The Naming Ritual

A Fantasy Novelette

In a world where magic defines worth and names are earned through harsh trials, one man has lived fifteen years as less than nothing - a simple woodcutter. When the clan's future warriors need an escort to their coming-of-age ritual, who better than the one who knows the cost of failure? But the ancient mountains hold darker secrets than even the elders remember, and what should have been a simple escort becomes a desperate battle against forces that clan magic was never meant to face. As shadows descend and ancient barriers weaken, the boys only hope may lie in the hands of the one person everyone believes has nothing to offer.

—

The axe bit into frost-hardened wood and stuck fast, the shock jolting up through Leaf's wrists. He wrenched it free with a growl that steamed in the bitter air, the old knot in his left shoulder twisting like a knife. He shifted his grip higher on the worn handle, lined up with the hairline crack, and struck again. A hollow pop rewarded his effort. He rolled his shoulder, trying to ease the familiar ache that came from hours of swinging.

Horn calls pierced the silence first—just snatches carried on the wind, then growing stronger.. Leaf's fingers tightened on the axe handle as their notes grew stronger, triumphant.Soon, warriors would be stepping through the village gates, their hands still shimmering with the blue fire that had carved their path to glory. Here, in the deepening dusk, Leaf had only his axe and the weight of another day's labor.

Adjusting his stance in the packed snow, he raised the axe again, arms trembling with fatigue. The blade bit deeper this time, and he had to brace his boot against the log to wrench it free. More horns joined the first, their bright notes piercing the evening air, as the crunch of boots in crusted snow made his shoulders tighten.

"Is that all you've managed since morning?" Lyneeta's voice scraped across his back like ice against stone. She planted herself beside his woodpile, prodding it with the toe of her boot like she'd found something dead. Leaf steadied the axe against the splitting stump.

"My body can only take so much. One stroke at a time is all I have."

"One stroke at a time," she mimicked, her voice pitched high in mockery. "Real men are out there defending our borders, would you have them waste their powers on mundane chores?" She gestured dismissively at his work. "No name, no magic - what use are you to the clan beyond these servant's tasks? Even a child could split more wood with a single gesture than you manage in a day."

Movement at the tree line caught his attention. Sylvia! She picked her way through the snow, placing each step with care and grace. Their eyes met across the clearing, and her face softened, there was still warmth when she looked at him,

"The evening fires need feeding, Mother." Her voice carried the careful neutrality of long practice, though her fingers twisted in her furs when she glanced his way.

Lyneeta's face darkened. "Still looking at him like that, after all these years?" She rounded on her daughter. "Have you forgotten what he is? A coward who couldn't even face the ritual circle? This is what you'd choose - a man who can't even spark kindling?"

Sylvia's silence held the weight of years. She gathered wood into her arms with deliberate care, her movements slower than necessary as she passed near him, each log placed with precision, a communication between them did not require words

"Come," she murmured to her mother. "Night draws near."

Lyneeta's laugh crackled like frost-split bark. "Look at you both. The power in our blood deserves better than this... woodcutter."

Their footprints filled with shadow as they went, swallowed by darkness and the blaring horns. Leaf's fingers found the axe handle again. The first strike cracked the air like thunder. The second sent splinters flying. By the third, he couldn't see through the stinging in his eyes—sweat or something else, it didn't matter. The log shattered, and he reached for another.. Fifteen years of scorn, of sideways glances, of magic that danced forever beyond his reach - he poured it all into the swing of the blade, again and again, until his arms shook and the splitting stump was buried in the wreckage of his rage.

Leaf shouldered his way through the deepening dark, wood stacked high in his arms. The weight was familiar after so many years, each log placed just so to balance the load. Ahead, the clan hall rose against the purple ink of the evening sky, its carved pillars echoing the mountains beyond. He paused to adjust his burden, knowing the last logs of the day deserved the same care as the first.

"Leaf."

The voice stopped him mid-stride. Elder Torvald stood in the hall's doorway, his silver hair catching the last light of day. Even at this hour, he carried himself with the straight-backed dignity of a man half his age.

Leaf knelt slowly, setting his load down with practiced precision. One by one, he arranged the logs fitted to its neighbor like stones in a wall. Some habits, once learned, became a kind of pride.

"Elder." He straightened, his back protesting the movement.

"The moons are aligned just so," Torvald said, his eyes on the sky. "Do you mark their position?"

Leaf brushed splinters from his worn vest, though he knew the gesture wouldn't hide the day's labor written in his posture. "Tomorrow," he said. "The boys face their ordeal."

"Five of them this season." Torvald watched as Leaf adjusted one last log that threatened to roll free. "Strong ones, most of them. Though young Sparrow struggles with his forms." He paused, weathered face turning to Leaf. "I watched them training this morning. Their sword work is rough. Would you see them at practice tomorrow, before they begin?"

Leaf's hands stilled on the wood. Fifteen years had passed but he could still feel the weight of the practice sword in his hands, the tremor in his fingers as he'd tried to summon power that wouldn't come.

"Sir, I would not be of any use.'"

"No one was sadder than I that day," Torvald said quietly. "Except perhaps my daughter."

Leaf busied himself with one final adjustment to the woodpile, though it needed none. Each log lay perfectly aligned, a small perfection in an imperfect world. "The past is the past, Elder. Tomorrow's wood needs gathering, and the fires need feeding."

"Indeed they do." Torvald's eyes held something that might have been regret, or might have been hope. "But tomorrow's fires will wait for tomorrow's wood. Watch them train, Leaf. That's all I ask."

Leaf inclined his head, unable to refuse the elder outright. The carved pillars cast long shadows as he stepped away, and he felt Torvald's gaze follow him into the darkness.

He leaned back against the rough timber wall, watching his breath cloud in the moonlight. The scent of woodsmoke curled up through the smoke-hole, and for a moment he was fifteen again, standing at the edge of the ritual circle while blue light danced around the other boys' fingers.

They were laughing at him, as his own hands had trembled, producing not even a spark. The Elder's voice echoing: "Step forward, take your place." But his feet had frozen like the ground beneath them, while whispers rippled through the watching crowd. He flexed his fingers now, callused and strong from years of honest labor. They knew wood and steel, the weight of an axe, the grain of timber. But they had never known that other weight - the pulse of power that made a true warrior of the clan.

