The infirmary of Eldoria Academy smelled of bitter herbs and scorched linen, a sharp contrast to the pristine halls of the main campus. Kael sat on a narrow cot, his gray cloak folded beside him, watching as a healer wrapped Elara's burned arm in a bandage infused with a faint green glow. The magic woven into the cloth hummed softly, knitting her scorched skin back together with agonizing slowness. Elara's jaw was set, her dark eyes fixed on the wall, but Kael could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her uninjured hand clenched into a fist. The Culling Trial had left its mark on them both—not just physically, but in the unspoken bond forged in the labyrinth's chaos.
"That was reckless," Elara said at last, her voice low but sharp, cutting through the silence. "Collapsing the labyrinth? You could've killed us."
Kael didn't meet her gaze, his storm-gray eyes tracing the cracks in the stone floor. "It was the only way to stop Aric," he replied, his tone steady but laced with a fatigue that went deeper than his aching muscles. His mind replayed the moment—Aric's golden blades slicing through the air, the drain of using Severance on the labyrinth's core, the shuddering collapse of the enchanted maze. He'd exposed more of his power than he'd intended, and now the whispers were spreading. He could feel the weight of unseen eyes, the kind that lingered in the shadows of a royal court where secrets were currency.
The healer, an older woman with a scar across her cheek, finished her work and stepped back. "Rest for a day," she instructed Elara, her voice gruff. "No magic until the burn settles, or you'll undo the healing." She glanced at Kael, her gaze lingering on the forged Merivale crest pinned to his shirt. "You're lucky to be walking, boy. Most don't survive a stunt like that."
Kael nodded, murmuring a thanks as the healer left. The infirmary was quiet now, save for the faint drip of water from a leaking pipe in the corner. He turned to Elara, who was already pulling her crimson robe back on, wincing as the fabric brushed her bandaged arm. "You wanted to talk," he said, keeping his voice low. "About my… ability."
Elara's eyes flicked to the door, ensuring they were alone, before she spoke. "I've seen every trick in this academy—illusion spells, counter-magic, enchanted artifacts. But what you did in the arena, and again in the labyrinth, wasn't any of those. You broke Seris's spell without a counter, and you shattered the labyrinth's core without a visible incantation. That's not normal magic, Veyrin. So, what is it?"
Kael hesitated, the journal's weight pressing against his chest where it was tucked inside his shirt. He couldn't tell her everything—not yet. But he needed her as an ally, and that meant giving her enough to earn her trust. "It's called Severance," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "A rare magic. It lets me unravel spells, break their essence. But it's forbidden. If the royals find out, I'm dead."
Elara's expression didn't change, but her eyes sharpened, a flicker of understanding passing through them. "Forbidden magic," she murmured, leaning back against the cot. "That explains why Aric's so interested in you. He doesn't like threats he can't control." She paused, then added, "My brother, Rylan—he was expelled because Aric framed him for stealing a royal artifact. But I think there's more to it. Rylan was researching something, a secret about House Vaelthar. He wouldn't tell me what, but I found a note in his things after he disappeared. It mentioned a 'lost bloodline' and a power the royals feared."
Kael's breath caught. A lost bloodline—his bloodline? The pieces were starting to fit, but he needed more. "What happened to your brother?" he asked.
Elara's jaw tightened, her gaze distant. "After the expulsion, he was summoned to the royal court. They said it was for questioning, but he never came back. My family searched for him, but the Vaelthars control everything—records, guards, even the truth. My father thinks he's dead. I think he's alive, somewhere, and I'll burn this academy to the ground if that's what it takes to find him."
Kael studied her, the raw determination in her voice mirroring his own. "Then we have a common enemy," he said. "Aric—and the royal family. But we need to be smart. If they're hiding something about a lost bloodline, I need to know what it is. And I need to survive long enough to find out."
Elara nodded, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Good. Because I wasn't planning on letting you die just yet. We've got a prince to take down."
Their conversation was cut short by the infirmary door creaking open. Thane poked his head in, his mousy hair disheveled, his spellbook clutched to his chest. "Kael! You're alive!" he exclaimed, then blushed, lowering his voice. "I mean, I heard about the labyrinth. Everyone's talking about it—how you and Elara got five cores, how you collapsed the maze. They're saying you cheated, but… I don't think so."
Kael managed a small smile, though his mind was still on Elara's words. "Thanks, Thane. How'd you do?"
Thane shuffled his feet, his cheeks reddening further. "Two cores. Barely made it out. I ranked 87th. Not great, but I'm safe for now." He hesitated, then added, "There's a meeting tonight, in the east courtyard. Some of the lower ranks are gathering to talk about the trials—strategy, alliances, that sort of thing. You should come."
Kael exchanged a glance with Elara, who gave a slight nod. "We'll be there," he said. Thane beamed, scurrying off to spread the word. Kael turned back to Elara. "Alliances could help, but we need to be careful. If the royals are watching, they'll see any group as a threat."
"Agreed," Elara said, standing with a wince. "But we can't do this alone. Let's see what the others have to offer."
---
The east courtyard was cloaked in twilight, the sky a deep indigo streaked with the last threads of orange. Torches flickered along the perimeter, casting long shadows over the cracked cobblestones where a dozen students had gathered. They were a motley group—lowborns, minor nobles, and a few disgraced heirs, all united by their shared struggle to survive the academy's brutal hierarchy. Kael recognized a few faces: a wiry girl with a scar across her nose, a hulking boy with a broken staff, and a pale, thin student who kept muttering to himself.
Thane stood at the center, his voice trembling as he addressed the group. "We're all at the bottom," he said, clutching his spellbook. "But if we work together—share strategies, watch each other's backs—we might stand a chance. The next Culling Trial is in a month, and we need to be ready."
