The dream always started with the same suffocating heat.
Rein felt the sting of smoke in his throat. He was running. His mother's hand was a tight, trembling anchor in his own. Then, a shadow blocked the moonlight. A cold blade flashed, a scream cut through the air, and the hand he was holding suddenly went cold and limp.
Rein Aldric snapped his eyes open.
He sat up fast, gasping for air as his heart hammered against his ribs. His shirt was soaked with sweat, sticking to his skin in the chilly air of the orphanage dorm.
"The nightmare again?"
Rein turned. Across the small, cramped room, Orin Veyron was already up. Orin was his best friend—the only person who really knew him. While Rein was lean and spent his time buried in books, Orin was built like an athlete, his muscles already showing the results of years of hard training.
"Yeah," Rein muttered, rubbing his face. "Every time I get stressed, it comes back."
"Well, today is the ultimate stress test," Orin said, standing up and cracking his knuckles. "The exam results are being posted this morning. Let's go find out if we're moving out of this dump."
They walked down to the main hall together. The courtyard was already packed with other orphans. Everyone was silent, their eyes glued to the large wooden board where the government had pinned the passing list.
For people like them, this exam was everything. Passing meant a life of honor in the elite forces. Failing meant staying in the slums forever.
Orin pushed through the crowd first. A second later, he let out a sharp breath and grinned. "I'm in, Rein! Rank 12!"
Rein's heart leaped. If Orin made it, surely he did too. He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the paper. He looked at the top. Nothing. He looked at the middle. Nothing. He reached the very bottom of the list, his breath hitching.
His name wasn't there.
The noise of the cheering crowd suddenly felt miles away. A cold, heavy weight settled in his stomach.
"I... I didn't make it," Rein whispered.
Orin's smile vanished instantly. He grabbed Rein's shoulder. "Wait, that can't be right. You're the top student in the history classes! Maybe there's another page?"
Rein shook his head, staring at the blank space where his future should have been. "There isn't another page, Orin. I failed."
Unable to stomach the "pity" looks from the other kids, Rein spent the rest of the day wandering the city. The sun began to set, casting long, orange shadows over the dusty streets of the lower district.
He was so lost in his own failure that he almost walked right into a confrontation.
In a narrow alleyway just ahead, three rough-looking men had cornered an old man in tattered clothes. The old man was clutching a small bag to his chest, his hands shaking.
"Give it here, old man, or we'll break your fingers one by one," the leader sneered.
Rein stopped. His common sense told him to run. He wasn't a fighter. But as he looked at the old man, he remembered his mother's hand going limp in his dream. He couldn't just watch.
"Hey! Leave him alone!" Rein shouted.
The thugs turned, laughing. "Look at this brat. You want to be a hero?"
Rein didn't wait. He rushed the leader, swinging a desperate punch. It caught the man by surprise, hitting his jaw with a loud crack. But before Rein could follow up, the other two stepped in.
A heavy boot caught Rein in the stomach. He hit the ground, the world spinning. A fist slammed into his ribs, and he tasted blood.
"Nice try, kid," the leader spat, stepping over him to deliver a final kick. "But you're too weak to play hero."
Suddenly, the leader was gone.
A blur of motion sent the man flying back into a pile of wooden crates. Orin stood there, his face calm but his eyes furious. He didn't say a word—he just moved. In three seconds, the other two thugs were on the ground, groaning in pain.
Orin reached down and pulled Rein up. "You really have a habit of getting into trouble the moment I'm not looking."
Rein wiped blood from his lip, feeling a mix of gratitude and burning shame. "I had it under control."
"Sure you did," Orin smirked.
They walked back to the orphanage in silence as the moon rose. Back in their room, the reality of the situation finally hit. Orin's bag was packed.
"I leave for the Academy at dawn," Orin said softly, sitting on his bed. "The training is four months long. No visitors. No breaks."
Rein sat across from him, looking at his bruised knuckles. "Four months. While you're becoming an officer, I'll just be here."
"No," Orin said firmly. "Listen to me. There is a second exam in four months. It's the 'Last Chance' test. It's harder, but if you pass, you can join the mid-year intake."
Orin stood up and looked Rein dead in the eye.
"I'm going to the Academy to get stronger. You stay here and do the same. Don't just study books this time. Train. Find a teacher. When I come back in four months, I expect to see you ready for that exam."
Rein felt a spark of heat in his chest—a different kind of heat than the fire in his dreams. It was determination.
"Four months," Rein repeated. He looked at Orin and managed a small, determined smile. "Fine. But don't get too ahead of me. I'm going to pass that test and catch up to you."
Orin laughed and held out a fist. Rein bumped it.
The path ahead was going to be brutal, but for the first time since he woke up that morning, Rein Aldric felt like he was finally moving forward.