His shoulders protested as he shifted on the bench, a familiar ache that spoke of work done well. Yet beneath it lay that other pain, the one that gnawed deeper with each passing season. Tomorrow's boys would stand where he had stood, their hearts racing with the same fear he'd known. Some would triumph, and some, gods forbid, might fail.

He closed his fingers into a fist, then opened them again to the empty air. The words of power died unspoken on his lips.

…

Dawn crept over the training ground, its pale light catching the frost that rimed the wooden practice swords. Leaf lingered at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden behind a stack of firewood. The five boys gathered before the weapons rack, their breath clouding in the crisp air, each reaching for their swords in ways that spoke volumes of their nature.

Tree Bark shouldered through the smaller boys, knocking River sideways. He snatched the largest practice sword—the one meant for Bear—and spun it in a showy arc. Blue sparks spat from his fingertips.

"Watch this!" he called, spinning into an advanced form he'd seen the warriors use. Power expelled from him like heat from a forge, wild and unfocused.

"By the frozen hells," Snow Bird cursed, ducking Tree Bark's wild swing. "You'll take someone's head off!" But his eyes gleamed with admiration, and he quickly grabbed his own sword, trying to mimic the flashy display with less success.

"Basic forms first," the sword master called. "Power means nothing without control."

Bear claimed his space with the quiet certainty of someone who knows exactly how much room he occupies in the world. No words, no flourish. Just the whispered rhythm of his blade parting air, each move planted as firmly as his feet in the frozen earth.

"Wider stance, Sparrow," the master corrected. The smallest boy flinched at the attention, his practice sword trembling in his grip. His attempted channel of power produced only a faint flicker, quickly extinguished. Tree Bark snickered, sending another shower of sparks in Sparrow's direction.

"Leave him be," River called lazily from the end of the line. He moved through his forms like his namesake, each stance flowing naturally into the next. "We all started somewhere." His easy grace drew an angry glare from Tree Bark, who's next swing blazed with excess power.

"Again!" the master called. "Tree Bark, less sparkshow, more substance. There is no point blinding your enemy with pretty lights if your blade is out of position."

""Who cares where your blade falls," Snow Bird laughed, "if your enemy's legs run wet with fear?" He attempted a spinning strike of his own, nearly tripping over his feet. Bear's steady rhythm never faltered, though his disapproving grunt spoke volumes. Beside him, Sparrow tried to make himself smaller, while River simply shook his head with an amused smile.

Tree Bark, stung by their reactions, channeled even more power into his next combination. The wooden sword hummed with barely contained energy. "I'll show you substance," he snarled, launching into the most advanced sequence he knew, but his feet tangled, sending him crashing into Sparrow. They both went down in a tangle of limbs and scattered sparks.

"Bloody fool," Snow Bird crowed, then yelped as the master's sharp look silenced him.

Bear helped Sparrow up with one hand, his other never leaving his sword's ready position. River offered Tree Bark a hand, but the proud boy scrambled up on his own, face flushed with humiliation quickly masked by anger.

Leaf watched from his hidden vantage, seeing with new eyes what he'd been too afraid to see in himself all those years ago. They weren't warriors yet. They were just boys, carrying their own fears beneath their bravado.

The Elder's voice carried across the training ground. "Leaf. A moment."

Leaf approached as the boys continued their practice, Tree Bark's excessive displays of power still sending sparks across the frosted earth. The Elder watched them with eyes that had seen forty years of such mornings.

"What do you make of them?" Torvald asked, his staff tapping thoughtfully against the frozen ground.

Leaf chose his words carefully. "They're... green." He watched Sparrow fumble another basic form, his blade wavering like a reed in the wind. "Maybe greener than I was."

"Indeed." Torvald's weathered fingers traced the worn grooves of his staff where generations of power had left their mark. "I wanted you to see them with a man's eyes, before offering this task to you. These boys need an escort to their ordeal site."

Leaf's chest tightened. "Sir, surely one of the warriors—"

"They are needed at the borders." Torvald's voice hardened like ice over deep water. "Strange signs in the deep woods. We can't spare the men." He turned, fixing Leaf with a keen gaze. "You know the path."

"I know it," Leaf admitted, the old fear coiling in his gut. "But sir, they have power. I have none. How can I…"

"Boys!" Torvald's call cut him short. The practice stopped, five faces turning toward them. "Gather round."

They approached in their own ways - Tree Bark strutting at their head with magic still crackling around his fingers, Snow Bird slouching with practiced insolence, Bear moving with measured steps, River meandering and taking the path of least resistance, and Sparrow trailing behind, trying to hide in the others' shadows.

"Leaf will guide you to your ordeal site."

Tree Bark's laugh shattered the morning silence. "Him? The coward who ran from his own testing?" Blue sparks danced along his practice sword. "He can't even light a candle with magic!"

Frost crackled in the air as Torvald visibly angered. Tree Bark's smirk faltered like a doused flame. "You haven't earned the right to that arrogance, boy. None of you have." His gaze swept across them. "Leaf's word is my word on this journey. Disobey him, and you will have to answer to me." He paused, letting the threat sink in. "If you return at all."

"Yes, Elder," they murmured, though Tree Bark's jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

"Go. Prepare yourselves. You leave at midday."

The boys scattered, Tree Bark shouldering roughly past Leaf as he went. When they were alone, Torvald drew a sword from beneath his cloak, its leather scabbard worn but well-maintained.

"Your task is to guide them to the site. Nothing more." He offered the blade. "You're not to interfere with the ordeal itself. But the path..." His eyes grew distant. "The path has its own trials."

Leaf took the sword, its weight familiar yet strange after so many years. "Thank you for having faith in me."Torvald nodded once, turned away. His staff tapped against the frozen ground as he walked, each strike marking the rhythm of years. Leaf tested the sword's balance, its steel catching the morning light. For a moment, he could almost imagine it held a glimmer of blue.

—

The conditions were harsh, each step a battle against winter's fury. Icy wind screamed down from the peaks, scouring exposed skin raw and turning breath to daggers in their lungs. The snow wasn't just deep - it was alive, malevolent, grasping at their legs and trying to drag them down into its frozen depths. Their destination ahead, the mountain range's jagged teeth biting at the iron-grey sky. It was the kind of sight that could make even a hardened warrior whisper prayers to the ancient powers, though Leaf noted with displeasure that his charges seemed more interested in their petty squabbles than the mountain's terrible majesty.

