"They are in awe of you." I say down the bond that connects me to Kaelum, Still watching Zale's expression, the wonder not yet faded from his eyes.
Kaelum's response came as a low, curling echo through the link— assured and utterly unbothered. "As they should be."
I rolled my eyes, though a small part of me agreed. With a presence like his, that level of arrogance wasn't exactly unearned.
"Are all wolves this full of themselves, or just you?" I muttered down the bond, not entirely expecting a response.
Kaelum didn't hesitate. "Not as much as me."
I scoffed mentally. "It's not a competition, you know."
With his tone suddenly sharper now, like the chill of mountain stone, he answered."Everything is."
And just like that—snap—the bond dimmed.
Not gone. But shuttered.
I stumbled mid-step, the sudden silence in my mind like a door slamming shut in a quiet house. A cold wall where his presence had just been. I pressed against it gently, curiously, as if testing the seam of a locked gate.
Nothing.
He hadn't vanished. He'd just… disengaged.
I exhaled slowly. Fine. Enough human interaction for the day, apparently. Whatever Kaelum was, he wasn't built for chatter. Maybe I'd already pushed too far. Still, the absence sat uncomfortably in my chest. Like putting on armor that didn't quite fit.
Zale glanced over, probably sensing the shift in my expression. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I lied smoothly. "Just learning how to talk to wolves. Not exactly in the handbook."
"Don't worry," Zale said, his arm returning to rest on my shoulders again with familiar ease. "You've got a lifetime to figure it out."
Before I could respond, a voice cleaved cleanly through the courtyard, silencing every murmur.
"Congratulations."
Beta Cael stood on a raised stone dais, posture knife-straight, pale eyes cutting across us like winter light. Everything about him was precise—his words, his stance, even the stillness he commanded. The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was full of breath held and shoulders squared.
"Survivors," he began, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "You stand within Heartstone, the Citadel of Zevarra. You have endured the Trial. You have proven the strength of your bond. For that, you have earned your place here." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But this is the beginning, not the end. From this point forward, you become more than you were.."
He clasped his hands behind his back. "You are not students. You are not here to learn. You are assets, here to become indispensable. This Citadel doesn't train students—it forges weapons. And a weapon must be sharper today than it was yesterday."
A beat of silence followed. No one dared shift or breathe too loudly.
"You are already assigned to your packs, and you'll know more about it during orientation. Follow your designated leaders. They will show you to the new riders' quarters. Bathe. Eat. Rest. You have twelve hours. Use them. Gather back here," he indicated the exact spot where he stood, "precisely at the next bell for orientation. Understood?"
A murmur of assent rippled through the group.
"Leighis," Cael called out. A tall, lean man with silver streaks in his dark hair and eyes that held deep reserves of calm stepped forward from near an archway. He wore leathers of soft grey and green patches, one of them marked with the Leighis sigil – a hand cradling a glowing heartstone. "Follow Gamma Tobias Thorne." Gamma Thorne gave a solemn nod, gesturing for the Leighis-bound recruits to join him.
"Nathair." Beta Cael gestured towards a deep alcove shrouded in shadow. For a moment, it seemed he pointed at empty darkness. Then, a figure detached itself from the gloom as if materializing from nowhere. Rydeen, Nathair's Beta, was a man of average height but unnerving stillness. His eyes, dark and sharp, missed nothing. He wore practical, dark grey leathers that seemed to drink the light. He merely lifted a hand, a silent summons. Marco shot me a quick, excited look before melting into the group moving towards Rydeen.
"Kuzgun." Beta Cael's voice cut through the courtyard again and my gaze followed his, landing on a figure I recognized instantly—the cold-eyed warrior from Sundra, the one who'd stood at Alpha Zion's side. The one who manipulated sound like it was something he could shape and sharpen.
"Follow Beta Weles," Cael added, stepping back.
Beta Weles moved forward. His face was all sharp lines and discipline, but for the briefest second, he looked my way, eyes widening for a split second, recognition flickering in his stern eyes.
I felt Zale stiffen beside me. The hand he'd draped so easily over my shoulder moments ago now pressed in, with a little more pressure than I'd like.
I turned to him, alarm tightening in my chest. "Zale?"
He was hunched slightly, one arm wrapping around his stomach.
"Are you okay?" I asked, lowering my voice.
He shook his head quickly, already brushing it off. "Yeah. Just a cramp or something." His voice was tight, still clutching his stomach and still hunched over.
I didn't believe him, but I let it go, for now.
When I looked back toward the dais, Beta Weles was already in motion, beckoning his riders with a curt gesture and Beta Cael was moving forward again.
"Sezja." A young woman stepped forward. Her hair was a cascade of dark brown braided tightly, but vibrant strands of deep, coppery red caught the dim light. Her stance was solid, protective, her eyes watchful. She wore reinforced leathers bearing the Sezja sigil – a tower shield crossed with a spear. "Follow Gamma Jia." Gamma Jia offered a small, firm smile, radiating quiet strength.
