The next morning arrived.
After Day One (self-confrontation), the instructors quietly begin shifting each initiate's regimen based on observed weaknesses.
No announcements. No rituals. Just reassignments delivered personally or posted as a morning schedule.
Zavian found his name beside two words:
Kinetic Alcove — Rhian.
The alcove was a circular ring suspended above the western cliff—low gravity, shifting wind vectors, moving footholds.
Rhian gestured Zavian to enter the ring.
As soon as Zavian stepped into the ring, he almost fell immediately.
"You think too much." She said crossing her arms.
"Flow doesn't ask for certainty. It asks for presence"
By the third fall, Zavian stopped trying to predict.
By the fifth, he stopped trying to rationalize.
By the eighth, he moved.
By midday, he stopped analysing. He started responding.
He didn't know what shift happened exactly—but when the platform dropped again, his foot had already moved to where it needed to be.
No grace. No flourish.
But he didn't fall. That was enough.
Sayan entered his designated training area.
No instructor met him. No weapon was issued.
Just a silent hallway, and a room with no windows.
Just his breath. His heartbeat. The faint hum of stone.
He waited. He tried activating his flow. But there was no response.
The silence wasn't just quiet. It was intentional. It pushed in from all sides.
Eventually, he looked down at the black tesseract mark on his arm.
Still there. Still dormant.
But something about it felt… heavier than before.
Just then he realised, without motion, without manipulation... he didn't know what to do with himself.
Maybe that was the lesson.
Kaelen's name was listed under a place called Echo Ruins.
No instructor was mentioned. Just a time and a location.
He didn't ask questions. Just went where he was told.
The Echo Ruins were quiet, but not in a peaceful way.
They felt... off.
The broken walls and old pillars looked like they'd seen things. Like the place remembered something even if the people didn't.
He took a few steps in. His boots scraped against the stone.
The sound echoed longer than it should have.
Then came the voices.
Faint. Hollow. Mostly nonsense.
But some of them sounded real.
He kept moving, brushing them off at first.
Then something made him stop.
A sound—quick and sharp. A gasp, maybe.
It hit something in his chest.
He stood still for a while. Listening. Not just with his ears.
The ruins weren't trying to scare him.
They were trying to remind him of something. Or maybe pull something out of him.
He didn't fight it. Didn't push forward.
Just stood there and let it settle.
By the time he walked out, nothing big had changed.
But part of him felt like it had shifted — like something small had finally started to open.
Elyria's name was written beside a place called Frostwell Hall.
No one explained what it was.
She didn't ask.
The hall was wide and cold.
Not freezing — but still. Too still.
The kind of quiet that presses on your ears.
She walked alone through the space.
On both sides of the hall, tall glassy frost panels lined the walls.
Reflections moved inside them.
Some looked like people she knew.
Most didn't.
At first, she ignored them. Focused straight ahead.
But the longer she walked, the more the reflections started to change.
They showed moments.
Not clear ones. But she could feel the emotions—like heat and cold pressed through the ice.
One of the silhouettes stopped her.
She didn't know who it was for sure.
But it felt familiar. Warm. Almost kind.
She stood there for a while.
Didn't reach out. Didn't look away.
The shard she carried stayed grounded.
Her hands didn't move.
But her breathing slowed.
Something inside her chest softened — just slightly.
She didn't unlock a new ability.
Didn't rise above the silence.
But for the first time… she felt something clearly.
Not from someone else. From herself.
And for today, that was enough.
Riven's name was listed next to a place called Radiant Maze.
No instructor. Just the location.
He wasn't nervous. He even smirked when he saw it.
"Maze. Sounds fun."
When he got there, though, it wasn't what he expected.
The halls inside weren't made of stone — they were glassy, curved, and covered in faint light.
The reflections were everywhere.
Sometimes he saw himself, sometimes someone else.
Sometimes… nothing at all.
He tried his usual way through at first—quick feet, fast turns, a bit of flair.
It didn't work.
Every time he thought he had the right angle, the path shifted.
He ended up back where he started more than once.
He started to get frustrated.
Not angry — just stuck.
That's when he heard her voice.
Kaelith Dravara, somewhere in the maze. He couldn't see her.
"The stars don't care if you shine," she said.
"They care if you arrive."
He didn't answer. Just stood there.
Then, without thinking, he took a slow breath, closed his eyes…
and walked.
No moves. No tricks. Just movement.
After a while, the path stopped shifting.
Or maybe he just stopped fighting it.
When he stepped out of the maze, he wasn't smiling.
But he wasn't lost anymore either.
The next two days passed in the same manner.
The initiates were instructed not to leave their training areas during these three days.
The initiates were now more familiar with their weakness and knew how to keep them in check.
