The Road to Ironwood
The road to Ironwood Academy wound like a serpent through the foothills — a narrow path carved between towering cliffs and ancient forests.
Jeremy and Talon walked it together. Along the way they both kept quiet as they were lost in their thoughts. For Talon he had always longed for the day he would escort his child to their first day of academy like his father walked beside him. Injury and misfortune had stolen that dream he kept buried deep in his heart. That was before Jermey came into his life. He wondered if he had been a good foster father during this time.
If he had taught him enough or prepared him for whats to come like his father did before him. Suddenly, an unfamiliar feeling crept in, he was afraid….. afraid of failing Jermey. He realized that this little boy had brought more than laughter into their home, he brought love. Talon realized he loved him as a son and blood couldn't even make them closer.
Merina had seen the pair off at dawn, standing the on the porch in the misty morning light. She kissed both Jermy and Talon on the cheek and handed him a simple cloth-wrapped bundle — a sturdy uniform, a few provisions, and a short letter sealed in red wax.
Merina had hugged him fiercely, whispering against his hair, "Strength isn't just muscles, boy. It's how you carry your heart. Do well my child"
Jeremy felt a long lost feeling as he looked into her eyes. The care and love of a mother. He responded "I will" and left the porch and walked away with Talon. An itch gnawing at his brain kept making him look back, across the field he saw Merina's figure straight as an arrow still watching them depart. He didnt know what took over him but he suddenly turned around legs pumping as he ran back to the porch.
Face flushed from the run concern etched in Merina's face. " I forgot to give this to you" Jermey said as he fumbled to take out the figurine he carved for her. Slowly steadying his breathing he went on to say. "I will leave here as a boy and return a man, but I will always be your son. Take care of yourself while I'm gone Mom." Mom, a word he never thought he would utter again jumped effortlessly of his tongue and it felt right, it felt true. Merina, who had always been composed, through battles, through healing those on the brink of death had never cried her upbrinning by habit forced her not to.
Yet in this moment as the cold air circled the two she cried as she reached out to embrace him. "My sweet son" she said through flowing tears, "I will take care of myself and you do the same" She gathered her composure and cleared her throat and said as sternly as she could muster " Train well, be kind and bring your household honor. Now hurry don't keep your father waiting". Jermey gave her a kiss on the cheek and took off running to catch up with Talon. He carried their hopes in his heart and the Eversoul Stone at his chest.
The hours passed in silence, broken only by the crunch of his boots on gravel and the distant cry of hawks circling overhead.
As he walked next to Talon on the road doubts crept in.
What if I fail?
What if I'm not enough?
He tightened his grip on the Eversoul Stone.
The Root of Endurance pulsed faintly under his skin, a quiet reminder:
You survived worse.
You are more.
At midday, the road crested a final ridge — and Ironwood Academy came into view.
Jeremy stopped, breath caught in his throat.
The Academy was a fortress-city built into the mountainside, its walls of dark stone towering above the valley. Banners snapped in the wind — a silver tree on a black field — and far above, gleaming towers pierced the sky.
It looked ancient. Enduring.
Like it had always been here... and always would be.
Jeremy took his first step toward it, heart hammering.
The Gates of Ironwood
The gates of Ironwood Academy loomed ahead, carved from black oak older than memory and reinforced with veins of shimmering gold. The path leading up to them was worn smooth by the footsteps of generations of cultivators. Jeremy Gray stood before them, clutching the strap of his battered pack. The sheer size of the gates, of the walls, of the academy itself made his stomach twist. It was like staring up at a mountain and knowing you had to climb it barefoot.
Talon rested a hand on Jeremy's shoulder. "Remember, lad," he said, voice low and firm, "the tree that bends in the storm does not break."
Jeremy nodded, though fear gnawed at the edges of his mind. Around them, other new students filed in—heirs of great clans, children with rich robes and gleaming weapons strapped to their backs. He felt small among them, a weed in a garden of lions.
The guards at the gate barely glanced at him as he passed through, their attention focused on the stream of more "promising" recruits. Jeremy caught glimpses of the courtyard beyond—a wide expanse of stone where senior students sparred with flashes of qi and magic that made the air tremble.
Talon squeezed his shoulder once more. "Make your mark."
And then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd and the future Jeremy wasn't sure he belonged to.
A long line of would-be students waited before the main gates, each carrying a parchment similar to Jeremy's own.
Boys and girls of all ages — most older and larger than him — shifted nervously, adjusted weapons at their hips, whispered to each other.
Jeremy took his place at the end of the line.
He felt their eyes on him almost immediately.
Small.
Quiet.
Unfamiliar.
