The Gate stood at the northern edge of Mount Hwa, half-buried in old stone and shadow. Unlike the ornate pavilions of our sect, it was raw—a monolith carved from black granite, with no embellishments, only age.
We gathered there just past dawn. Dozens of third-generation disciples stood in silent rows. So-Yeon to my right, Dan to my left. I could feel their tension, not in their words but in the way they stood—still, ready.
Elder Sun stepped forward. Behind him, the Head Elder of Mount Hwa—Grandmaster Jo—watched with folded arms and unreadable eyes.
"This is the First Gate," Elder Sun said. His voice carried through the still air. "To walk through it is to offer yourself to the mountain. No titles. No protections. Only what you've built within. There will be four trials. You may retreat after any—but you may not return."
He looked at each of us. When his gaze passed over me, he paused, just for a breath. Then he turned.
The gate opened with a deep grinding sound, revealing a narrow stone path shrouded in mist.
We walked in single file. The air shifted with each step, as though the mountain watched.
The first chamber was a wide arena of stone, lit by unseen light. At its center: a single sword. Plain. Upright in the ground.
"The Trial of Steel," a voice echoed.
I stepped forward when my name was called.
Before I could draw my sword, a figure formed from mist—my own size, my own face, my own weapon. It looked at me without expression.
Then it moved.
Fast. Heavy.
I raised my blade to meet its swing, but the impact rattled my bones. It didn't fight like me—it fought like the version of me I was training to become.
I couldn't overpower it. Not yet. But I remembered the river. The flow.
I shifted. Deflected. Let its weight pass me, step by step, guiding it off balance.
We circled, steel clashing like thunder. But I stopped forcing. I followed the rhythm.
And at last—
I found the gap.
A strike. Clean. The mist-figure froze, then dissolved like smoke.
I stood there, chest heaving. My arms burned. My blade trembled.
But I had passed.
The chamber let out a tone like a deep bell, and a door opened on the far wall.
So-Yeon entered after me, her own shadow waiting. Dan came not long after, wiping blood from his lip and grinning like a fool.
"That was only one?" he muttered.
"Three more," So-Yeon said, steady.
We pressed on.
Whatever came next—qi, movement, endurance—we would meet it.
Together, or alone.
But we had stepped through the gate.
And the path could only move forward.