The courtyard of the Ember Academy was an ocean of black stone, surrounded by obsidian towers that rose like fangs toward a blood-red sky.
The runes etched into the walls pulsed with firelight, as if the Academy itself were alive—breathing.
I stood there, my body trembling from exhaustion, dried blood crusted on my face.
The black veins of Aether clawed at my skin like a visible curse.
Nyra stood beside me, gripping her knife with tense fingers. Her shoulder bled, but her gaze was sharp—ready to cut down anyone who dared approach.
The amulet of Lirien, cold and dark in my hand, felt like dead weight.
But I didn't let go.
Dren's reliquary pulsed in my pocket, glowing with a violet flash that reminded me of the man in the mask. Of the Knight of Wrath. Of the shadows that hunted us.
And in my mind, the Threshold whispered—its voice a war-born echo.
> "The Academy is a forge, Echo. Survive, and the throne will be yours."
The woman in the flame-colored robe watched us. Her eyes were living embers. Her crimson hair danced like fire.
Her presence filled the courtyard. A wildfire threatening to consume us.
"Arion Vaelis," she spoke, her voice rumbling like restrained thunder. "Nyra of the Winds. You have crossed the threshold of the Ember Academy. But entering does not make you worthy."
She raised her hand.
The runes beneath our feet glowed.
The ground trembled.
"Here, fire purifies... or it burns."
Nyra stepped forward, her blade spinning in her grasp.
"We didn't come to play word games," she growled, the air around her swirling—cutting through dust like blades.
"If you want to test us, then do it."
The woman smiled.
A blade hidden in that expression.
"Brave," she said. "But bravery isn't enough."
She snapped her fingers.
The courtyard exploded into chaos.
The ground split open. Pillars of fire surged upward like spears.
I shoved Nyra aside, flames licking my skin.
A roar echoed—and from the fire, figures emerged.
Not men.
Constructs of flame. Their eyes were coals. Their swords, pure fire.
"Cover yourself!" I yelled, my dagger—still stained with ash—cutting the air.
I stabbed one in the chest.
It burst into sparks.
Reformed instantly.
Nyra unleashed a vortex of Wind, tearing two constructs apart. Her blade danced in her hand like an extension of her fury.
She moved like a storm. Each strike a declaration of war. The wind screamed around her like a hymn.
"They don't die!" she shouted, ducking a flaming sword that seared her cloak.
But there was no fear in her voice—only defiance.
She was the storm.
And the courtyard was hers.
My strategist's mind tore through the chaos.
The constructs weren't the real enemy.
They were a test.
The runes—they fed them.
"The ground!" I roared. "Destroy the runes!"
Nyra nodded.
She hurled a gust of Wind, shattering part of the courtyard. A rune blinked out.
The constructs staggered.
But the flame-robed woman raised her hand.
The fire surged. A wall of flame encircled us.
"Not so fast," she hissed. "Show me your soul—or burn."
The Aether howled within me.
Begging to be released.
My body was wrecked. The black veins tightened around my heart. Blood dripped from my eyes.
But I couldn't fall.
Not now.
I clenched Lirien's dark amulet.
Seeking her voice.
Only silence.
> "You are enough," she had said.
But I wasn't.
Not without a price.
"Nyra, fall back!" I shouted.
I stepped forward.
The Aether burst free—my eyes blazing violet. The air shattered around me.
The courtyard shook.
The runes flickered.
A violet explosion erased the flame wall. The constructs crumbled into ashes.
But the pain was a hammer to my soul.
I dropped to my knees, blood pouring from my mouth. The black veins spread like living roots.
I felt my soul fracture.
Another piece—ripped away by the Threshold.
The robed woman didn't move.
"The Aether," she murmured, eyes narrowing. "A forbidden power. And yet, here you are."
She snapped her fingers.
The fire vanished.
Silence returned to the courtyard.
But it wasn't victory.
Only pause.
Nyra reached me, blade still ready.
"What the hell was that?" she hissed. Her face pale—but her eyes burned.
"That power… it's killing you."
"I don't have a choice," I growled, rising to my feet.
The reliquary pulsed in my pocket.
Its violet glow resonated with the runes.
I pulled it out. Its heat scorched my fingers.
"This is what they want," I said. "And I won't let them have it."
The woman stepped closer.
Her presence pushed the air back like a wildfire.
"The reliquary," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "A fragment of the Threshold. Do you know what you carry, child?"
Her eyes locked on mine.
And for a moment—I saw beyond the fire.
Knowledge.
And danger.
"I know they want me dead," I said, voice cold. "And I know they'll fail."
She laughed. A sound more roar than laughter.
"Arrogant. But fire never lies."
She turned, pointing to a distant tower.
> "The Trial of the Crucible awaits you. Pass it, and the Academy will claim you. Fail… and your ashes will feed the runes."
Before we could answer, a scream split the sky.
A violet rift tore open above.
An inhuman roar spilled out.
The masked man emerged—his scythe gleaming, riding a dragon of black scales.
But he wasn't alone.
The Knight of Wrath rode beside him. His sword blazed red. His black armor pulsed with crushing power.
> "The Echo will not escape," he bellowed—his voice a quake.
Nyra raised her blade, the wind howling around her.
"Not again!" she growled, unleashing a vortex that cut the air like a guillotine.
The dragon roared.
Purple flames flooded the courtyard.
The robed woman raised her hand.
A wall of white fire clashed against the violet inferno.
The ground trembled.
> "This is the Academy!" she roared. "No one profanes my domain!"
Her robe ignited.
Fire runes danced on her skin.
The courtyard became a battleground of white and purple flames.
"To the tower!" I yelled, shoving Nyra.
We ran—dodging fire and shadows.
The Knight of Wrath struck, his blade cleaving air.
But the woman met him—white fire slamming into red flame in a sky-shaking explosion.
The masked man swung his scythe.
Shadow-beasts with claws chased us.
Nyra tore through them with a tornado—her knife flashing like lightning.
We reached the tower.
An obsidian door pulsed with glowing runes.
But the dragon caught up.
Its claw swept the air.
I dove, pushing Nyra away.
The claw raked my back.
Aether howled—an explosion of violet flared behind me, stopping the dragon.
But the pain blinded me.
I collapsed, blood gushing from my mouth.
The black veins spread across my body like broken armor.
Nyra dragged me to the door—her whirlwind holding the shadows back.
"Don't you dare die, idiot!" she yelled, voice cracking.
The door opened.
A flash of white swallowed us—and the courtyard vanished.
We fell into a chamber of stone. The walls pulsed with fire runes.
A voice echoed—not hers, but something older.
Alive.
> "The Crucible will test you. Burn… or be reborn."
The ground trembled.
A figure rose from the flames.
A colossus—its eyes molten magma. A sword burning like a sun.
A vision struck me.
The obsidian throne.
Blood dripping.
Nyra—dead.
Lirien—fading.
The Knight of Wrath—smiling.
And others rose behind him.
A Shadow King.
An Ice Queen.
A monster wrapped in chains.
The Sins.
> "The Crucible is your forge," the Threshold whispered.
"But the throne is your prison."
I rose, dagger ready.
Aether roaring in my veins.
Nyra lifted her blade, wind swirling around her like a war cry.
"Ready," I said, my violet eyes burning.
The colossus struck.
And the Crucible began.