Liam stood in the secluded alcove, his breath misting in the cold air. He glanced around nervously,  he was alone. The victory over Torin was exhilarating, but it  also been a close call. He knew he''d been lucky, and luck wouldn''t carry him through the rest of the tournament. He needed an edge.


    He focused  on his boots. Van''s technique was , but  enough. He needed something more, something different. He closed his eyes, remembering the chilling surge of power in the crypt, the feeling of ice forming under his skin. Could he control that power and use it to his advantage?


    He channeled his thoughts, focusing on the coldness, imagining a thin layer of ice forming on the soles of his boots. He felt a familiar tingling sensation, and a faint, almost imperceptible frost  It worked... sort of.


    He tried to take a step, and nearly slipped, flailing his arms wildly to regain his balance. The ice was too uneven, too unpredictable. He  again, focusing on creating a thinner, more controlled layer. It was excruciatingly difficult, like  water in his cupped hands. The ice flickered, forming and melting in patches.


    After what felt like an eternity, he managed to create  layer of frost on the soles of his boots. He took a tentative step, then another. He was faster, definitely faster, but the ice made his movements slippery and unpredictable. He needed to practice, to learn how to control this , unstable element.


    As he struggled to maintain his balance, he heard footsteps approaching. He quickly scraped the ice off his boots, his heart pounding in his chest.


    Gareth, Anya, and Freya entered the alcove. Their expressions were  curiosity and annoyance.


    "What are you doing, Liam?" Anya asked. Her eyes narrowed. "Sneaking off to practice your… dancing?"


    Liam forced a smile.  thinking," he said, trying to sound casual. "Trying to figure out how to… improve."


    Gareth snorted. "By hiding in a dusty corner of the keep? You''re even stranger than I thought."


    "Just leave him alone," Freya said, rolling her eyes. "He''s obviously lost it."


    The siblings left, leaving Liam alone  He knew he couldn''t let them see him practicing his magic. They wouldn''t understand. They would probably tell Father, and then… he didn''t even want to think about it.


    Later that day, as Liam  through the keep, he encountered Kael Dergovia. The Dergovia heir  against a wall, polishing his sword with a practiced ease that made Liam''s stomach churn.


    "Still alive, Volgunder?" Kael asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I must admit, I was surprised you  your first match. Pure luck, I assure you."


    Liam clenched his fists, trying to control his anger. "Luck had nothing to do with it," he said, his voice tight.


    Kael raised an eyebrow, a mocking  his lips. "Oh really?  you''ll enlighten me. What brilliant strategy did you employ to defeat… what was his name? Torin? "A truly formidable opponent, I''m sure." He chuckled, then effortlessly twirled his sword, the blade flashing in the light.


    Liam swallowed, his mouth dry. He wanted to retort, to tell Kael that he was wrong, that he  skill, but the words wouldn''t come. Kael''s confidence, his sheer presence, was intimidating.


    "See you in the arena, Volgunder," Kael said, his smile widening. "Unless, of course, you decide to run away and hide. I wouldn''t blame you."


    With a final, dismissive glance, Kael turned and walked away, leaving Liam seething with frustration and  dread.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The next day, Liam  in the arena once more, facing his second-round opponent. This time, it was Serin Pondoria, a tall, lithe young woman with a confident smirk and a 2-star ranking displayed on her tunic. The Pondoria were known for their spear work, and Serin held hers with an  that spoke of years of training.


    The signal was given, and the match began. Serin immediately took the offensive, her spear a blur of motion. Liam found himself on the defensive, struggling to keep up with her attacks. Her reach was , and he couldn''t  get close enough to land a blow.


    Van''s technique,  practiced so diligently, proved useless. It was designed for opponents who relied on strength,  powerful blows that could be redirected. Serin was different. She was fast, agile, and her spear kept Liam at bay, preventing him from using


    Liam took a glancing blow to his arm, a sharp, stinging pain that made him stumble. He realized he was  He was outmatched, outskilled, and outmaneuvered. He needed to do something, something desperate.


    He remembered his practice in the alcove, the feeling of ice forming on his boots. It was a risky move, a desperate gamble, but he had no other choice.


    He focused his mind, channeling the coldness he  felt in the crypt. He imagined a thin layer of ice forming on the soles of his boots, just enough to give him a burst of speed. He felt the familiar tingling sensation, and a faint frost appeared.


    Serin lunged forward,  Liam''s chest. It was a powerful, well-aimed thrust that he  block. But, with the ice on his boots, he was  fast enough to dodge. He felt the spear graze his tunic, missing his flesh by a hair''s breadth.


    Emboldened by his near miss, Liam decided to  all-in on his reckless plan. He focused again, trying to extend the ice to cover not just his boots, but his knees as well. It was much , the magic resisting his clumsy attempts to control it. He felt a wave of dizziness, and he nearly lost his balance.


    Serin, seeing her opportunity,  She thrust again, aiming at Liam''s exposed side. Liam knew he couldn''t dodge conventionally. He had one chance.


    He dropped to his knees, the (uneven, barely-there) ice on his knees allowing him to slide forward, under Serin''s spear. At the same time, he swung his sword sideways, aiming not at Serin herself, but at the shaft of her spear.


    From the stands, Arthur Volgunder watched  He had been distracted, his mind preoccupied with reports from the East, but  caught his attention. For a split second, he thought he had seen... something. A shimmer of blue, a flash of ice on Liam''s knees as he slid. But it was  so quickly, he dismissed it as a trick of the light, a figment of his imagination. Magic? Impossible. The Volgunders were swordsmen, not mages. It had to be a desperate, clumsy maneuver, nothing more.


    The sudden, unexpected slide caught Serin off guard. Liam''s sword connected with the spear shaft, not  to knock it off course. Serin stumbled, losing her balance. Liam, still sliding, managed to scramble to his feet and, with a desperate lunge, knocked the spear from Serin''s grasp.


    Silence descended upon the arena. Then, slowly, a murmur of disbelief rippled through the crowd, followed by hesitant applause. Liam  won again. But it was a victory that felt even less deserved, even more  on luck than his first.


    Gareth, Anya, and Freya stared at Liam, their expressions unreadable. Kael Dergovia, however, watched with a flicker of something  interesting in his eyes, though his mouth was still set on a sneer.


    That night, Liam  He tossed and turned, his mind racing. The fight with Serin  too close, too  on a desperate gamble. He couldn''t  on luck and uncontrolled bursts of magic. He needed to understand his power, to master it.


    And then, a dream came.


    It was a fragmented, chaotic dream, filled with swirling images and disembodied voices. He saw Kael Volgunder, the founder of his family, but his face was  his features indistinct. He heard a voice, ancient and powerful, whispering about "dragon''s blood" and "the price of power." He  images of ice and fire, intertwined, locked in an eternal struggle. He saw a  engulfed in  flames and frost. He felt a surge of fear, but also a strange, exhilarating sense of power.


    He woke up  his heart pounding, his body covered in cold sweat. The dream lingered in his mind, a jumble of confusing symbols and cryptic messages. What did it mean? Was it a warning? A prophecy? Was it connected to his magic,  He didn''t know, but the dream left him with a growing sense of unease and  desperate need for answers. He looked at his hands, and then at the faintly glowing circle on his back. The pieces were there, scattered and fragmented, but they  to form a picture, a picture that was both terrifying and strangely compelling.