The first test, as explained by a lean, hawk-eyed examiner clad in a cloak dyed in the faction's forest-green insignia, was deceptively simple: Retrieve the Ember Shard from the ruins of a toppled cathedral swarmed with Revenants—elemental ones, no less. The faction had long used this challenge as a measure of raw survival instinct, power control, and mental resolve. Candidates were permitted to work solo or in teams, but passing alone granted far greater prestige.
Kev, ever the one to forge his path with blistered hands and clenched fists, chose to go alone.
They stood at the edge of the fog-choked woodland where the cathedral ruins loomed in the distance like the skeletal ribcage of some long-dead god. Shadows flickered unnaturally between the shattered towers, and from within came the echo of guttural moans and low, thrumming howls that barely sounded human.
"You'll have an hour," the examiner said. "Fail to retrieve the shard, or die trying. Your decision, your risk."