The wind caught Tree Bark's cloak, snapping it like a war banner. He used the moment to "accidentally" stumble into Sparrow, sending the smaller boy face-first into a snow drift. Snow Bird's laughter carried on the wind, punctuated by curses that would make a hardened warrior blush.

"Sir!" Sparrow emerged from the snow, his face reddened more by humiliation than cold. "Tree Bark keeps…"

"It's not my fault he can't keep his feet," Tree Bark sneered, blue sparks dancing between his fingers despite his exhaustion. "Maybe if he had any real power!"

"By the frozen hells," Snow Bird cut in, "even his whining is more entertaining than this cursed march."

"Enough!" Leaf's called out. He turned to face them "Tree Bark, take point with River. Snow Bird, save your breath for walking - you'll need it." He fixed them with a stare "The mountain doesn't care about your petty games. One wrong step here, and Spring will find your bones in some forgotten crevasse."

They fell into sullen silence, though Tree Bark's face burned with barely contained defiance. Bear helped Sparrow to his feet without comment, his steady presence more reassuring than words. River simply flowed around them all like water finding its course, adaptable as ever.

The wind eased as they reached the mountain's roots, where their ancestors had worked their magic into the very stone. Ancient steps emerged from the endless white, each one carved with runes that still held power after countless winters. Leaf could feel the old magic humming beneath his feet, though it offered little comfort. The boys might be contained for now, but he could sense the storm building between them, waiting to break with far more fury than mere weather. It was only a matter of when, not if.

The blue bolt sizzled past Tree Bark's ear, leaving a trail of crackling energy in the frozen air. Nobody breathed. Nobody moved. Until Sparrow looked down at his own hands like they belonged to a stranger.

"What did you do?" Tree Bark's voice was dangerously soft, magic already beginning to shimmer around his clenched fists.

"I-I didn't mean to." Sparrow backed away, boots scraping against the ancient stone. "It just happened. I was scared, and…"

"Just happened?" Power flared around Tree Bark like maelstrom. "A firebolt just leaped from your fingers by accident?" His laugh held no warmth. "Let me show you what real power feels like."

Tree Bark's fingers hooked like talons, and Sparrow's spine arched backward, a choked cry escaping his throat. Blue light crawled over him, digging in at joints and nerve points, making him dance in spasms that threatened to tear muscle from bone

"That will teach you to—"

"Release him!" boomed Leaf as he sprung into action.

"Just teaching the little bird a lesson." But Tree Bark's voice wavered, the certainty in his face cracking. His fingers trembled, power still pouring forth. "He needs to learn!"

"Now, Tree Bark!"

"Fine!" Fear replaced arrogance as Tree Bark's control slipped. "It won't stop. I don't know how to make it stop!"

Leaf didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, throwing himself between the boys. The moment his hands touched them both, power surged through him like molten metal poured into flesh. Every nerve screamed as the magic sought a new channel, a new path. He could feel Tree Bark's raw strength, wild and untamed, could feel Sparrow's smaller presence trembling like the last ember in winter's hearth. And somewhere, deep within himself, something answered their power - a resonance he had never felt before. His muscles locked as he fought to hold them apart, to redirect the flow of energy. Fifteen years of splitting wood. Fifteen years of shoulders burning and back screaming. Fifteen years of one more log, one more swing.

Now those callused hands became a wall, a redirect. He felt his heartbeat stutter as Tree Bark's magic poured through him instead of the smaller boy.

The pain grew wave after wave, crystallizing in his bones. But beneath it, he sensed something else - the fear threading through Tree Bark's magic, the desperate need to prove himself that drove the boy to such displays of force.

"Stop this!" The words tore from his throat as he wrenched them apart.

They collapsed into the snow, the magical connection shattering like icicles in a thaw. In the hushed silence, Leaf could still feel echoes of their power humming through his trembling muscles. Tree Bark scrambled to his feet first, face flushed with more than cold, unable to meet anyone's eyes. Sparrow rose more slowly, shaking but unhurt.

No one spoke as they reformed their line. Some lessons wrote themselves in memory better than any words could manage. Leaf turned back to the path, and after a moment, heard the crunch of boots following in his wake.

Leaf called a halt where several snow-choked paths converged in a natural hollow, sheltered by looming rock walls on three sides. The wind still found them, but its fury was blunted here. "Since you're all so eager to show your power," he said, brushing snow from his cloak, "let's see you put it to use. Each of you, create a flame. A controlled one," he added, seeing Tree Bark's fingers already dancing with excess energy.

The boys spread out in the hollow. Tree Bark's flame erupted first - a blue star that pulsed with his breathing, casting wild shadows on the rock walls. River settled cross-legged in the snow, his flame rising from cupped palms like a gentle spring. Snow Bird swore under his breath until his own fire sputtered to life, as erratic as his tongue. Bear's methodical approach produced a steady, unwavering light.

Only Sparrow struggled, his hands shaking as he whispered the words again and again. Each attempt produced only the faintest flicker before dying away like hope in winter. In Sparrow, Leaf saw a mirror of himself.

When their attention fixed on their own flames, he retreated to the hollow's edge. His fingers traced familiar patterns in the air, mouth forming words he'd practiced in secret for years. He reached for that feeling he'd touched during Tree Bark's attack - that resonance, that possibility…

"Still trying?"

Tree Bark's voice made him freeze. The boy watched him from beside his own flame, its light catching something almost like understanding in his face. Leaf let his hands fall to his sides, but for once, Tree Bark's expression held no mockery. For a moment, teacher and student regarded each with a brief moment of understanding.

—

Pressing on, the path wound between ancient stones, their surfaces carved with faces that seemed to watch with hollow eyes. Leaf felt the boys draw closer, their earlier bravado replaced by something more primal. Even Tree Bark's usual swagger had diminished to quick, nervous glances at the shadows between rocks. The air grew heavier with each step, as if the mountain itself held its breath. Strange whispers seemed to dance between the stones – perhaps just the wind finding ancient hollows, perhaps something else entirely. Little Feet kept his eyes forward, though his hand never strayed far from the sword the Elder had given him. He could feel the boys' fear like a physical presence, pressing against his back.

