The oppressive frostbitten months had persisted well past their December egress, prolonging the hardships of the dry season;

Its scathing chill vaporized the most minuscule sign of condensation, while upon its blue throne, the reigning sun remained unclouded, untamed, and unleashed.

The skies were barren of moisture.

With arid days fueling the growing scarcity, worries of famine began encroaching upon the normally fertile spring.

Even the blanket of night frost struggled to douse the plains.

Withered and emaciated sprigs, were all these nights could muster, as the escalating weather persevered into the latter fortnight of November.

Underneath the barren landscapes of mud and stone; Nanuivuk’s enclaves would endure these caustic days cloistered beneath a frozen concrete jungle laden with the sinking monoliths of a lost civilization.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Among the numerous schools that marched beneath the ruins, the pale hair and ghostly face of a young boy stood out among his slightly tawny schoolmates.

His snowy face was dotted with two crimson eyes.

On his seventh birthday, for his first trip to the surface chambers, T’udze found himself in a grandiose hallway cast with ornaments and statues of which their intricacy, no hand could conceive.

Not that his special day made much of a difference, as every peer that he marched along, from toddler to teen, shared the occasion.

As was customary of course, with the nature of Exalation being crucial as it was.

For once T’udze would step beyond the fort’s Antiquitech walls.

For once he would finally see his father commanding a Vanatuk pod.

During the cold’s most auspicious days, they would adventure forth and back, through buried tunnels ripe with the aroma of petrichor.

Today was no exception.

“Cauhtiquiza!”

An elderly woman shouted.

Thrusting her palm towards the following children.

Examining the floor she could see slabs of stone shattered against the floor.

The collapsing hallways could no longer escape the noxious air.

Cycles of melting and freezing days had, over the years, gradually eroded the surviving edifices.

“Tlamatzaline.”

A mousy voice pleaded.

“I’m thirsty.”

The elderly woman rummaged through her robes,

Her thick iridescent bangles clattered with her fidgeting, pulling a leather canteen.

“Here darling.”

Handing over the drink.

“Tlama-tlama.”

“Why do you try to speak like her nerd.”

Hehehehe

The rest of his schoolmates giggled at the T’udze boy.

T’udze guzzled the bulbous canteen within seconds.

Dripping down his ruddy face.

Ignoring the usual bullying.

Caustic ice had bore through the stone ceiling, the piercing cold baked the moisture from the exposed soil.

It seemed drought had finally breached the shrouded underpass; it was only a matter of days before it invaded the sanctuary.

“Oh dear”

She turned back to her chattering students.

“Alright children, I’m going…”

Chat

chat

chat

The younglings ignored their instructor, preferring to gossip amongst themselves.

“Children, attention please.”

On the children continued, her small plea unanswered.

[STONE SHIFT]

Her mind recalled.

Lifting her cane she slammed its foot into the ground.

From its center, a ring expanded beneath her feet.

A bronze glow emanated around her.

Lifting her staff once more, an ethereal mist flowed from her body, stretching towards the fallen roof.

As the mist enveloped the crumbled stone, the energy seeping into the intricate carvings, its glowing veins like the runes of the sigil.

CRUNCH

RUMBLE

The churning boulders groaned as they ascended over the hole it once occupied.

Her student’s eyes gaped with awe.

Their hypnotized stares quickly dissolved into panic as the crone drifted the rubble over their heads.

“Shall we get going?”

She smirked.

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

Without hesitation, their feet scurried back into formation.

Below the forgotten vestiges of rubble and steel, schools of Vanatuk’s children continued on sheltered below sculpted archways, guided by the luminescent rock paving the way.

A symphony of their rigid steps reverberated across the network of masonry, their rhythmic marching fueling the collapsed citadel’s gemite pillars.

Starvation, disease, and violence was a normal worry for the Vunatak.

The solstice was always an ordeal, for beast and man alike; But for the children of Vanatuk, their minds could never fathom a more terrifying thought than failing their graduation rites, well that and their teacher, the great Yunuen.

Much to the youngling’s misfortune, this was the most crucial Exalation of their lives, even more to their dismay it was always the first.

For these last few days the Initiation had consumed their waking thoughts, yet nothing could prepare one for the ordeals every child faces before their trial.