They were not assigned these three days to completely master their said weaknesses.
They were assigned these three days to get familiar with their vulnerabilities. Understand them. So, no aspect of the Trine remained dormant or superfluous.
Because the next step required the candidates to be intimate with all the aspects of the Trine.
Zavian was now able to move without hesitation. He was able to think as an instinct. His Flow improved. His pulse became clearer. His mark still dormant, but began to flicker.
Quietly confident. He was not there yet, but something was beginning to align inside him.
Sayan began observing the stillness and the silence. He became one with them. He was now able to see the space inhabited by the stillness. His pulse became clearer, but not fully awakened. His Mark became his anchor, steadying him even when nothing moved.
Frustrated by the lack of feedback, but slowly realizing that silence is teaching him something deeper than control.
Kaelen was now capable of experiencing emotional resonance through echoes of others and himself. His Pulse began developing. His mark, was not yet awakened but was now more profound and Kaelen acknowledged it.
Holding back less. Realizes he's not as unreadable as he thought.
Elyria made breakthrough in how she perceived emotion. Her pulse was improving. Her mark, inactivated but began to stir.
Trying to feel without breaking. Letting herself react more, without seeing it as failure.
Riven Dace was finally accepting movement without control. His mark reacted subtly, but was not yet stable.
Less performative, more present. He's not losing who he is — he's uncovering more of it.
On Day Five.
The instructors didn't need to shout anymore.
The initiates no longer needed directions.
They had seen where they stood.
Now came the second stage.
Each initiate was ordered back to open training grounds — no chambers, no rooms, no silence.
Zavian was no longer watched by Sentry Rhian.
He no longer stumbled over motion.
His steps were swifter. His weight better balanced. There was no resistance to his Flow now.
But today, something else happened.
During his drill today, he sensed the rhythm of the terrain before it shifted.
He didn't consciously think about it, his body just adjusted on instinct.
He could already map the space without realising.
Echotrace- his Mark had flared briefly.
He didn't stop, but he knew.
The stillness wasn't frustrating for Sayan anymore.
It had settled.
His Mark was no longer just a scar. It was present.
In open movement drills, he moved with calm precision.
Balanced. Centered.
Then came the shift — just for a second.
A sudden pull of weight in the air. Unseen.
He paused — and in that moment, two outcomes played in his head:
One where he slipped. One where he didn't.
He chose before either could finish.
Pulse. Not clear. But definitely there.
It hadn't erupted.
It had revealed itself.
Kaelen moved through the fog-covered field, slower today.
Not because he was unsure—because he was listening.
His Pulse picked up every shift in air, every small change in ground pressure.
Near the center of the slope, the ground dipped.
He didn't think. He adjusted.
Weight shifted. Balance held.
His arm felt different—heavier, but steady.
No light. No reaction.
Just presence.
His Mark had activated. Quiet. Firm.
Like it had always been waiting.
He kept walking.
Elyria entered the training field alone.
There were no instructors today. Only open space and silence.
The snow had settled unevenly. Small gusts pressed against her boots as she moved.
She did not rush. She didn't need to.
She had mastered Flow. Every movement she made followed clean lines. No waste. No hesitation.
But still, something felt incomplete.
She could feel Ether in motion, but she couldn't always sense where it began. Or where it led.
She stopped at the center of the field and closed her eyes.
Her breath slowed. Her hands relaxed.
There was no sound. But she waited. Not for instruction—but for something deeper to shift.
Then, faintly, a pulse moved around her.
Not external. Not physical.
It came from presence—intent, emotion, friction in the air.
She opened her eyes. The field looked the same.
But now, it felt different.
Slight tension to the left. Something watching from behind.
Not eyes. Not footsteps. Just Ether.
Her Pulse had stirred.
She didn't smile. She didn't speak. She simply exhaled and moved again.
For the first time since arriving, she was no longer only reacting.
She was beginning to perceive.
Riven stood alone in a circular training chamber built of pale stone and mirrored glass.
He had been sent here with no instructions. No target.
No Ether to manipulate. No obstacle to overcome.
The floor was polished and uneven. His reflection followed him with every step.
Each time he moved, the light bent around him slightly out of sync.
He had grown used to these patterns. His Flow was quicker now—less wild, more exact.
But something lingered beneath the surface. Something unspoken.
He stopped near the center of the chamber. His gaze drifted upward, past the arches, past the open skylight.
Stars still faint in the early sky.
Then it happened.
As he turned to face the far end of the chamber, his heel slipped—just slightly.
There had been no shift in the floor. No Ether burst.
But his body adjusted before he could think.
Not Flow. Not reaction. Something else.
A thread of awareness. A pull through the air before anything changed.
Pulse.
It was faint. Not fully formed.
But it had answered.