The wiry girl, who introduced herself as Mara, snorted. "Work together? Last time I trusted someone, they stole my cores and left me to face a crystal wolf alone. Why should I trust any of you?"
"Because we're all dead if we don't," Elara cut in, her voice sharp. She stepped forward, her crimson robe catching the torchlight, her bandaged arm hidden beneath a sleeve. "The nobles want us gone. The royals want us broken. If we don't fight back, we're just waiting to be picked off."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Kael stayed silent, observing. Mara's skepticism was a problem, but Elara's fire was winning them over. He stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "She's right. I've seen what the nobles do to those they deem weak. But we're not weak—we're underestimated. That's our advantage. We can use their arrogance against them."
The hulking boy, Gav, grunted. "Pretty words, but what's your plan, Merivale? You're the one who collapsed the labyrinth. Got any more tricks up your sleeve?"
Kael hesitated. He couldn't reveal Severance, but he needed their trust. "I know how to break their spells," he said carefully. "I can teach you how to spot weaknesses in their magic, how to counter them without wasting your own energy. But we need to train—together. And we need information. The royals are hiding something, and I think it's tied to the Culling Trials."
The pale student, who called himself Lir, spoke up, his voice barely a whisper. "I've heard things," he said, his eyes darting nervously. "In the library, there's a sealed archive—records of past trials, students who disappeared. They say the royals use the trials to… eliminate threats. Bloodlines they don't control."
Kael's pulse quickened. Another hint at his family's fate. "Can you get into that archive?" he asked.
Lir swallowed hard. "Maybe. But it's warded. I'd need help."
"I'll handle the wards," Elara said, her tone decisive. "Fire magic can burn through most enchantments. But we'll need a distraction—something to keep the proctors busy."
The group began to plan, their voices a low hum of determination. Kael felt a flicker of hope, but it was tempered by caution. Alliances were fragile, and betrayal was a constant risk. As the meeting ended, he pulled Elara aside. "We need to be ready for anything," he said. "If Lir's right, the royals are watching closer than we think."
Elara nodded, her smirk returning. "Then let's give them something to watch."
---
The next week passed in a blur of classes, training, and whispered plans. Kael spent his nights in the library, poring over tomes on magical theory while Elara and Lir scouted the sealed archive. During the day, he trained with the group, teaching them how to spot flaws in spell patterns—knowledge he'd gained from years of observing mages in the slums. His own magic remained a secret, but the effort of hiding it was wearing him down. Each use of Severance left him drained, a dull ache spreading through his chest like a warning.
One evening, as he returned to the dormitory, he found a note slipped under his door. The handwriting was sharp, elegant, and unfamiliar: *"Meet me at the Glass Arena at midnight. Come alone."* It was unsigned, but the parchment bore the faint shimmer of royal magic. Kael's stomach twisted. This was a trap—or a test. Either way, he couldn't ignore it.
The Glass Arena was eerily silent under the moonlight, its crystal walls reflecting the stars like a fractured mirror. Kael stepped inside, his dagger at the ready, his senses alert. A figure emerged from the shadows—Proctor Lysara, her silver hair glowing faintly in the dim light, her royal crest catching the moon's glow.
"You've made quite a stir, Kael Veyrin," she said, her voice cold but curious. "Collapsing the labyrinth was… unexpected. As was your performance against Lady Seris. Tell me, what drives a lowborn like you to challenge the elite?"
Kael kept his expression neutral, his mind racing. "I want to survive," he said simply. "This academy is a battlefield. I'm just playing the game."
Lysara's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "A practical answer. But I see more in you—ambition, perhaps. Or vengeance." She stepped closer, her gaze piercing. "Be careful, boy. The royal family does not tolerate threats. And you… you have the makings of one."
She turned to leave but paused at the arena's edge. "A word of advice," she said over her shoulder. "The next Culling Trial will be unlike the last. Prepare, or you'll be the next to disappear."
Kael stood frozen as she vanished into the night, her words echoing in his mind. The royals were watching—closer than he'd feared. He needed answers, and he needed them fast. The sealed archive was his best lead, but Lysara's warning suggested time was running out.
---
The plan to break into the archive came together the next night. Elara and Lir met Kael in the library's lower levels, where a heavy iron door marked with royal runes stood guard over the sealed records. Elara's fire magic burned through the wards, the runes sizzling as they melted away, while Gav and Mara staged a distraction in the courtyard—a mock duel that drew the proctors' attention.
Inside, the archive was a maze of dusty shelves, the air thick with the scent of old parchment. Lir led them to a section labeled "Trial Records," his trembling hands pulling down a ledger from the year prior. Kael flipped through the pages, his heart pounding. The names of expelled students were listed, alongside notes in a sharp, royal script: *"Threat neutralized." "Bloodline terminated."* One entry caught his eye—Rylan of House Draven, Elara's brother. The note beside his name read: *"Suspected knowledge of the Veyrin bloodline. Relocated for questioning."*
Elara's breath hitched. "He's alive," she whispered, her voice trembling with hope and fury. "They took him."
Kael's own name stared back at him from the page—his true name, Kael Veyrin, not the forged Merivale identity. His family's fall was documented in cold detail: *"Veyrin bloodline eradicated. Forbidden magic confirmed. One survivor unaccounted for."* The royals knew he was alive. They, ensuring a plot-driven story with overwhelming strategy and survival stakes. Here's Chapter 2, tailored to your preference for me to write what I think is best.
Kael's pulse quickened. His family's destruction was tied to Severance—a power the royals feared enough to erase an entire bloodline. And now they were hunting him. He needed to find Rylan, to uncover the full truth. But as the library's bells tolled, signaling the end of the night, a new sound echoed through the archive—a soft click of the door locking behind them.
They were trapped.