Ronan struck the stone floor with a wet, brutal thud.
The force of the ejection did not stop there. Momentum hurled him backwards across the chamber, boots shrieking against ancient masonry as sparks scraped from worn soles. He slid until his back crashed into the far wall hard enough to rattle dust loose from the ceiling.
He did not collapse.
He remained crouched there, shoulders hunched, chest dragging in ragged breaths that sounded too sharp, too uneven. His fingers clawed into the stone between his knees, knuckles white with strain. The pressure split the edges of his nails. Tiny cracks ran through them, darkening with blood.
A slow drip echoed against the floor.
Blood slid steadily from his right palm where the spatial rift had carved into flesh. It ran over his wrist, gathered at his fingertips, then fell in thick crimson drops that spread across the grey stone in uneven circles.
The chamber had gone quiet. No one moved at first.
Elenor inhaled sharply when she saw him. Her body reacted before thought could catch up—one foot stepping forward, hands lifting instinctively as if she meant to run to him.
Then she saw his eyes. Her movement stopped. The air around her felt colder. The hand she had raised slowly lowered again. That was not Ronan's gaze.
There was no confusion in it. No pain. No relief in surviving. Only stillness. Predatory stillness.
His eyes were fixed somewhere ahead, dark and sharpened by something that felt utterly foreign. Not empty—worse than empty. Focused. Violent. Like an animal that had not finished hunting yet.
A quiet pressure settled in Elenor's chest. Her breath shortened. Without realising it, she took half a step backwards.
Orin frowned and moved closer, concern overpowering hesitation. "Ronan?" he called carefully. "Are you okay?"
Ronan's head snapped toward him. The motion sent a shiver through the room. The shift of his gaze landed on Orin with enough force that even Orin hesitated mid-step. Elenor felt her stomach tighten.
Those eyes did not recognise them. For a brief, terrible second, it felt as though Ronan was deciding whether they were threats.
Then Ronan noticed movement beside Orin. His gaze flickered. He saw Elenor stepping back. The smallest tremor passed through his pupils. Something cracked. His breathing faltered.
He blinked once, as if waking from deep underwater. His eyes shifted around the chamber, confusion bleeding into awareness. Stone walls. Instructors. Students. Blood on the floor.
The illusion was gone. His shoulders lowered by a fraction. The tension inside him loosened, not all at once, but like something reluctantly unclenching. His gaze dropped to his hand.
Blood coated his palm. The sight grounded him. The heavy rhythm of his breathing slowly steadied.
The side door opened. Mr. Alaric emerged quickly, robes swaying behind him. The moment he saw Ronan's condition, he crossed the chamber without hesitation and dropped to one knee beside him.
Soft golden light bloomed around his hands. "Easy," Alaric said quietly, voice low and steady. "It's over. Let me see the hand."
Ronan stared at him for a second before finally loosening his grip. His fingers trembled as he lifted his injured palm.
Alaric's magic flowed over the wound like warm sunlight through water. The golden glow wrapped around torn flesh, sealing split skin inch by inch. Heat spread through Ronan's palm—gentle, almost numbingly soothing after the raw sting.
Ronan blinked. Once. Twice. The unnatural darkness lingering behind his eyes slowly receded. The sharpness faded.
His shoulders sagged against the wall as exhaustion descended all at once, heavy enough to hollow him out from the inside.
His gaze drifted across the room. It found Elenor.She was still standing farther back than before. The realisation settled quietly inside him. He looked away first. A dull ache spread through his chest that had nothing to do with injuries.
"Breathe," Alaric said, firm but calm. "The trial is finished."
Ronan exhaled. The breath shook on its way out.
He tilted his head back against the stone wall, eyes half-closing as healing light stitched the last of the damage together. Warmth lingered beneath his skin, but fatigue remained rooted deep inside him, untouched.
Mr. Arnold stepped forward. The chamber straightened around him. Even the exhausted students instinctively pulled themselves upright. "The examination is concluded." The words echoed faintly against old stone. Several students shifted, shoulders drooping with delayed relief. Arnold's gaze swept across them. "Most of you have passed." A small ripple moved through the group. "However..." His eyes settled on Elenor.
She stiffened immediately. Her gaze dropped to the floor.
"You failed to break the illusion." The words landed softly, but they still made her fingers tighten at her sides. Arnold's expression remained measured.
"Do not let this discourage you. You are the youngest among this cohort. These trials are designed to weaponise your own mind against you." He paused. "You simply require time to harden your will."
Elenor bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes, sir." Her voice was quiet, but steady.
Arnold nodded once before continuing. "As for Ronan…" His gaze shifted briefly toward him. "He triggered the Soul-Breaking variation of the trial." A faint murmur spread through the students.
"It is a level not intended for students," Arnold continued. "Under Academy regulations, surviving the variation grants an automatic passing result regardless of internal outcome."
The room fell silent again. No one seemed to know what to say. Most were too exhausted to question it. Arnold clasped his hands behind his back. "Dismissed."
The students began filtering out of the ancient structure.
Bootsteps echoed through the corridor. Quiet conversations started and died quickly. The rush of adrenaline was fading now, leaving behind trembling muscles and heavy limbs.
Ronan walked in silence. His healed hand flexed absently at his side. The skin had closed, but phantom pain lingered beneath it.