Ahead, a tattered flag hung limp in the dead air, marking the circle of standing stones where generations had faced their ordeal. The cloth, once bright with clan colors, had faded to the pallor of old bones, frayed edges fluttering like dying breath when occasional gusts found it. Runes etched into the stone glowed faintly with ancient echoes of ceremonial magic. They were close enough to read the nearest markings when… movement exploded from above – a massive shape, more beast than man, dropping into their path with a sound like thunder!

Sparrow's scream pierced the air. Training dissolved into panic as they scattered, boots slipping on ice-slick stone. Leaf ran with them, his heart hammering against his ribs, until they found shelter behind a cluster of rocks.

"Seven storms and shadow!" Snow Bird's favorite curse came out as a breathless wheeze. "What manner of beast was that?"

"A snow monster." Tree Bark straightened, though his hands trembled slightly as he gripped his sword. "Can't believe we fled like children. Some warriors we are."

"We were caught off guard," Leaf said, surprised by the steadiness in his own voice. "Running was wise. Now you can face it prepared."

"Help us? Please?" Sparrow's voice cracked as he turned to Leaf, fingers white-knuckled on his sword hilt.

"My task was to bring you to the testing grounds." Leaf kept his voice firm despite the guilt twisting in his gut. This had to be part of the ordeal - the beast, the fear, the moment when boys must stand on their own. "The rest is yours to face."

His refusal seemed to rekindle something in Tree Bark. Power sparked between his fingers as he turned to the others. "Form up behind me. Swords out." His voice found its commanding edge again. "Sparrow, we'll need one of your firebolts – a proper one this time." "Now, fall in behind me. Remember your training." Power crackled around his blade, casting wild shadows across his face.

Snow Bird spat into the snow. "Let's just kill the thing and be done!"

Tree Bark's commands carried on the wind as Leaf listened, each crackling burst of magic painting blue fire against the gathering dark. The beast's roars shook loose snow from the rocks, accompanied by the meaty thud of weapons striking flesh. Leaf's fingers dug into frozen stone as he fought the urge to run to them.

Then came a sound that froze his blood - a shriek that couldn't have come from any living thing, high and terrible and otherworldly. The clash of battle cut off instantly. An eerie silence followed, broken only by the panicked, stumbling voices of boys. He was running before conscious thought took hold, the Elder's sword in his hand. He found them huddled in a tight circle, faces ghostly pale. River and Bear stared blankly upward, while Snow Bird's usual curses died to breathless prayer. Sparrow saw him first.

"Leaf!" He cried. "It was horrible!"

They parted to reveal what lay at their feet. The snow monster's true form sprawled broken on the stones - a man, one of clans warriors, his flesh mottled with bruises and savage cuts no blade had made. The horror in Tree Bark's face told Leaf this wasn't the boy's doing.

"It was a trick," Tree Bark whispered, his earlier bravado shattered. "But there was a real monster... it just disappeared" His voice caught. "it killed him!"

"What manner of thing?" Leaf forced himself to examine the body, though every instinct screamed to run.

"A shadow with substance." Tree Bark's hands shook as he tried to demonstrate. "Black as a starless night. It just... descended, wrapped around him like smoke. And then…" He swallowed hard.

"We need to leave." Leaf straightened, but Tree Bark stood his ground.

"No." The boy's chin lifted. "I won't run from my naming day. Not like…" The accusation hung unspoken.

"What use is a name if you're dead?" Leaf took a step toward him, but Tree Bark's fingers sparked with desperate power.

"You can't stop me. I'm stronger than you." Fear made his voice echo and distort, made the magic around his hands sputter and flare.

Before Leaf could respond, Sparrow's scream shattered the air.

"Above!"

Sparrow's warning came too late. Leaf followed his gaze just as the world tore open. Not like cloth or skin, but like something that was never meant to tear at all. What poured through had no right to exist here. It descended in uncanny silence, a void given substance, edges rippling and reforming as if the very concept of shape was foreign to it. Where sunlight touched its surface, the light didn't reflect or absorb but simply ceased, as if that particular ray had never existed. The thing's shriek hit them a heartbeat later - the shriek didn't come through their ears. It came through their bones, their teeth, the soft parts of their brains. Leaf's vision flashed white-hot then ice-cold. He tasted childhood fears at the back of his throat. Beside him, River folded to his knees, blood threading from one nostril. Leaf’s hands clapped over his ears in futile defense, a gesture as meaningless as trying to block winter with cupped palms.

Bear alone stood his ground, the steadiest of them facing the incomprehensible with blade raised. Leaf tried to shout a warning, but his voice drowned beneath the psychic assault.The shadow-thing enveloped Bear with consuming purpose, its substance flowing around him like winter claiming a sleeping animal. Where the boy's sword should have met resistance, it swept through nothingness, yet where the darkness touched his skin, it gained horrible solidity..

Bear's scream began as defiance and transmuted through pain to something worse - silence when his voice should still have sounded. His skin split in dozens of places, not clean cuts but jagged tears that followed no logic of blade or claw. His sturdy frame convulsed in rhythms that echoed the shadow's own writhing, as if it were remaking him from within. His eyes - always so steady, so certain - rolled white with comprehension of something no human was meant to understand.

When the shadow withdrew, it pulsed with new vitality, glossy like a tick engorged on blood. Bear's body collapsed with the dreadful finality of an emptied vessel, limbs sprawled at angles only the truly dead can achieve.

Magic erupted in panic-bright bursts. Sparrow's firebolt sizzled wild, colliding with River's instinctive shield. The energies canceled each other in a spray of chaotic power that rained harmless sparks across Bear's motionless form. In their horror, not one of them noticed the shadow's departure - present one moment, elsewhere the next, as if distance, like shape, was an illusion.

"Control!" Leaf's voice cut through their terror. "Control your power or you'll kill us all. We make for the village, now. Stay close. Stay calm!"

They'd barely taken twenty steps towards where the path curved ahead, when darkness pooled like spilled ink, writhing into forms that hurt the eye to watch. Three shadow-creatures emerged. The very air seemed to curdle around them.

Snow Bird's creative curses died in his throat. Even Tree Bark's magic flickered uncertainty at his fingers.

"Shield," Leaf commanded, his voice steady though his heart hammered against his ribs. "Together. Now!"

Power flowed from the boys, their magic weaving together like strands of light. Sparrow's contribution wavered, but River steadied him with a touch, their energies merging stronger. The barrier crystallized around them just as the first shadow struck.