A perfect target.
He kept his gaze low, shoulders straight.
The gates opened with a groaning roar.
A figure strode forward — a woman in dark crimson armor, her black hair braided tight against her head.
She held a long, wickedly curved glaive across her back.
"Candidates!" she barked, voice carrying easily over the crowd. "I am Instructor Vale. Inside these gates, you will either earn your place... or be turned away."
Her gaze swept over them — and when it passed over Jeremy, it lingered a heartbeat longer.
He held her gaze without flinching.
Vale's lips twitched — not a smile, but an acknowledgment.
"Strength is all that matters here," she said. "Not bloodlines. Not gold. Not luck."
She pointed to the massive ironwood doors behind her.
"Pass the assessment, and you enter. Fail — and you leave. Broken or whole, it is your choice." Following the assessment and dorm assignments parents will be able to say their finally farewell to the students or take the failures away.
Without another word, she turned and marched inside.
The candidates surged forward.
Jeremy followed.
The Dragonbone Pillar
The first chamber inside the gates was vast — a circular hall with a ceiling lost in shadow.
In the center stood a single object: the Dragonbone Pillar.
A towering column of black stone, veined with silver, humming with latent energy.
This was the test.
One by one, candidates stepped forward.
They placed their palms against the pillar, channeled their qi — and the pillar responded, flaring with glowing glyphs.
The more glyphs, the stronger the talent.
Some candidates lit three glyphs, four, even five.
Whispers spread:
"He's already at Bronze Mid-Tier!"
"That one's a natural caster!"
Jeremy watched quietly, heart pounding.
When his turn came, he stepped forward without hesitation.
He placed his hand against the cold stone.
Closed his eyes.
Breathe.
Center.
Focus.
He drew on the qi inside him — the Root of Endurance — and pushed it outward.
For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened.
Then — a single glyph, low and flickering, lit up.
The crowd tittered.
"Only one?"
"Pathetic."
"How did he even get an invitation?"
Jeremy withdrew his hand, face burning but shoulders unbowed.
Instructor Vale said nothing — only gestured him to the side.
The test was not over.
The Trial of Steel
Beyond the pillar lay the second trial.
Rows of blunt training weapons lined the walls — swords, spears, staffs.
In the center of the arena, a group of older students waited — observers, tasked with testing the candidates through combat.
Vale's voice rang out:
"You have one minute. Choose your weapon. Survive three minutes against an opponent. That is all."
One by one, candidates scrambled for weapons.
Jeremy approached the racks slowly, thinking.
Speed. Reach. Flexibility.
His hand closed around a simple quarterstaff.
Wood — plain, worn smooth from years of use.
No gleaming blade.
No deadly edge.
But it felt... right.
Balanced.
Alive in his hands.
He turned just as his opponent stepped forward.
A boy, tall and broad, with short-cropped blond hair and a cruel smile.
Jeremy recognized the type instantly.
His name was Keller and by the way he spoke and moved he was eerily similar to the Brant from his past life.
Brant — the ringleader of the football team.
The boy who had laughed while Jeremy drowned.
Except now, this Brant or Keller to be more accurate was older, stronger — a Bronze Mid-Tier cultivator — and very clearly enjoying himself.
"Well, well," Keller drawled. "Who is the weakling we have here?"
Jeremy's heart twisted — but he stood firm.
Keller twirled his ironwood training sword lazily.
"This'll be quick."
Vale raised a hand.
"Begin."
Three Minutes
Keller moved first — a brutal overhead swing aimed to break Jeremy's staff — and maybe his skull.
Jeremy sidestepped, the movement smooth and economical, and rapped Keller's wrist with the end of the staff.
Keller hissed — more in anger than pain.
"You little—"
He came in harder, faster — but Jeremy wasn't the same boy who had once been bullied by his peers.
He remembered Talon's lessons.
Center.
Balance.
Breath.
He deflected Keller's strikes, turned them aside, used Keller's own momentum against him.
Not trying to win.
Just to survive.
Keller grew sloppier with each miss, his frustration mounting.
Jeremy's arms ached, his legs trembled — but he held on.
Minute one passed.
Then two.
At two minutes thirty, Keller feinted left — then shoulder-charged straight into Jeremy's chest, knocking the air from his lungs.
Jeremy hit the ground hard, vision swimming.
Keller loomed over him, grinning.
"Stay down, freak."
Jeremy gritted his teeth.
The Root of Endurance flared.
He rose.
Keller's eyes widened — just a flicker.
Jeremy spun the staff low, sweeping Keller's legs.
Keller fell with a thunderous crash.
The gong sounded.
