the academy’s strictest protocols, demanded she maintain composure. But beneath that layer of refinement, something primitive and wild stirred, awakening sensations that no grimoire had ever cataloged. The torn fabric of Zhen’s shirt revealed fragments of bronzed skin, and though her education screamed at her to look away, her eyes disobeyed, following each movement with a fascination that scandalized her. The sweat that pearled his torso gleamed under the crystalline labyrinth’s light, drawing ephemeral patterns that her rational mind tried to ignore. She bit her lip, while a newly discovered part of her being yearned to lose herself in that display of power and grace.
The final section emerged as a symphony of dangers: all previous traps converged in a deadly dance. Zhen’s movements flowed like water between obstacles, each martial form merging with the next in perfect harmony.
His arms deflected projectiles while his legs traced lethal patterns. A wooden block flew toward his face: the Snake dodged. Another sought his legs: the Leopard leaped. A rain of darts threatened his chest: the Crane dispersed them. A massive trap descended from above: the Tiger pulverized it.
The draconid instructor watched with a mixture of amazement and wounded pride, his voice barely a whisper:
“No body should move like this without the power of magic.”
The draconid instructor straightened up, his scales showing a flash of irritation.
“Very well, human, you have passed the first-year labyrinth,” his voice resonated with disdain. “But you must understand that this test is designed for mages, not for summoned familiars.”
Zhen, maintaining his perfect posture after the bow, responded with a serene voice as Felicity approached with nervous steps:
“The motionless dragon in deep waters becomes prey to the crabs.”
His words, an ancient proverb from his homeland, floated in the air like incense. The students exchanged confused glances while the instructor narrowed his golden eyes, unable to decipher whether that response was an act of humility or a subtle provocation.
“The tests with familiars are much more demanding,” insisted the draconid. “Don’t take too much pride in it.”
The bell rang in the courtyard, its echo bouncing off the ancient stone walls. The students began to disperse, some still casting furtive glances at the pair, while whispers and theories floated like dark clouds.
The instructor remained motionless a moment longer, observing them with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Finally, with a fluid movement of his cape, he turned and walked away, his steps resonating with authority on the stone floor.
Felicity remained close to Zhen. In her heart beat a dance with a rhythm so surprising that she had never felt in all her years of studying ancient magic.
An unknown aroma emanated from him, wild and primitive, awakening sensations that no spellbook had ever mentioned. Her eyes wandered uncontrollably, like butterflies drawn to a fascinating and dangerous flame. She bit her lip, overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions she couldn’t name, while her mind fought against sensations that threatened to overflow the boundaries of her education.
“It’s just the exercise,” she told herself, though she knew she was lying. Her hands yearned to touch that bronzed skin, to feel the muscles she had seen move with such grace moments before. But years of social conditioning kept her motionless, forcing her to suppress her desires, leaving them imprisoned in an invisible net of expectations and prohibitions.
Zhen, oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions he stirred in her, ran a hand through his damp hair. For him, the demonstration had been simply another test of his abilities, like so many others he had faced in the kwoon.
“We have two days of rest after an invocation,” explained Felicity while fidgeting with the necklace that glowed faintly against her skin. Despite the ritual’s exhaustion, the morning’s energy seemed to revitalize her spirit. “The sage gave me this necklace to help restore my magic ring.”
Her fingers brushed the white stone that seemed to contain transparent light. The morning was perfect: the sun bathed the hanging gardens and a fresh breeze crossed the ancient hallways.
“Would you like to see the academy?” she asked, while a strand of silver hair danced on her cheek. “We have two days ahead to explore it without hurry.”
Her hand trembled in the air between them, suspended in that space where desire fights against fear. Her fingers moved with the timidity of a bird hesitating to leave its nest. What if he rejects me? What if he thinks I’m too forward?
Time seemed to stop in that moment of perfect vulnerability. But something stronger than her fears pushed her forward. With a courage that contradicted all her education, her fingers found Zhen’s. The contact sent an electric current through her arm, and when he intertwined his fingers with hers, the world seemed to stop.
Zhen, who moments before had demonstrated absolute control over every muscle in his body, felt all his discipline vanish at the simple contact of that hand. His fingers, capable of executing the most lethal forms of kung fu, now trembled imperceptibly. An unknown warmth rose through his arm, settling in his chest like a flame that no training had prepared him to control. “Why do I feel this way? What are these new sensations?” he thought, while his damp palm betrayed the serenity he tried to maintain.
The stairs appeared as a blessing for both. The need to maintain balance gave them the perfect excuse to separate their hands, though the tingling of contact persisted on their skin, like a sweet reminder of that moment.