The impact sent tremors through their bones. Where the creature touched the shield, frost patterns bloomed and cracked. Another shadow circled overhead, its form stretching like pulled wool, revealing glimpses of something beneath its surface that made Sparrow whimper and Tree Bark's hands shake.

"Seven hells and darkness," Snow Bird breathed, his usual bravado stripped away. "Make it stop!"

The third shadow dove, its shriek drilling into their skulls. Where it met their barrier, Leaf glimpsed faces in its writhing form - dozens of them, mouths stretched in silent screams. The shield trembled.

"I can't" River's voice cracked as his power faltered. ‘It hurts!’

"Hold!" Tree Bark commanded, feeding more energy into the barrier. Blue fire ran like veins through the shield's surface. "Just hold!"

From below, coming from somewhere deep under the ground, came a bellow that shook the entire mountain. The shadows pulled back, momentarily, reacting as if they feared the creature that made that sound.

Leaf and the boys moved back towards the ordeal site as the shadows above began to circle, each pass closer than the last, their forms rippling with barely-contained hunger. Leaf watched them, seeing the pattern in their attack.

"How long?" he asked, eyes fixed on the nearest shadow as it twisted in ways that defied natural law

"Not long." Tree Bark's voice was tight with strain. Sweat froze on his brow despite the power burning through him. "I can maintain, but the others…" He didn't need to finish. Leaf could see Sparrow trembling, River's face drawn with exhaustion, Snow Bird's desperate concentration.

The shadows moved as one now, their forms melding at the edges. Where they touched, the air itself seemed to rot, creating patterns that made Leaf's eyes water and his mind recoil. They were gathering above, pooling their darkness like storm clouds about to break.

A boom of sound came from behind, bringing attention to the mouth of a cave.

"When I say run," he whispered, "drop the shield. Sprint for the cave. Don't look back. Don't stop. Ready?"

The united shadow-form stretched toward them, revealing glimpses of a greater darkness within, something ancient and patient and hungry.

"Now!"

The shield shattered. They ran, snow and magic spraying in their wake. Leaf's heart seized as a tendril of darkness reached for Sparrow. But it recoiled with a shriek that tasted of metal and grave-dirt, unable to follow where they fled. The cave mouth swallowed them into darkness, and the shadows' frustration echoed behind them like the howls of damned souls.

"Seven storms and shadow," Snow Bird spat, testing his grip on his sword. "What were those things?"

"Nothing from our lore," Leaf said, straining to pierce the darkness. "Tree Bark, can you…"

But Sparrow had already conjured light, a pale blue sphere that trembled like its creator. The illumination caught their faces - Tree Bark scanning for threats, River calm despite everything, Snow Bird's hand still tight on his blade.

"Well, we're not going back that way," Tree Bark said, jerking his chin toward the cave mouth. He strode deeper into the cave, power crackling ready at his fingers. "There must be another path."

Leaf followed the boy's movement, catching something too regular in the rock face. "Here. A passage."

Sparrow's light revealed worked stone, walls carved with ornate symbols . Not the clean, practical runes of clan magic -

"Can you read them?" Leaf asked Tree Bark. The boy snorted, sending a spray of sparks across the carvings.

"Read? Magic isn't words or pictures. It's power. You feel it and shape it." He demonstrated, calling blue fire to dance between his fingers.

"This is older than our ways." Leaf traced one symbol. "Other people's magic. Another kind of power."

They pressed deeper, the passage leading them down in a gentle spiral. Sparrow's light caught more symbols, each telling stories none of them could read.

The passage narrowed as they descended deeper, Sparrow's light casting elongated shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. The walls here were different—not rough-hewn stone, but surfaces worked smooth by tools unlike any clan smithy had ever forged.

Leaf ran his callused palm over a section where the rock had been polished to an unnatural sheen. Beneath his fingers, patterns emerged—not carved, but somehow pressed into the very structure of the stone. Concentric whorls broken by jagged lines that eerily mimicked the mountain range above them.

"What manner of magic is this?" Snow Bird muttered, his usual bravado faltering as his eyes traced the strange markings.

River stepped closer, his movements careful in the tight space. "The winter tales speak of the Before People," he said quietly. "Those who walked the mountains when the world was young."

"Old women's stories," Tree Bark dismissed, though his fingers lingered on a spiraling pattern that pulsed faintly blue under his touch.

Leaf crouched where mineral deposits had partially preserved a section of wall. As Sparrow's light steadied to reveal images nearly lost to time—figures taller than any clan warrior, their proportions subtly wrong, their hands crossed across their chests.

And behind them, rendered in pigments whose vibrancy defied the centuries, coiled a massive form. Scales glinted with metallic flecks that still caught the light, wings spread in frozen fury, jaws open in a silent roar of defiance.

"Seven hells," Snow Bird breathed, his curse barely audible. "Is that what I think it is?"

"A dragon," Leaf said quickly. A word from childhood stories meant to frighten young ones into obedience. He rose, brushing dust from his knees, careful to keep his expression neutral despite the chill that traced his spine.

Tree Bark's swagger returned as he pushed ahead. "Doesn't matter what fairy tales someone painted on the walls," he declared, though Leaf noted how the boy's eyes kept darting back to the ancient image, his usual confidence brittle as thin ice. "We go forward!"

The passage ended at a door that seemed to swallow their light. No handle marred its ancient wood, but symbols like those in the passage crawled across its surface - simpler here, more primal.

"We shouldn’t open it," Sparrow said. "It must be sealed for a reason…"

"We have no choice," Leaf cut him off. "We go forward." He turned to Tree Bark. "Your power. Can you break the seal?"

Tree Bark was already moving forward. "Stand back," he commanded, and for a moment he sounded like the warrior he might become. "This won't take long."

The door shuddered under Tree Bark's assault. Ancient wood groaned. Light blazed through appearing cracks, bright as captured stars. The door swung open.

They stepped through one by one, Leaf first, into light that had no source and a chamber that had waited ages for their arrival. Behind them, the door sealed itself with a sound like a closing tomb

The chamber stretched high above. Leaf’s neck cracked as he looked up, up, up, to the ceiling lost somewhere in forever. There was a second level to the chamber, and large steps, but these were on the opposite side. In the middle, between two pillars thick as old-growth trees stood... something. Not air. Not water. Colors that hurt to look at directly, colors he'd never seen before, colors he would never forget.

