The wagon rode for a long time. Syn didn't know how much time had passed. In the enclosed space, it was impossible to track the sun's movement. He sat motionless, listening to the creak of the wheels and the muffled sounds of the streets outside. Gradually, the noise of the Citadel faded. The voices of merchants, the clang of forges, the tramping of many feet—all that was left behind. Now, only the steady clatter of hooves on stone could be heard.
Some of the teenagers whispered among themselves. The fair-haired boy who had mocked Syn was telling his friends about how his father, a Master of the Solar Flame clan, had personally blessed him before his departure. His voice was smug, full of confidence.
«They've predicted a Fire Aspect for me. Strong, pure. I'll be a Hero by twenty. Maybe even sooner.»
His friends nodded in agreement. One of them, a plump boy with a ruddy face, added:
«My father sent me to toughen me up. Says the Institute makes warriors out of weaklings.»
Syn listened with half an ear. Their talk was empty. Childish fantasies of glory and power. They didn't yet understand what they'd gotten into. Hadn't seen death. Didn't feel the cold of the Brand.
"They'll learn. Soon."
The girl next to him was still trembling. Syn cast a brief glance at her. She was gripping the edge of her tunic, her knuckles white. A Brand was visible on her neck, a thin black line like a slender cord wrapped around her throat.
«What's your name?» he asked quietly.
The girl flinched, as if not expecting anyone to speak to her.
«L-Lira,» she whispered.
«Where are you from?»
«Lower Yoke. It's… a small mining town near the quarries.»
Syn nodded. Lower Yoke. He'd heard of it. A place almost as hopeless as the slums. Workers broke stone until they died, and their children starved.
«How did you get the Brand?»
Lira swallowed.
«An Outburst… hit the quarry. I was nearby. Many died. I… survived.»
Her voice trembled. Syn understood. She had seen death. Seen people around her fall, their bodies twisted inside out by the anomaly. And she had survived. And now bore the Brand.
«Lucky you,» Syn said dryly.
Lira looked at him with wide eyes.
«Lucky? I… I didn't want this. I wanted to stay home. With my mother.»
«No one asked what you wanted. The Brand chose you. Now your life belongs to the Order.»
Lira turned away, pressing her palms to her face. Her shoulders shook. Syn didn't add anything. Pity was useless. At the Institute, they'd break her if she didn't learn to hold herself together.
"But she's not my problem."
The wagon jerked to a stop. Voices could be heard outside. Then the door swung open, and bright light struck their eyes.
«Out. Quickly.»
The teenagers began climbing out, squinting in the light. Syn was one of the last to exit. He stepped onto the ground and looked around.
The Institute rose before him.
It was a fortress. A massive structure of grey stone, with tall towers at the corners and crenelated walls. The windows were narrow, like arrow slits. A huge shield bearing the symbol of the Order, carved from black metal, hung above the main gates. Training fields stretched around the Institute. Level grounds covered in packed sand, obstacle courses, wooden dummies for combat practice.
Everything was severe, functional, devoid of beauty. A place created for a single purpose: to turn raw material into weapons.
Syn felt something tighten in his chest.
"Lian studied here. Walked these courtyards. Trained on these fields."
He clenched his fists.
A man in a dark blue uniform stood before the gates. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a straight back. His hair was grey, cropped short. His face was stern, with deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. Silver insignia gleamed on his chest. High rank.
He surveyed the group of teenagers with a cold gaze. No one dared to move.
«I am Instructor Varen,» he said. His voice was low, hard as a hammer blow. «From this moment on, you will forget who you were before. You are no longer clan children. No longer slum children. You are candidates. Raw material. And my task is to determine if you are good for anything.»
He stepped forward, hands behind his back.
«Most of you will die. During the Awakening Ceremony. During training. During your first mission. This is not a threat. It's statistics. Out of a hundred branded with the Mark of the Abyss, twenty survive. Out of those twenty, ten become full resonators. The rest break, go mad, or become cripples.»
He stopped in front of the fair-haired boy.
«What's your name?»
The boy straightened up, trying to look confident.
«Erik Solaris, son of Master…»
«I don't care about your father,» Varen cut him off. «Here, you are nobody. Understood?»
Erik paled but nodded.
«Yes, Instructor.»
Varen moved on, stopping before each one. Looking them over, assessing. When he reached Syn, he paused a second longer. His eyes narrowed.
«A Brand on the neck,» he muttered. «Rare placement.»
Syn met his gaze without looking away.
Varen smirked.
«Stubborn. Good. Stubbornness is sometimes more useful than talent.»
He stepped back and turned to the whole group.
«Follow me. You will be quartered in the common barracks. Tomorrow morning, the Awakening Ceremony begins. Until then, rest. This is the last peaceful day of your lives.»
He turned and strode towards the gates. The teenagers followed him.
The barracks were a long, low barrack with rows of bunk beds. Wooden, roughly nailed together, with thin mattresses. A small chest for personal belongings stood by each bed.
Syn got an upper bunk by the far wall. He climbed up and sat cross-legged. Around him, other teenagers settled in, whispering; someone was crying quietly. Lira climbed onto the bunk opposite and curled into a ball, hugging her knees.
Syn took Lian's locket from inside his shirt and hid it in the chest, at the very bottom. Then he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
"Tomorrow, the Ceremony."
He didn't know exactly what awaited him. The plan said the Ceremony was conducted in special chambers where the neophyte was immersed in the Essence of the Rift. The System scans the soul and determines the Aspect.
"But I already have an Aspect. The shadow gave it to me."
The question was, what would the System show? Would it see the true nature of his power? Or only the surface?
