The gates of the Royal Palace were so tall I'm convinced they were built just to make mortals like us feel like ants. Black steel inlaid with gold, each door engraved with scenes of battles and dragons, shimmering faintly in the early morning light.
When they began to open, the sound wasn't a creak — it was a deep, rolling groan, like the world itself was reluctantly letting us in. And honestly, if the palace had a mind of its own, I wouldn't let me in either.
Beyond the gates stretched a courtyard paved with polished marble that reflected the morning sky. Towers and spires rose all around, their tips piercing through lazy curls of mist. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and something sweet I couldn't place. Guards stood in neat rows along the path, their silver armor gleaming. I swear I caught two of them whispering before straightening abruptly when we passed. One of them definitely mouthed "princess" before clamping his jaw shut.
At the end of the path, a man in pristine white-and-gold robes stood waiting. His hair was tied back so tightly it might've been holding up half his skull, and the smug curve of his mouth suggested he was used to being the most important person in the room.
He raised his voice, and it rolled across the courtyard like a battle drum.
"Welcome, chosen seven! This year's screening was… unusually demanding. Normally, we admit twice as many as you see standing here, but circumstances…" His eyes glittered. "…demanded higher standards. You should be proud."
I thought about the hallucinations in the test and decided "proud" was not my current emotional state.
He unrolled a scroll, cleared his throat, and began.
---
"Amir Voss."
The giant stepped forward, his boots thudding like war drums. Broad-shouldered, stone-faced, and radiating "I could snap you in half" energy. Blue core, level 5.
The official smiled faintly. "If we need someone to intimidate an army into surrendering, we'll just send you to stand there and breathe."
---
"Shahib Al-Rami."
The man in flowing desert robes moved with a measured grace, each step deliberate. His sharp gaze scanned everything — the gates, the walls, even the clouds — like he was memorizing it for later. Blue core, level 4.
The official's tone softened. "Master tactician in the making. Or perhaps you're just calculating how many steps it would take to escape from here."
---
"Lucian Brightwind."
The blond's hair practically glowed under the sun. He winked — actually winked — at the official. A palace maid walking past tripped over nothing. Blue core, level 4.
The official's eye twitched. "Your core strength is respectable. Your… flirtation strength is concerning. Do keep your focus, Brightwind. This is the Academy of Shadows, not a matchmaking hall."
---
"Selene Vire."
Mini skirt, bralette, and a strut that said she didn't care about rules. Blue core, level 5. She stopped in front of the official, smiling lazily.
The official cleared his throat twice. "Exceptional power… and an unorthodox choice of attire. I will assume it is a cultural preference rather than a… distraction tactic." Selene's smirk said otherwise.
---
"Mei Lin."
A vision of poise in traditional silk, her dark hair pinned neatly, each movement as smooth as flowing water. Blue core, level 4.
The official actually bowed his head. "A scholar and a warrior. Your people must be proud." Mei Lin simply smiled.
---
"Lie Jun."
Chubby Guy stepped up, grinning like he'd already won the lottery. Indigo core, level 3 — second weakest in the group.
The official arched an eyebrow. "Remarkable perseverance for someone who appeared ready to faint in the first trial."
"I was pacing myself," Lie Jun said.
"On the ground?" the official asked without missing a beat. The group snorted.
---
Then came my turn.
"Xiao Zhen."
The pause was noticeable. "Core… violet… level 2."
The official's brow furrowed, then smoothed into polite neutrality. "A rare core. And… a modest starting point. Some might call it the weakest in the group, but here at the Academy we believe even the smallest ember can ignite a great fire."
That sounded encouraging until I caught Lucian mouthing weakest in the group behind him.
---
The introductions done, we were led forward.
The palace corridors were absurd. Golden arches. Tapestries depicting battles where the heroes' hair looked like it was styled mid-fight. Walls with inlaid crystals that glowed faintly as we walked past.
Amir accidentally pulled a door handle clean off. Lucian leaned against a column to flirt with yet another maid, this one blushing so furiously she almost dropped the silver tray she was holding. Selene "accidentally" let her handkerchief fall again; Lie Jun stopped so abruptly behind her he almost swallowed his own tongue. Mei Lin studied every wall carving like it contained the answer to life itself. Shahib muttered numbers under his breath.
The air shifted as we passed through an archway. The fog was the first thing I noticed — pale and curling low over the stone paths ahead. The Academy wasn't a single building, but a sprawling collection of towers, bridges, and courtyards stitched together by silver-threaded magic. The walls shimmered faintly as if the stone itself was alive.
Blue-flamed lanterns floated lazily through the air, casting soft light over canals of perfectly clear water where glowing koi darted beneath the surface. Somewhere, a bell tolled, and the sound seemed to bend the air around us. The chill deepened — not unpleasant, but sharp enough to make you aware of it.
"This," the official announced, "is where shadows are shaped and light is commanded. This is where you will be remade."
We were taken to our rooms, each tucked inside a towering spire. Mine was bigger than my old house — twice over. Velvet curtains shimmered when I brushed them, the bed looked like it might swallow me whole, and a crystal orb floated in the corner, humming faintly. Above, a constellation glowed softly in the ceiling, shifting every few seconds as though the sky itself was alive in here.
I fell into the bed, sighing. "Yeah… I could live with this."
A knock came. I opened the door to a palace maid, her tone polite but urgent.
"Sir Xiao Zhen… you're requested… behind the academy."
My brain: Nope. This is how people die in stories.
My legs: Let's go see what happens.
The path took me through twisting corridors, out into the night air, and then into the woods behind the academy. The fog here was thicker, the cold sharper, every breath a puff of white. Shadows clung to the trees unnaturally, like they were leaning in to listen.
The trail opened into a small clearing.
I stepped forward.
Saw the figure.
My jaw dropped.
It was—