"What manner of magic is this?" Said River. Through this curtain in space, shapes moved like shadows in deep water, too strange to focus on directly.

Leaf picked up a loose stone and tossed it through the shimmer. No sound of impact followed. The stone simply... ceased to be.

"A portal." He straightened, feeling the power radiating from it . "to a place I have no wish to go!"

Tree Bark stepped closer, his own magic responding to the portal's energy, making blue sparks dance around his hands. "Then we close it." His voice held the same certainty he'd shown in training, when a problem could be solved with pure power alone.

"How?" River asked, but Tree Bark was already striding forward.

"I can feel it." He raised his hands toward the curtain of light. "The power... it's like a door. Gods, I can taste it. It's begging to be closed"

"Tree Bark, wait!" Leaf started forward, but the boy had already plunged his hands into the portal's surface.

Energy exploded through the chamber. colors bleeding into each other like madness made visible. A bolt of pure power shot past Leaf's head, slamming into the wall behind him, making a heavy plume of dust.

"You're making it worse!" Leaf shouted above the portal's rising whine.

"I can do this!" Tree Bark's voice strained with effort. "I can feel the energy pouring into me. Just a little more…"

But Leaf could see the truth. The portal wasn't closing - it was growing, feeding on Tree Bark's power like a hungry beast. He lunged forward, grabbing the boy's shoulders. Raw energy surged through him, a pain so intense it stole his breath. But beneath the pain was something else - a sensation of strength, of possibility, of power answering power.

"Can you feel it?" Tree Bark cried out. "We're draining it dry!" For a moment, Leaf almost believed. The power flowing through them felt like triumph, like victory, like everything he'd ever wanted. But through clearing vision, he saw the portal expanding, ever hungry for more.

"No!" He threw himself backward, dragging Tree Bark with him. They crashed to the ground as another bolt of energy scorched the air where they'd stood. "It was feeding on us, Tree Bark. Using our power to grow stronger."

Tree Bark scrambled to his feet, face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "No, I felt it weakening! I could have closed it! I can…" His words cut off as he reached toward the portal again, but this time something reached back. A tendril of darkness emerged from the shimmer, solid as smoke, real as nightmare. Tree Bark's hand closed around it like catching a snake.

"See?" His laugh held an edge of hysteria. "I can control them now!"

The tendril of darkness writhed in Tree Bark's grip, its surface roiling like storm clouds. The boy's laugh echoed off ancient stone as he raised his other hand, fingers twisting in a gesture that made the shadow-thing contort and stretch.

"Power!" His voice cracked with wild joy. "Real power, Leaf. Not just flames and sparks." The shadow creature whimpered - a sound that scraped against their bones. "Watch this!"

Tree Bark's hands moved in opposite directions. The shadow-thing shrieked as he tore it apart, its essence dissipating like mist in sunlight. The boy's eyes gleamed fever-bright in the portal's writhing light.

"You see?" He turned to Leaf, power crackling around him like a storm made flesh. "Use what's flowing through you. Show them when you return, and they will never deny you your name again."

Leaf felt it then - that resonance from touching the portal, a wellspring of possibility humming beneath his skin. His fingers contained potential. One gesture, one word, and he could finally…

"This isn't the time," he managed, resisting the power which sang to him like a siren's call.

"I saw you try the flame-calling." Tree Bark's voice softened, almost gentle. "This simple trick you could now do with a blink of an eye."

Leaf raised his hand, feeling energy surge through him, natural as breathing. The incantation rose to his lips, power building like a wave about to break.

And died there, trapped behind fifteen years of failure.

"I can't." The admission choked him.

"Impotent!" Tree Bark spat, rising into the air on threads of stolen power. "There can be no doubt now who is strongest among us. You'll go back to working with the axe, while I..." His laugh echoed off the chamber's heights. "I will lead our people into a new age!"

Snow Bird whooped in agreement. River's face showed uncertainty, but he stepped toward Tree Bark all the same. Only Sparrow remained by Leaf's side.

Then came a sound that shook the very foundations of the earth

A deep, resonant bellow that made the portal's light flicker and cast wild shadows across the ancient steps. The air grew thick and heavy, as if the chamber itself held its breath. Through the portal's shimmer emerged something that turned Tree Bark's stolen power to nothing more than a child's trick.

Two massive claws gripped the threshold between worlds, each talon longer than a warrior's sword. The head emerged first - a thing of nightmare mounted on a serpentine neck, its skull ridged with spines sharp as spears. Steam curled from between teeth like daggers as its nostrils flared, tasting their fear in the air. Scales the color of old blood caught the portal's light as more of the beast pushed through, muscle rippling beneath natural armor no blade could pierce. The beast moved with terrible purpose, each motion speaking of power absolute and ancient.

Its wings unfurled in the chamber like dark sails, their membranes so black that when they spread to their full span, even the second level's arches were cast in shadow.

Those eyes, though - they held more than mere animal hunger. Intelligence burned in them, cruel and calculating as they fixed upon Tree Bark, still hovering on his stolen power. The dragon's head swung level with the second level of the chamber, and seeing Tree Bark, it lunged. The boy barely twisted aside as jaws that could swallow him whole snapped shut on empty air. Ancient stone cracked as the beast crashed into the stairs, chunks of ancient stone raining down. Tree Bark plummeted. He hit the chamber floor hard, rolling away from the cascade of rubble. The beast's head snapped toward the movement, nostrils flaring at the scent of fear and wounded pride.

The boy was already backing away, stolen power crackling around him like a fraying cloak.

"Tree Bark!" Leaf called. "Stand with us!"

But the young man's face, usually so full of arrogance, had broken to reveal the frightened boy beneath. Without a word, he turned and fled, levitating up to the second level in desperate bursts of stolen power.

"Coward!" Snow Bird spat, but fear threaded through his curse.

"Shield!" Leaf's voice cut through the chaos. "Together, Like before!"

Sparrow's trembling hands rose first, a faint blue barrier materializing. River's power flowed into it like water finding cracks, strengthening the weakest points. Snow Bird's contribution came with a creative string of curses, but his magic held true. The dragon's chest swelled obscenely. Something inside it glowed orange-white, visible through scales gone suddenly translucent. The stink hit them first—like forge-fire and rotting meat. Heat-shimmer distorted the air around its jaws as they parted

"Hold!" he shouted, as much prayer as command. "Whatever happens, hold!"