"Lorgaire." A woman with weathered skin, keen eyes that scanned the group like a hawk, and practical gear stepped up. Her movements were economical and precise. "Follow Gamma Kora." Gamma Kora gave a sharp whistle, a sound like a hunting bird, and the Lorgaire recruits, including Zale, after he gave my shoulder a squeeze and whispered, "Later" to both Roan and me, fell in behind her with instinctive alignment.
"Feabhas," Cael said, his gaze settling finally on the remaining few of us. "With me." He turned without further word and strode towards one of the massive towers flanking the inner gate. Roan touched my arm briefly, and we followed our Beta, along with the other Feabhas recruits.
Beta Cael led us through echoing stone corridors, the walls lit by glowing heartstone sconces sunk deep into the rock. The light was warm but strange—like holding a flame too long in your palms. He moved with silently, wasting no words. Just short, clipped commands as we passed each landmark.
"Armory. Access restricted."
We kept walking.
"Main Forge. Stay clear unless summoned."
The heat pulsing from behind the sealed door was enough to make me sweat.
We stopped in front of towering iron-bound double doors. He turned just enough to speak over his shoulder. "The Hall of Echoes. Orientation and major gatherings. You will assemble here everyday."
Further on, another set of heavy doors stood slightly ajar. The warm scent of stew and bread drifted out, hitting me like a punch to the chest. My stomach clenched hard, as if it had only just remembered it was empty. After hours of choking down dry venison, the aroma was almost too much—rich, earthy, alive and grounding me for a moment in something ordinary and human. Inside, I caught a glimpse of long tables and the soft clatter of crockery.
"Refectory. All packs eat here together. Times are posted on all four walls."
Then we ascended—up a broad spiral staircase winding inside one of the smaller towers, still grand but less imposing than the central spire. I lost count of the landings. My legs burned with each step, but I didn't dare slow down. Finally, we stopped at a long corridor lined with heavy wooden doors, each one fitted with dark iron latches and burnished handles.
"Bonded Quarters. Feabhas wing," Beta Cael said, gesturing down the hall. "Find an empty bunk. Stow your gear. The Citadel issued uniforms will arrive in a few hours, give or take."
His gaze swept over us. "Twelve hours. Use them."
Then he turned and disappeared down the stairs, his footsteps quickly swallowed by the hush of stone.
We stood there for a beat, uncertain. The corridor stretched out, dimly lit by steady amber sconces. I counted roughly ten, maybe fifteen doors—too many to be all single-occupancy, too few for private rooms.
"Wait," Roan murmured beside me, glancing down the hall. "Aren't the dorms supposed to be split?"
I tilted my head at him. "If they were, Beta Cael would've said so." I gestured toward a few recruits further down, watching as a cluster of three split off—two ducking into a room together while the third moved into the one across from them. "Looks like it's mixed," I said.
Roan hesitated for half a second. "Then... let's stick together. If you don't mind."
I looked at him tiredly and gave a small smile. "Of course."
We moved together toward the farthest door at the end of the hall, one slightly ajar.
The room was simple—but not crude. Four stone bunks, edges worn smooth, each holding a thick mattress, soft woolen blankets, and deep gray sheets. A small chest stood at the foot of each bed, dark wood gleaming faintly in the low light. Above each bed, a narrow shelf was cut into the wall. The air smelled faintly of lye soap, lavender oil, and polished stone.
Two bunks were already claimed—neatly folded cloaks, satchels, and the sharp scent of someone else's soap made that clear.
I stepped toward the bed nearest the window.
I made my way to the bed beside the narrow window. The moment I touched the blanket, my fingers sank into the softest wool I'd ever felt. Dense and warm, the kind of fabric people in Sundra could only dream of affording. The mattress had a surprising give beneath my hand. Even the small chest at the foot of the bed gleamed faintly in the low light, its iron corners carved with subtle symbols.
I glanced out the narrow slit of a window, A dizzying drop revealed the chasm below, while across the gulf rose another wing of the Citadel—spires and towers jutting into the sky like the ribs of some great sleeping beast. Mist curled around their bases, catching the light of day in soft golds and silvers.
I dropped my pack onto the chest with a muffled thud, still staring.
This was mine. No matter how stark, this room held more luxury than any tenement in Sundra. And more than that—it meant something.
Roan set his pack down across from me, on the bunk by the door. He sat, rubbing a hand over his face, then glanced up at me.
"This is real," he said softly. "Isn't it?"
I nodded. "Feels like a story someone else should be telling."
He gave me the same tired smile, then leaned back on the bunk. "Well, let's live it right, then."
I sat too, curling my knees up against my chest, the stone wall cool at my back. The silence settled in, thick with weight and wonder.
Twelve hours. Enough time to breathe. To feel the ground under me. And, for once, not feel like it was about to vanish.