The bell did not ring.
That alone unsettled everyone.
Blackhollow Keep ran on sound. On routine. On the certainty that when the bell rang, pain followed—and when it did not, something worse was coming. Kael lay awake long before dawn, staring at the ceiling, counting the breaths of the others without meaning to.
Nyx was awake too. He could feel it. Some people had a presence even in stillness.
Borin shifted on his cot, a low grunt escaping him as he rolled onto his side. The stone beneath the keep trembled faintly, then settled again, as if responding to his discomfort.
Elyra sat upright against the wall, knees drawn to her chest, eyes open and unfocused.
"They're choosing today," she said quietly.
Kael turned his head. "Choosing what?"
She swallowed. "Who breaks."
No one argued.
When they finally emerged into the courtyard, it was immediately obvious that something had changed.
There were fewer trainees.
Not dramatically fewer—but enough that the gaps were visible. Beds unclaimed. Weapons racks untouched. The kind of absence that felt deliberate rather than accidental.
Captain Maelor stood alone on the platform.
No mentors flanked her. No guards stood close.
Her posture was relaxed. That worried Kael more than tension would have.
"You've noticed the empty spaces," she said calmly. "Good. It means you're paying attention."
No one spoke.
"Some of those trainees were injured," Maelor continued. "Some were removed. One died two nights ago after attempting to 'prove himself' during unsupervised drills."
A sharp inhale rippled through the group.
"He was warned," Maelor added. "He did not listen."
She let her gaze move slowly across the yard, resting on faces, on posture, on people who still thought effort was enough.
"Today is not about strength," she said. "Today is about pressure."
The mentors stepped out from the shadows then—not as a united front, but scattered, watching from different angles. Serah leaned against a post. Grend stood with his hammer resting against the ground. Hadrik watched from a balcony above, arms folded.
"You will be given orders," Maelor said. "Some will contradict each other. Some will put others at risk. Some will offend you."
She paused.
"If you believe training exists to protect you, leave now."
No one moved.
A man near the back—older than most, scars etched deep into his face—stepped forward.
"I withdraw," he said.
The yard froze.
Maelor turned to him. "Name."
"Jerrik Hale."
"Reason?"
Jerrik's hands trembled, but his voice did not. "I wanted to be a hunter because I thought it would give my life meaning. But all I feel here is myself disappearing."
Silence stretched.
Maelor studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "Accepted."
Jerrik bowed—once—to the mentors, then turned and walked out of the keep without another word.
No one mocked him.
Grend watched him go. "Smart man."
Training began immediately.
No explanation. No warm-up.
Kael was ordered to take command of a mixed group—half trainees he knew, half he didn't. Among them were three who had already shown hostility toward his group, their eyes sharp with resentment.
"You have ten minutes," Maelor said. "Clear the ravine path."
Kael assessed the terrain quickly—loose rock, blind corners, elevated ledges. A poor place to rush.
"Slow advance," Kael said. "Eyes up. No heroics."
One of the hostile trainees snorted. "You afraid?"
Kael ignored him.
They moved forward carefully—until a shout rang out behind them.
"Now!"
Someone triggered a trap early.
The ravine erupted into chaos.
Stone fell. A trainee screamed as debris clipped his leg, sending him tumbling. Another slipped, barely catching the edge before falling further.
Kael reacted instantly.
"Borin!" he shouted. "Brace the slope!"
Borin slammed his hammer down, face contorting as the earth responded reluctantly. The ground held—but Borin cried out, dropping to one knee as pain shot through his arms.
Nyx appeared beside the fallen trainee, hauling him to safety before vanishing again as another rock fell where she'd stood.
Elyra shouted a warning a heartbeat before a second trap triggered.
When it was over, the ravine was a mess of dust, blood, and broken formation.
One trainee lay sobbing, clutching his leg at an unnatural angle.
Kael rounded on the hostile group. "Who triggered it?"
No one answered.
Maelor approached slowly, stepping over rubble as if it didn't exist.
"You adapted," she said to Kael. "Slowly."
She turned to the injured trainee. "You'll live."
To the others: "You failed to maintain cohesion."
The hostile trainee smirked. "That wasn't—"
Maelor backhanded him without warning.
The sound echoed.
"You don't get to explain," she said coldly. "Hunters don't argue with outcomes."
The man staggered, stunned.
"Again," Maelor said.
Borin's training nearly ended him.
Grend forced him to channel earth continuously—long past safe thresholds. Borin's hands shook violently, blood trickling from his nose as the ground pulsed in response.
"Stop," Elyra whispered from nearby.
Borin shook his head. "If I stop, it collapses."
"Then let it," Grend said.
Borin hesitated.
The structure fell.
No one was hurt.
Borin collapsed afterward, sobbing openly, clutching his arm as if it no longer belonged to him.
Grend knelt beside him. "You chose people over pride."
Nyx's breaking point was different.
Kerris forced her to remain visible during a simulated ambush. No shadows. No escape.
She took hit after hit, bruises blooming across her ribs and shoulders.
"Disappear!" someone shouted instinctively.
She didn't.
Her legs buckled near the end, but she stayed.
When it was over, she sat on the ground shaking—not from pain, but from having nowhere to hide.
Elyra's test was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her mentor pushed her deeper than ever before, spirits crowding close, voices overlapping.
Something tore.
Elyra screamed.
When she came back to herself, tears streamed down her face.
"I can't remember my brother," she whispered. "Not his name. Not his face."
Her mentor's expression softened—just slightly. "Then he's gone. And you're still here."
Kael's breaking point came last.
He was ordered to fire.
The target: a moving silhouette that mimicked a trainee running across the range.
"Loose," Serah said quietly.
Kael's breath hitched.
"That shot could kill someone," he said.
Serah met his eyes. "And hesitation could kill more."
Kael lowered the bow.
"I won't," he said.
Silence fell.
Maelor stepped forward slowly. "You refuse?"
"Yes."
Maelor studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Good."
Renn—still injured, watching from the sidelines—laughed bitterly. "Of course."
That night, the trainees were gathered once more.
More names were missing.
Maelor's voice carried clearly.
"Tomorrow, training ends."
A pause.
"The weapons will decide who you are."
High above, unseen, Hadrik muttered to Serah:
"If the mark wakes before the weapon—"
Serah didn't let him finish.
Kael felt the warmth between his shoulders pulse.
Once.
Like a heartbeat.