"Keeper of the Threshold."
The words sounded in his head again. Syn closed his eyes and tried to feel the shadow within. It was there, on the edge of his consciousness. Silent, still. But he felt its weight. A cold presence that never left him.
"What do you want from me?"
There was no answer.
Syn sighed and forced himself to relax. Tomorrow would be a long day. He needed strength.
He dozed off to the sounds of quiet conversations and sobs. His dreams were fragmentary, anxious. Lian walking down a dark corridor. Her voice calling him. A shadow following her. And himself, running, but unable to catch up.
Morning began with a loud blow to a gong. The sound reverberated through the barracks, making everyone jump. Syn opened his eyes and sat up. His head buzzed from lack of sleep, but he forced himself to stand.
Instructor Varen stood at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest.
«Up! You have ten minutes to wash and form up in the yard. Latecomers will be punished.»
The teenagers rushed to the washbasin, pushing and cursing. Syn didn't hurry. He waited for the crowd to thin, then calmly washed with cold water and went out.
Other groups of candidates were already forming up in the yard. A hundred people, maybe more. All in grey tunics, with Brands on various parts of their bodies. Syn fell in line next to Lira. She still looked frightened but was holding herself together.
Varen walked along the line, checking everyone. Then he stopped in the center and raised his hand.
«Today you will undergo the Awakening Ceremony. You will be called in groups of five. When your name is called, follow the assistant to the chambers. The Ceremony takes about an hour. If you survive, you will be returned here. If not…»
He didn't finish the sentence. There was no need.
Syn clenched his fists.
"It begins."
Varen unrolled a scroll and began reading names. The first group of five stepped out of line and followed an assistant, a young resonator in a white coat. They disappeared into one of the Institute's buildings.
About forty minutes passed before they returned. Four. The fifth was missing.
Syn looked at their faces. Pale, sweaty, with dilated pupils. One girl was holding onto the wall to keep from falling. A new Brand blazed on her arm, brighter and clearer than before.
"One dead. Four survived."
Varen continued reading names. Group after group left and returned. Not all returned. From the second group, three came back. From the third, two.
Finally, Syn's name was called.
«Syn. Lira. Erik Solaris. Tarn. Alice. Fifth group, follow.»
Syn stepped out of line. Lira stood next to him, trembling like a leaf. Erik Solaris walked with his head held high, but Syn noticed his hands clenched into fists. The other two, Tarn and Alice, were unfamiliar. Both from the slums, judging by their appearance.
An assistant, another resonator in a white coat, nodded to them.
«Follow me.»
They entered the building. A long corridor with stone walls. Faint lighting from glowing crystals embedded in the ceiling. The air was cold, smelling of metal and something acrid.
At the end of the corridor was a door. Massive, of black metal, covered in runes. The assistant pushed it, and the door slowly opened.
Beyond it stretched a large, circular room. In the center stood five stone cisterns filled with glowing liquid. The Essence of the Rift. It shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, but silvery and blue hues predominated.
Resonators in black robes stood around the cisterns. Observers. Their faces were hidden by hoods. Only their eyes glowed with a dim, cold light.
The assistant pointed to the cisterns.
«Each to one. Undress to the waist. Enter the Essence and submerge completely. The System will do the rest.»
Syn approached one of the cisterns. Removed his tunic, baring his thin torso. The Brand on his neck blazed, the black skeletons stirring as if sensing something.
He looked at the Essence. The liquid slowly swirled, emitting a soft glow. It seemed alive.
Syn took a breath and stepped into the cistern.
The Essence was cold. Icy. It enveloped his legs, then rose higher, to his chest. He continued to submerge until the water closed over his head.
And the world disappeared.
Silence. Absolute. Darkness. He felt no body. Heard no heartbeat. There was only consciousness, floating in the void.
And then a voice appeared.
Not the shadow's voice. Another. Cold, mechanical.
«Scan initiated. Soul analysis. Aspect determination.»
Images flashed before him. His past. The slums. Lian. Her departure. Her disappearance. Pain, rage, despair.
«Emotional profile: loss, search, stubbornness.»
The images changed. Now he saw the shadow. A tall figure of pure darkness, reaching out a hand.
«Anomaly detected. External interference. Unknown source.»
The System's voice became sharper.
«Unable to classify. Rescanning.»
Pain. Sharp, piercing. As if something had plunged into the very core of his being and begun to turn him inside out.
Syn screamed, but there was no sound.
«Aspect determined. Category: Shadow. Subcategory: Unclassifiable. Designation assigned: "Keeper of the Threshold." Status: Anomaly.»
The darkness exploded with light.
And Syn regained consciousness.
He was lying on the cold floor next to the cistern, gasping for air. His whole body trembled. The Brand on his neck blazed, the skeletons moving as if dancing.
One of the Observers leaned over him. The eyes under the hood glowed.
«Stand,» he ordered.
Syn rose with difficulty. His legs gave way, but he steadied himself.
The Observer wrote something in a journal.
«Aspect: Shadow. Anomaly. Forward data to the Special Department.»
Syn felt a chill in his chest.
"The Special Department. The ones who oversaw Lian's expedition."
He gritted his teeth.
"Good. Let them notice me. It will be easier to get to the truth that way."
He was led to the exit. Lira stood nearby, alive but pale. A new pattern glowed on her Brand. Erik Solaris was breathing heavily, a fiery symbol blazing on his chest. Tarn and Alice were gone.
Two dead. Three survived.
Syn left the building and returned to the yard.
The Ceremony was complete.
He was no longer a candidate.
He was an Apprentice of the Order of Resonance.
And his journey had only just begun.