Even after all these years, after all the adventures with his father, T’udze still carried the same fear of his first purge.

Tunnel after tunnel, step by step the heat strangled the air.

With head soaked, the weight of his snow-white hair gripped his scalp.

He wrapped his dusty white tunic into his fist, rubbing his face with the fabric

The trickling sweat had managed to drop into his eyes, and the aggravating sting had induced a profuse rush of tears which began to blur what little he could see.

After what felt like an endless cave submerged in the deafening parade of classmates, T’udze could see the lights piercing through the approaching hall.

The sunbeams seemed of solid glass against the darkness, one could easily confuse them with the Teoyotiwa rocks which illuminated the floor.

“Cauhtiquiza!”

The instructor commanded once more, ceasing the student fleet.

The rhythmic marching of the troop faded into the opening of the catacombs’ main chamber.

Ahead an altar stood before the daunting archway which separates the Vanatuk from the flood of blood fiends.

“Alright children, ears towards me, eyes on my lips.”

The brown woman tapped the end of her crutch against the granite gates that sealed the temple.

A splash of translucent ripples enveloped her ivory cane as the glistening waves mirrored across the Etchanted gate.

Soft shimmering waves radiated from its doors, illuminating the darkness and bathing the soft tribal patterns on the woman’s robes.

“Which of you can tell me what the emblem protecting the gateway seal is?”

She leaned her cane against the tiled floor, holding it between both hands.

T’udze jolted his arm from the chattering crowd.

“Someone OTHER than Asedatzin…”

Glancing around the room, her eyes looking past the eager child waving his hand with enthusiasm

“Sorry darling…but we need an Exelate.”

“AAAAAYYYYYY!”

A girl within the waiting students shrieked.

“StaaaAAAP SALBATOR!”

T’udze’s pupils shrunk as his burning eyes bulged with shock.

“MOVE IT FREAK!”

Salbator shouted, not before his foot crumbled the poor girl’s knee.

Looking around he caught a glimpse of Salbator wading towards him from between the sea of peers.

Not far behind and without a failure his fawning minions cackled at his every whim.

“Yeah Qavunik, why are you even here, loser?”

A dirty blond boy among his gang tossed a small pebble striking T’udze on the tip of his knife-shaped ear.

“OW! Tlamatzal Sal- "

A glob of iridescent mud lodged itself into T’udze’s tongue.

“HAHAHAHA”

His classmates laughs egged on the scoundrels.

“A meal fit for an Elfae ey guys?”

Salbator waved his hand, dissipating the smoking energy from his fist.

“PFFFFFFT!

COugh CoUGH couGH!”

T’udze spat everything he could.

“Oh wait this one is an EL-OSER!”

He cackled.

“SALBATZIN!”

She blurted, catching herself she retracted her tone back to its professional demeanor

“How about… you come up here and show him how it’s done?” The instructor’s seasoned words continued with a smile.

“Who better to show him how it’s done than our very own valedictor?”

The perfectly lined children stepped in unison, revealing Salbator as he paced towards the arching gates.

Glaring back at T’udze, a threat for embarrassing him in front of everyone, a warning that this was not over.

“Pffft I don’t want these losers copying my sYmb-Acy.”

He snorted.

“Shame…And here I thought you’d be ready for your very own shard, with talent such as yours this novice seal should be as easy as picking on the Mutetates.”

Stretching her hand towards T’udze’s, her sweet tone was replaced by stern words.

“Maybe T’udze should give it a try.”

Ordering the boy as she slammed her cane into the marbled floors.

“But you said only I could…”

Salbator’s complaint was interrupted by the elder.

“Asedatzin would you like the honor?” She leaned her cane towards T’udze.

“NO, I'AM DOING IT! SHE ASKED ME FIRST!”

Yanking the weapon from her hands he stomped towards the gates.

“Attention children, our future Chief Salbator is about to enlighten us with his family’s expertise.”

She tapped her foot, a smirk masked beneath her stern face.

He looked towards her, and as their eyes met she raised her brows, pointing them back towards the closed doorway.

At just eight years old, Salbator had few years left before reaching adolescence and yet Exalation had become child’s play for the boy.

He was well on his way to becoming the youngest Mystic in all of Vanatuk.