The inferno struck their shield like a tide of liquid fire. Heat pressed against them, so intense that Leaf could feel his skin tighten, and could hear Sparrow's whimper of effort beside him.

When the flames died, their shield was paper-thin but holding. The dragon drew breath for another assault. Fire erupted from the beast's maw in a tide of white-hot death. Sparrow's magic shattered first - Leaf felt it go, like ice cracking in spring thaw. The smallest boy's desperate whisper of "I can't…" was lost beneath the dragon's roar as he crumpled.

River caught him before he hit the stone, but the effort cost him Still, he held his position, feet planted wide, trying to feed what strength remained into their failing shield. When his knees finally buckled, his face showed not fear but quiet acceptance.

Snow Bird lasted longer than Leaf would have expected. The boy's creative curses became a steady stream of consciousness, each more inventive than the last, as if he could ward off defeat through sheer force of profanity. "Seven storms and shadow's teeth—" he gasped, then "Winter's black bloody—" before his voice failed. His final effort sent a surge of wild power through their shield, but it wasn't enough. He fell with one last profane word.

Three boys had fallen and above them, he could see Tree Bark watching from the shadows of the second level, face twisted with shame and fear. Leaf was on his own, yet the shield remained! The combined effort of the boys, their magic, had transferred into him. The dragon drew another breath, its chest swelling with promised devastation. Leaf stood alone before the dragon's fury. But in that moment of desperate clarity, he understood what he must do. As the beast drew breath for its final attack, he let his hands fall to his sides. The shield collapsed. Leaf stepped forward as the dragon's flames engulfed him, and for a moment the world became nothing but fire and pain… and possibility.

He didn't try to block the flames. Instead, he let them flow into him, through him, remembering how he'd channeled Tree Bark's wild magic. The heat built in his chest like a sword being forged, like fifteen years of failure being burned away. His hands moved without thought, gathering the dragon's fire, compressing it, reshaping it into something that answered to his will alone.

Then he thrust his right hand forward, and all that gathered power erupted back toward the beast. A lance of pure energy, born of dragon's flame and human defiance, tore through scales that no normal weapon could pierce. The dragon's roar of pain shook loose more stone from the ruined stairs. The dragon reared back, black blood pouring from the massive wound that had torn through scale and muscle. The injury split its chest like a grotesque second mouth, exposing flesh that had never known mortal steel. Its wings thrashed against the chamber walls with desperate strength, each impact sending chunks of ancient stone crashing down. Those eyes, though - they never left Leaf, and in them burned something beyond pain or savage rage. This was the cold fury of an immortal thing learning it could die.

The beast's strike came without warning, its spiked tail scything across the chamber floor with enough force to shatter stone. Leaf dove and rolled, feeling the wind of its passage stir his hair. His muscles screamed in protest, the borrowed power in his blood burning hot. Behind him, he heard Sparrow's ragged breathing, felt River trying to rise on trembling legs, caught Snow Bird's whispered prayers.

Blood-slick scales scraped stone as the dragon gathered itself, wounded muscle bunching beneath its armored hide. Its head darted forward like a striking serpent, jaws spread wide enough to swallow a man whole. Teeth longer than daggers gleamed in the portal's writhing light. Leaf brought up his sword, catching the strike between massive fangs. The impact drove him to one knee, the shock of it running up his arms like hammer blows.

This close, he could count every battle scar on the beast's ancient scales, see the intelligence burning in eyes deep as frozen lakes. Steam curled from between its teeth, carrying the charnel-house stench of its breath. In those depthless pupils, Leaf saw his own death reflected a thousand times.

Power still coursed through him - the boys' combined magic, the stolen flame - but the dragon was still too strong. The massive head pressed down, muscles rippling along its serpentine neck. Leaf felt his arms beginning to give as tons of prehistoric fury bore down upon him. The sword's steel screamed against dragon-teeth, a sound like the death of hope.

His grip slipped. The dragon's jaws began to close, and Leaf could see the fire building in its throat, promising a death of heat and pain and…

Then something struck the beast's head - a bolt of magic that sent blue fire cascading across its scales. The dragon's jaws opened wide in a roar of pain and surprise.

"Fight, you cowards!" Tree Bark's voice rang from above, thick with shame transformed to desperate courage. "Fight!"

The dragon's massive head snapped forward again, but this time Leaf saw the pattern in its rage - each strike slower, heavier, the wound in its chest bleeding darkness onto ancient stone. His arms trembled as he brought the sword up to deflect another blow, the blade ringing against teeth that could shear steel.

"Leaf!" Tree Bark's voice cut through the chaos. Not from above now, but beside him. The boy's boots scraped stone as he took up position, his own sword gleaming with magical power.

"No sparks, just substance.," he said, and in those words lay both apology and promise.

Behind them, Sparrow stirred first, then River, their magic flickering back to life like embers catching wind. Snow Bird groaned something that might have been a curse or a prayer as he pushed himself to his knees.

The dragon gathered itself for another strike, wings scraping the chamber walls. Leaf felt Tree Bark shift beside him, matching his stance as naturally as if they'd trained together for years. The beast was wounded, desperate, but in that desperation lay their chance.

"Now!" Leaf's blade swept left as Tree Bark's cut right, their movements mirror-perfect. Blue fire ran along both edges, their magics twining together as one.

The dragon's head darted between them - but that was what they'd wanted. Its dodge brought the wound in its chest forward, scales already parted, flesh already torn.

"Light it up!" Tree Bark shouted, and the chamber exploded with power as three exhausted boys found their last reserves of strength. Firebolts struck the beast's wound like a butcher's hammer, each impact driving it further off balance. Sparrow's aim proved truest, his magic no longer hesitant but precise. River's power flowed in continuous streams while Snow Bird's wild bursts kept the dragon's head twisting between threats.

Leaf and Tree Bark struck as one, their blades finding the wound from opposite sides, mortal steel and borrowed power sinking deep into supposedly immortal flesh. The dragon's roar shook their bones, but they held, they pushed, they drove their swords up and in until they felt something ancient and terrible give way.

The beast died, not with a final roar, but a long, empty exhale.

The dragon's fall shook the chamber one final time. Behind its massive corpse, the portal's light guttered and twisted, as if wounded by the death of something so ancient. Tree Bark stepped forward, head tilted as he studied the writhing energies.

