Ashen Vale stood in the Observation Chamber, sweat dripping from his neck, ember still pulsing beneath his skin.
He wasn't the same boy from the alley anymore. He'd survived the Echo Trial. He'd summoned a construct, his Root Spell, on the first day.
And now, he was Cradleborn.
Whatever that meant.
"You shouldn't be alive."
Ash turned. The violet-haired boy from earlier—mouthy, smug, eyes sharp, leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His gray uniform shimmered with threads of silver. The symbol of his root glowed faintly over his chest: a coiling serpent biting its tail.
"Nice to see you again, Shadow-Mouth," Ash said.
The boy snorted. "Name's Kael. Root type: Memory Serpent. Ranked fourth among second-year Spellcrafters. Unlike you, I earned my seat."
Ash tilted his head. "Cool story. You done?"
Kael stepped forward. "Listen, Wildroot, Cradleborn or not, if you think one flashy Root makes you special, you're wrong. The Cradle doesn't play favorites. It devours weakness. And I smell it all over you."
Ash's eyes narrowed. The ember warmed.
Kael's eyes flicked to Ash's chest, as if he could see it too. "I'll enjoy watching you burn."
A voice cut through the tension.
"Step away from my roommate."
Kepp.
He entered the chamber upside down, literally walking on the ceiling. His curly hair dangled like vines, and a faint shimmer of light magic surrounded his boots.
Kael sneered. "Ah. The Trickster. Still failing practicals?"
Kepp grinned. "Still hiding behind rank charts like they mean anything?"
Kael turned, cloak flicking. "You'll both be sorted out soon enough."
He left without another word.
Ash exhaled.
"Thanks," he said.
Kepp dropped to the ground with a thump. "Kael's the type who polishes his own mirror three times a day. You'll get used to him."
"I don't want to get used to anyone here."
Kepp gave him a look. "You'd better. You made it through the first trial. That means you're part of this now."
"Part of what?"
Kepp's grin faded. "The Ember War."
Ash blinked. "What?"
"You think this academy exists just to teach spellcraft? No. We're being trained. Forged. Every year, hundreds of memory-borns are taken in… but only a few survive the cycle."
"What cycle?"
Before Kepp could answer, a new chime rang through the air.
"All first-tier initiates, report to Foundry Hall. Combat Pairings Trial begins in thirty minutes. Failure to attend will result in Disintegration Protocol."
Ash flinched. "Disintegration? Isn't that a bit much?"
Kepp shrugged. "You'll find that here, punishment is mostly permanent."
Foundry Hall – Combat Pairings
The Foundry was alive.
Not metaphorically, literally. The walls breathed with molten veins. The floor shifted subtly beneath their feet like coiled metal skin. Spell circles floated in the air, rotating, casting everchanging shadows. In the center of the vast hall was a circular arena bordered by silver flame.
Ash arrived with Kepp and Ren, only to find dozens of students already gathered in their rank clusters. Crow floated above on a hovering disc, flanked by other instructors, each one stranger than the last.
One was half-machine, half-bird. Another wore a mask of stitched laughter. A third glowed faintly, as if made of time.
"Welcome to the Pairing Trial," Crow announced. "This is not a match for points. It is a compatibility test. To bind magic with another is the first step toward survival in the Cradle."
Murmurs passed through the crowd.
"You will be paired," Crow continued, "based on Root resonance and probability affinity. If your pairing fails, you will not proceed to Tier Two. The Root rejects isolation."
Ash frowned. "Pairing? But I just got here—"
He was cut off by a beam of light shooting down from above. It hit him and another.
A girl.
She stepped forward from the feather-marked line, dark-skinned, sharp-eyed, with green braids and a demeanor like quiet thunder.
"You?" Ash said.
She nodded. "Nia. Flight Root. Conceptual subclass. I saw you in the Trial."
"Didn't say hi."
"I was waiting to see if you survived."
Ash blinked. "Charming."
Crow raised a hand.
"All pairs. Enter the arena. Prepare for bond resonance combat."
Round One – Nia and Ash
The arena shimmered into a different world.
Ash stood beside Nia on a platform of stone hanging over a sea of memory mist. Their opponents: a pair of fourth-tier students—one carrying a staff made of woven glass, the other surrounded by floating crystals.
A timer appeared in the air: 00:30:00.
Crow's voice echoed: "Your Root must synchronize. You win when both opponents are unconscious, disarmed, or expelled from the field. Begin."
Ash turned. "We've never trained together."
Nia didn't look at him. "Then catch up fast."
She leapt forward, wind bursting from her boots. Her Root Spell activated midair—feathered wings made of blue glass erupted from her back. She spun like a comet and slammed into the glass-staff boy.
Ash blinked. "Okay then."
The other opponent came for him—crystals orbiting his body, forming a barrier.
Ash reached inward.
"Ember Voice," he whispered.
A flame spiral burst from his chest, forming a small construct, a humanoid shape with no face.
The crystal-user launched a barrage of shards.
Ash ducked, letting the construct shield him. "Burn the path!"
The construct flared and blasted the incoming attack with golden flame, clearing the way.
Ash ran forward, sliding under another strike. The enemy overcommitted. Big mistake.
Ash jumped and shouted: "Bind through ember!"
His construct exploded in light, launching a flare that struck the opponent's chest and wrapped him in a cage of memory-embers. The boy dropped with a grunt.
Ash looked up.
Nia was already finishing her fight, blades of air slicing through the enemy's shield.
She turned and met Ash's gaze.
For the first time, she nodded. "You're not useless."
"Thanks," Ash said. "You either."
The platform glowed red.
"VICTORY. Team 13: Ashen Vale and Nia Featherburn."
After the Trial
Back in the barracks, Ash sat on his bunk. His arms ached. His mind buzzed. The ember inside pulsed in lazy circles.
Kepp bounced in. "You passed? Really?"
Ash nodded. "Barely."
"Good. That means you're ready for Phase Two."
Ash blinked. "What's Phase Two?"
Ren entered behind Kepp, silent as ever. He tossed Ash a folded cloth.
"What's this?"
"Your badge," Ren said. "Welcome to Tier One."
Ash unfolded it. A simple insignia: 🜂—the split flame
Kepp flopped onto a bunk. "Don't let it go to your head. Tier One's where the real pain starts. Spell History, Memory Discipline, Emotion Binding, Multi-root Coordination. Oh, and guess who teaches it?"
Ash sighed. "Crow?"
Kepp grinned. "Crow's scary. But no. The Dreamguard."
Ash blinked. "They're real?"
"Very," Ren said quietly. "And they watch everything."
Ash sat back.
He'd survived the alley. The ember. The Root Trial. The Combat Pairing.
But something told him the real danger hadn't even begun.
A bell tolled far in the distance.
Then the whisper returned—soft, feminine, inside his skull:
"Ashen Vale. The flame you carry remembers the end of the world. And it's waking."