Chapter 61: The first flame
The books in the Wall’s library had given eleven full pages to the process of opening a person’s first Star.
According to them, it was supposed to be a long and difficult process. A cultivator would spend months or even years pushing against the seal inside their body, slowly weakening it until the Star finally responded.
When it finally happened, the breakthrough was usually violent.
The cultivator would gasp as a huge amount of power suddenly rushed through channels that were not yet strong enough to handle it. Most newly awakened Initiates were left lying on their backs for at least a week after opening their first Star.
Opening a Star before the age of twenty was considered an early achievement.
Opening one in less than a season was described as something that only talented people could do, and doing so within a month was in the realm of geniuses.
Gus opened the Vermilion Star in three weeks.
He did it while sitting on frozen ground after completing a full day’s work.
And the way it actually happened was nothing like what the books had described.
The boy slowly breathed out.
Then he said, "Oh," in a small voice filled with wonder.
And suddenly, he lit up like a lamp.
There was no violent explosion.
There was no scream.
There was not even a sudden burst of power.
Instead, warmth slowly rolled away from Gus in a widening circle and spread across the frozen training ground.
The frost covering the ground began to disappear.
The wet flagstones started steaming.
Even the blue lamp hanging from the mast above them flickered and went dim for a moment, almost as if it felt embarrassed by what was happening below it.
For four or five heartbeats, Gus actually glowed in the winter darkness.
The light came from beneath his skin, from somewhere low on his spine.
It was a deep red glow, like a coal that had just been given a breath of air after sitting buried beneath ashes.
The moth that had been following him for the past few nights suddenly began flying around his head in small, happy circles.
Then the glow disappeared.
There was only a fifteen-year-old boy sitting in the middle of a circle of wet flagstones, staring at his own hands with wide eyes.
"Young master," Gus said.
Encrid looked at him.
"Young master, I’m sorry. Was that allowed?"
Encrid sat down across from him because he could no longer stand, mostly because they had gone numb after so much training while sitting cross-legged and partly because of the absurdness in front of him.
"Was it..."
He stared at Gus for a moment before laughing.
The laughter came out as white clouds in the freezing air.
"Allowed? Gus, people train for years to do what you just did."
Encrid managed to stop laughing and looked at the boy more carefully.
Then he glanced at the panel floating in front of him.
[Name: Gus]
[Age: 15]
[Realm: Initiate]
[Star Level: One - Vermilion]
[Talent: ▮▮▮▮▮▮]
[ERROR: Value exceeds display parameters.]
Encrid was shocked beyond words but he didn’t show it on his face.
Because Gus needed something more important than his surprise.
He needed to understand what had just happened.
So Encrid took a breath and spoke seriously.
"Gus, you spent five years watching people from that stable loft while you waited for someone to give you a chance. You were already training before anyone gave you permission to train. That door was always going to recognize you."
Gus looked down at his hands.
He slowly raised them in front of his face and turned them over, looking at his palms as if they belonged to someone else.
Encrid couldn’t fathom what emotions he might be feeling at the moment. A boy who was just a slave, hiding all his emotions and desire to grow stronger, was now a cultivator on the path of becoming something.
A thin curl of steam rose from each of Gus’ hands and disappeared into the cold air.
"It’s the fire one," he whispered. "Isn’t it? The red one. The soldier’s Star."
"The Vermilion Star," Encrid said with a nod. "Fire, temper, and the furnace of the body. The greatest front-line fighters in history were Vermilion cultivators."
He looked at Gus.
"It suits you."
And it really did.
It suited the boy who carried firewood for strangers without being asked.
It suited the boy who had spent years working harder than anyone around him because he desperately wanted to prove that he was worth something.
It suited him so perfectly that Encrid felt that strange shiver he used to get as a reader.
It was the feeling of watching a story finally fall into place, as though this was what the story had always intended.
"What do I do now, young master?"
"Now?"
Encird grabbed Gus by the arm, pulled him to his feet, and turned him toward the granary.
"Now you’re an Initiate."
He pointed toward the granary.
"Which means you have channels to develop. It means you have to cultivate.."
Encrid paused and looked toward the mountains of grain stored nearby.
"New fire and old timber are a famous combination, and we happen to sleep beside four hundred tons of grain."
Gus immediately nodded.
"Yes, young master."
"You’ll cultivate there in the mornings before we start dealing with the letters. I’ll sit with you."
"Yes, young master."
"And Gus."
Jin looked at him.
The boy was thin and careful, and his loyalty was almost frighteningly strong. There was still a faint glow around the edges of his body, and he was standing in the middle of a circle of melted frost that he had created himself.
For a moment, Encrid felt something tighten inside his chest.
For once, he did not blame Encrid’s body for it.
"Well done," he said.
Gus’s face immediately brightened.
The expression was so full of happiness that it reminded him of Arthur’s face when the boy had finally received something he had been waiting for.
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