"The barrier between worlds," he said softly, his earlier arrogance replaced by something closer to wonder. "It's failing."

As if in answer, cracks of darkness spread through the portal's surface. The chamber trembled as reality tried to seal itself, stone groaning under the strain. Leaf grabbed Tree Bark's shoulder, pulling him back as the first chunks of ceiling began to fall.

"Time to leave," he said, and felt the boy's quick nod. No more words were needed.

River helped Sparrow to his feet while Snow Bird stumbled up cursing under his breath. They made their way through the tunnels, Tree Bark's magic lighting their path, each boy unconsciously matching the steady rhythm Leaf set. The runes on the walls seemed to dim as they passed, as if some ancient power was fading from the world.

They emerged into bitter wind and swirling snow, the cave's darkness giving way to a different kind of blindness. Through the white veil, torches bloomed, casting blue-tinged shadows as warriors approached. Their hands still glowed with recently spent magic - border guards, their armor marked with runes of vigilance and protection. These men had left their posts to search, a measure of how seriously the clan took its sons' safety.

The lead warrior, his beard rimed with ice, faltered mid-stride when he recognized Leaf. Then his eyes moved over the group, counting. Recounting. His face grew grave as understanding dawned.

"The boys," Leaf said quietly, the weight of Bear's absence heavy in his voice. "Four survived."

Sparrow broke first, his usual hesitation forgotten as he ran to his father. The gruff warrior's arms engulfed his son, and Leaf saw the boy's shoulders shake with the release of everything they'd witnessed - triumph and terror, victory and loss.

River approached his uncle with grace masking bone-deep exhaustion. He bowed formally, but when he straightened, his eyes held both new strength and deep sorrow. His uncle gripped his shoulder in silent understanding.

"Seven storms and shadow, you should have seen it!" Snow Bird's voice did not stop for an instant, as he tried to fill the heavy silence with his tale. His father didn't chide him for the cursing, seeing how the boy's hands trembled as they painted pictures in the air. "The dragon... and Bear, he... but then Leaf..."

Through it all, Tree Bark remained at Leaf's side, his usual swagger replaced by something quieter, more grounded. When the warriors asked about Bear, about the sounds they'd heard echoing through the mountains, the boy who normally dominated every conversation stayed silent. His shoulder brushed Leaf's arm - not seeking protection now, but sharing the burden of what they'd witnessed.

One of the warriors stepped forward, a man Leaf recognized as Bear's father.

‘It was an honor to know your son. I wish…’No further words passed between them, but Leaf met his gaze steadily, accepting the weight of that grief. Tomorrow there will be ceremonies, explanations, decisions about the cave and its dangers. The questions would come later, Leaf knew. The clan would want to know what happened in those ancient depths. But for now, watching Tree Bark's steadfast presence beside him, seeing the new strength in Sparrow's stance, the fresh purpose in River's movements, the honest wonder beneath Snow Bird's bluster - that was answer enough.

-

The Elder's visit came as Leaf was splitting wood in the dying light. Some habits, he had discovered, revealed their true worth only after long practice.

"The boys speak highly of you," Torvald said, watching the axe rise and fall in its perfect arc. "Though they say little of what actually happened beneath the mountain."

Leaf set another log on the splitting block, his fingers finding the hairline cracks where the wood would yield most easily. "They faced their fears. Found their strength." The axe fell, wood parting with that satisfying sound he'd come to love over fifteen years. "That's what matters."

"And Tree Bark?" The Elder's voice carried no judgment, only genuine curiosity.

Leaf's hands stilled for just a moment, remembering the boy's face as they'd stood together against the dragon. "Proved himself a warrior." Another log, another clean strike. "In the end."

Torvald nodded, weathered fingers tracing the worn grooves of his staff where generations of clan leaders had channeled their power. Light caught the blue spark that answered his touch.

"The ceremony is tomorrow," he said. "Bear will be honored with the full rites of a fallen warrior, and the others will receive their names." His eyes, still sharp despite the years that had carved lines around them, met Leaf's. "The Council has agreed that you should join this family of boys and receive your name alongside them."

Leaf rested the axe against the block, its handle smooth from years in his grip, its blade worn thinner by countless sharpening stones. In the training yard beyond the clan hall, he could see Tree Bark moving through sword forms with Sparrow and River. Their movements had changed – more grounded, more deliberate. Even from this distance, he could see how Sparrow no longer flinched at shadows, how River's usual flow had found a new purpose.

Something had changed in that chamber beneath the mountain. Not just in them, but in him. Power hummed in his blood now, as if it had always been there, waiting for him to stop chasing it and simply become what he already was.

"The name I want," he said carefully, feeling the weight of each word, "isn't one that can be given. It's one I've earned, stroke by stroke, log by log. Day by day."

A slow smile crossed the Elder's face, as if hearing exactly what he'd hoped. "Then speak it," he said, and for the first time added: "warrior of the clan."

Leaf straightened, feeling his shoulders square without conscious thought. Between his fingers, the faintest blue spark danced – not wild like Tree Bark's displays, but controlled, purposeful, as measured as the swing of his axe. "Oak," he said, and felt the rightness of it settle into his bones. "Strong and steady."

Torvald's nod held the weight of fifteen years of waiting. He turned to go, then paused, his gaze taking in the man who had finally found his name on his own terms

"Welcome home, Warrior Oak," he said softly. "Welcome home."

The Elder's footsteps faded into evening silence. Oak – no longer Leaf – set another log on the block. The axe rose, catching the day's last light, a glint of blue tracing its edge. When it fell, the wood split clean, as it always had. Some things, he had learned, were worth keeping. Others, worth discovering anew.

The next day, at the naming ceremony, Oak did not stand with the boys, or even alongside the men of the village. He stood by Sylvia’s side, near the Elder, his position in the clan secure.

Tree Bark saw him and raised a hand in friendship – warrior to warrior, equal to equal at last.

The End.

---

Dear friends, I hope you enjoyed this story. The original inspiration was the memory of a gamebook from my youth called “Sagard The Barbarian - The Ice Dragon” In it, you play as Sagard, a 16 year old barbarian boy on an ‘Ordeal of Courage’ to become a fully fledged warrior. Sound familiar? Although the idea is the same, this story is my own.