Three minutes.
Jeremy stood, panting, battered but unbroken.
The hall was silent.
Vale's eyes glittered with something close to approval.
She nodded once.
"You pass."
Dorm 20
Later, after the trials, Jeremy was assigned to Iron Class Dorm 20 Pod 10.
The lowest-ranked dorm.
Broken gear.
Tattered banners.
Dusty floors.
The place for those who barely scraped by.
The "weeds" in the garden of lions.
Jeremy didn't care.
He sat on his narrow bunk, staff resting against the wall, and stared out the window at the twin moons rising.
He clutched the Eversoul Stone against his chest.
He whispered:
"You'll all see.
One day, the Lonely One will stand above you all."
Outside, the academy slept.
Inside Jeremy Gray, a new fire kindled.
He was not finished.
He was just beginning.
And nothing — not a fake Brant, not scorn, not fear — would stop him.
Not this time.
---
Dorm 20 was a crumbling structure at the edge of campus, half-swallowed by wild vines. Its roof sagged, and the paint peeled from the walls like sunburned skin. Inside, five beds, a cracked hearth, and the stale smell of mildew.
Jeremy dropped his pack by the furthest bed and sat heavily. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
Footsteps approached. A girl with a shock of red hair pushed the door open, a scowl etched onto her face.
"You the other reject?" she asked.
Jeremy blinked. "I guess so."
"Arwen," she said, tossing her bag onto the nearest bed. "Don't touch my stuff, don't wake me up early, and maybe we'll get along."
A heavy thud announced the another member of their dorm. A giant boy, easily six and a half feet tall, ducked through the doorway, a shy smile on his broad face.
"Hi," he said simply. "I'm Garet."
Jeremy managed a small smile. "Jeremy."
Garet took to his bed, settling down with a satisfied sigh.
Shortly after the last two dorm members came in and introduced themselves after they settled in. Kaela was beautiful and seemed to have a chip on her shoulder eying everyone cautiously, as she was the only one in the dorm who was there at the academy to study magic.
Unfortunately, everyone takes the same entrance exams so even if one is a powerful mage if your strength is lacking you will be sorted in the bottom. It is an unspoken rule that mages don't stay at the bottom long because their strength grows quickly if they are powerful in magic, so even her rank was low and a member of dorm 20 she knew she wouldn't have to worry about being bullied. Frederick tall and lanky came from the seaport region and had never been this inland, everything amazed him. He took the spot with the window facing the forest. He counted himself luckily for scoring such a good spot. He could watch the birds every morning and owls in the trees at night.
Arwen eyed all the members in the dorm. "Well, looks like we're the bottom of the barrel. Might as well stick together."
Jeremy felt a flicker of something—not hope, exactly, but something close.
---
That night, sleep eluded him. The ceiling seemed to press down on him, heavy with expectation. He rose quietly, careful not to wake Arwen or the others but especially Arwen, and slipped outside.
The academy was silent under the twin moons, shadows stretching long across the grounds. Jeremy wandered until he found a small, abandoned garden near the outer wall. There, beneath a twisted tree, he sat and pulled out the Eversoul Stone.
It pulsed faintly in his hand, warm and familiar.
Jeremy closed his eyes and focused.
The mist enveloped him. A wide platform appeared beneath his feet, lit by the glow of twin suns overhead. Floating stones spiraled into the distance. And at the edge of the path stood a spectral version of himself—taller, stronger, eyes like flame.
The figure spoke in Jeremy's voice, but filled with power:
"Climb, if you dare."
Jeremy ran. The platforms shifted beneath his feet. Wind howled. The stones were slick with frost. He slipped, bled, rose again.
And then the trial changed.
He stood at the edge of a familiar lake—one he hadn't seen since Earth. The water was still. The air heavy with memory.
He dropped to his knees.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why did you leave me?"
The lake offered no answer. It never had. But it had always been his place of peace.
"I needed you. I still need you. What am I supposed to do now?"
Tears slid down his cheeks. He didn't wipe them away.
Here, in the place he'd always let down his guard, he wept.
The image shimmered. His grief fueled the trial. Pain twisted his chest.
He screamed into the lake, voice breaking. "I'm not strong enough! I never was!"
The spectral reflection stood again before him.
"Then become more."
Jeremy stood.
The path rose again. He climbed, heart pounding. Fear shrieked in his mind. Pain dragged at his limbs.
But he climbed.
At the peak, light enveloped him. A new glyph burned into his chest—faint but real.
**Root of Resolve.**
He collapsed, panting.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in the garden.
The twin moons watched overhead.
And Jeremy Gray, The Lonely One, smiled.