Outside, cool air brushed against overheated skin. The sky had sunk into twilight.
Clouds stretched across the horizon in bruised shades of gold and violet, fading slowly into deepening blue. The scent of damp earth drifted through the evening breeze.
Near the gate stood a tall figure. Arms crossed. Still. Auron Aldercrest. He did not move when the students emerged. His gaze locked onto Tavin and Andera immediately. The pressure of his presence carried across the distance without effort. Silent. Heavy. Familiar. Expectation wrapped around him like armour.
Tavin's shoulders tightened. Even from several paces away, the resemblance between brothers was unmistakable. Auron held his stare. Long enough to make the moment uncomfortable. Then he gave a single nod. "Congratulations."
He turned and walked away. Tavin watched him go until the figure disappeared down the road. Only then did he release a slow breath. His shoulders loosened.
Behind the others, Ronan walked alongside Orin and Elenor. The silence between them. Ronan kept his eyes lowered to the dirt path beneath his boots. Loose soil crunched softly underfoot. Evening insects hummed in nearby grass.
He could still see her face. That small step backwards. He replayed it without wanting to. He had frightened her. The realisation followed him with every step.
Elenor glanced toward him several times before finally gathering enough courage to speak. "What happened in the illusion?"
Ronan slowed. The question settled heavily in the air. He stopped walking. The horizon stretched before him, darkening beneath twilight. For a moment, he said nothing. His jaw tightened. Words pressed against the back of his throat but refused to come. He began walking again. "I'll tell you later."
"No." Elenor hurried ahead and planted herself directly in front of him.
Ronan nearly walked into her.
She puffed out her cheeks dramatically, arms spreading wide as if physically blocking escape.
"Aa—Aa! I want to know. I want to know now. Now, now, now." Her voice carried exaggerated outrage.
Ronan stared at her. For the first time since leaving the chamber, something softened in his expression. Tired amusement flickered faintly beneath the exhaustion. He sighed. Long and defeated. "Alright. Alright. I'll tell you." His shoulders lowered. A weak smile touched the corner of his mouth. "You really behave like a spoiled child sometimes. You know that?" Elenor grinned instantly.
The heaviness around her vanished as if it had never existed.
"Yes. I know."
"That was sarcasm," Ronan muttered.
"I'm interested too." Tavin slowed his pace and drifted closer.
He glanced at Ronan differently now.
Ronan rubbed at his temples. "Great," he murmured. "Now it's a storytelling session." He looked ahead toward the distant camp lights. "Fine. Let's get back first."
Behind them, the trial grounds grew quiet. The last students disappeared into the fading evening. Inside the stone building, the atmosphere shifted. The casual stillness vanished the moment the children were gone. The instructors gathered near the centre chamber.
Alden. Alaric. Ms. Rose. Arnold. And standing among them, hands folded behind his back, was Valmire.
Mr. Arnold stepped forward. His brow remained furrowed. "Valmire," he said, voice measured. "Why are you really here? You do not interfere with Academy examinations without reason."
Valmire hummed softly. His fingers stroked his chin. "Two reasons." He lifted one finger. "First, Serena. Second, Tavin." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And something unexpected."
"Serena?" Arnold asked.
Valmire nodded. "She possesses dual attributes. Fire and Water." His tone carried quiet interest. "Rare. Powerful. But she fights like a statue."
Ms. Rose folded her arms.
Valmire continued. "She relies too heavily on certainty. Too rigid. Too controlled. I wanted to see whether pressure would force adaptation."
"And?"
"She improved," Valmire admitted. "But only slightly. Her instincts still lag behind her talent."
"And Tavin?" Ms. Rose asked.
Valmire's expression shifted. "Tavin carries the blessing of the Water God." The room grew quieter. "The Luminal Covenant already watches him. I dislike what they turn gifted children into."
Valmire's voice lowered. "I did not care about his strength today. I wanted to see his character."
"And the unexpected discovery?" Alaric asked.
Valmire's eyes drifted toward the doorway where the students had disappeared. His expression became distant. "Ronan."
Silence settled over the room.
"He is an anomaly." No one interrupted.
Valmire folded his hands behind his back. "I thought he had surrendered to emotion." His gaze darkened slightly. "A berserker loses direction. Rage consumes reason." He looked toward the fading twilight beyond the doorway. "But that was not what I saw." His voice quieted. "He was thinking. Every movement had purpose."
A pause followed.
Long enough for unease to settle. "It felt as though his only goal was to kill her." The words lingered. "Whatever the cost." Valmire's gaze sharpened. "He would have burned himself to ash if it meant taking her down with him."
Arnold finally spoke. "There is nothing wrong with Ronan."
Valmire glanced toward him.
"You saw the seal on his hand," Arnold continued. "That seal suppresses emotion."
He hesitated briefly.
"Gedion once told me Ronan struggled with rage from childhood."
Arnold's expression turned thoughtful.
"One day, he discovered that seal within the archives of his previous academy."
A pause.
"And somehow… he applied it to himself perfectly."
No one spoke for several seconds. The quiet deepened.
Valmire's eyes lingered on Arnold. For reasons he did not voice, he chose not to press further. Perhaps respect. Perhaps caution.