It had been a week of brutal, bone-deep training.
Every sunrise brought combat drills in the scorched rings, fists slamming against stone, blood marking the sand. Every afternoon meant time in the Drakehall, studying the beasts in the sky—how they circled, how they watched, how they chose. And every evening, they limped back to the dorms with bruises on their skin and fire in their lungs.
There were no free days.
There were no free passes.
By the time the morning bell tolled on the seventh day, Seraphina felt less like a girl and more like a weapon—half-worn, half-honed, and ready to break something.
Or be broken.
The announcement came at dawn.
A message carved into light, hovering just above every recruit's bed:
TRIAL TWO BEGINS AT NIGHTFALL. REPORT TO THE STONE ASCENT BEFORE DUSK.
THIS TIME, YOU GO ALONE.
No one spoke much at breakfast.
The Great Hall was quieter than usual, tension creeping down every spine. Even the upper years weren't as loud. It was like the entire academy knew what was coming.
Seraphina picked at her bread. Across from her, Mira stared into her tea like it might offer answers.
"You think it's the forest?" Mira asked finally.
Cato leaned in. "It's always the forest. That's what they say."
"I thought it was different for each faction," Seraphina said, voice low.
Kaelen appeared behind them without warning, setting down a hunk of bread and dragging a chair backward with a loud scrape. "It is. But Drakestorm's Trial Two is always the same."
He looked directly at Seraphina.
"You go into the forest with nothing. No magic. No weapons. You walk until it chooses what you fear the most. And then it makes you face it."
Seraphina stared. "What do we bring?"
"You," Kaelen said simply. "And whatever you haven't figured out yet."
By dusk, the entire faction had gathered at the Stone Ascent—a long staircase carved into the mountainside that vanished into thick mist. The other recruits from different factions had already splintered off, taken to their own trial sites by their leaders and instructors. Moonveil vanished through a mirror lake. Ironthorn entered a spiraling cave system lined with glowing vines.
But Drakestorm?
Drakestorm faced the wild.
"You'll each be dropped in separate zones of the forest," Instructor Varik announced as the wind howled around them. "There are no rules. No directions. No one to help. You will survive the night, and you will return only if the forest lets you."
Seraphina tightened her jaw. Mira's hand brushed hers briefly—wordless, but firm. Cato bumped his shoulder into her with a forced grin.
"Last one out has to clean dragon pens," he whispered.
She smirked.
"Hope you like fire-proof gloves."
Above them, dragons circled.
Below them, the forest waited.
They were split one by one and assigned to transport circles—old runes carved into jagged stone slabs. One flicker of light, and they were gone, swallowed by the spell and dropped into the unknown.
Seraphina went last.
Lorian stood beside the circle as she stepped onto it, arms folded. His silver eyes searched hers for a moment—cold, assessing.
"You did well in training."
"Thanks."
"Trial One showed your strength," he said. "Trial Two will reveal your weakness."
She swallowed. "And if I don't have one?"
"Everyone does." A pause. "But if it's the wrong one… it'll devour you."
Then he stepped back.
The runes flared to life beneath her feet.
And the world fell away.
She landed hard.
Not on stone—but on earth. Thick, damp, wild. Trees stretched above her like spines. The sky was a murky black-purple, like twilight had gotten lost. Fog drifted in between gnarled roots, and the air felt too still—like even the wind held its breath.
No sound.
No birds.
No insects.
Just her heartbeat.
Seraphina turned slowly, muscles tense.
The forest was watching her.
Somewhere far in the dark, something moved. Not with footsteps—but like the shifting of shadows themselves.
A whisper scratched across the back of her mind.
"Come find what you are."
Her blood went cold.
This was Trial Two.
Not a test of strength.
A test of self.
She didn't know what it wanted.
She didn't know what she'd find.
But she took a breath, steadied her shoulders…
…and walked into the dark.
The trees closed in quickly.
Seraphina stepped carefully, branches snapping underfoot as fog slid through the roots like living breath. The deeper she went, the less the world looked real. Moss shimmered faintly. Leaves pulsed with veins of silver. Every path seemed to twist back on itself.
"Just shadows," she whispered aloud. "Just illusions."
But her voice sounded small. Fragile.
Something moved behind her. She spun—nothing. Then again, off to the left, the whisper of leaves brushing together.
Come find what you are…
She didn't run. She wouldn't run.
The Trial wasn't about running—it was about enduring. Proving that whatever the forest showed her, she could survive it.
She took a step forward. Another. Then the fog began to clear.
And that's when she saw it.
A figure standing just ahead—at the base of a tree so wide, it could have swallowed the academy whole. The figure's back was to her, long hair blowing gently. Familiar.
Too familiar.
Seraphina's breath hitched.
"No," she whispered. "That's not possible."
Because the figure turned—and it was her.
Her face. Her eyes. Her body.
But wrong.
This Seraphina's eyes glowed gold, crackling with power. Her expression was cold. Merciless. Her tunic was slashed down the front, soaked in blood—fresh, crimson, steaming.
She smiled without warmth.
"You could be this," the doppelgänger said.
Seraphina took a step back. "What—what are you?"
"What you could become, if you stop pretending to be small."
"I'm not pretending—"
"A girl with fire in her veins and dragonblood in her bones. And you act like you're still a nobody." She tilted her head. "I am what happens when you stop trying to please people. When you burn the ones who tried to break you."
The vision raised one hand—and fire exploded from her palm, lighting up the forest in gold and blood-orange. The trees caught instantly, but didn't burn. The flames danced in place, motionless.
Like they were waiting.
Seraphina's heart thudded. She raised her hands on instinct—and her own sparks flickered from her fingertips. Real. Feral.
"You want power?" her other self said. "Then stop apologizing for it."
Then the fire closed in.
She ran.
Not out of fear—but to escape the trap. This wasn't real, it was a mirror—a cruel one.
She darted through a thicket, cut her arm on a sharp branch, didn't stop. She didn't know where she was going, just that her magic pulsed in her chest like a second heart, aching to be unleashed.
When she stumbled into the next clearing, she nearly dropped to her knees.
Because now it wasn't a vision of power.
It was her family.
Her mother. Her brother. Her father. Sitting at a table in their old cottage, just as she remembered—before they'd fallen into ruin. Before the debts. Before her mother had looked at her like she was just another mouth to feed.
They didn't see her.
They didn't even notice her.
"She's not special," her mother said softly, slicing a piece of bread.
"Never was," her father replied.
Seraphina shook her head. "This isn't real."
"She'll end up like us. Better if she does. The powerful ones don't survive."
"She's not one of them."
"Stop," she whispered.
"She was always soft. Always begging for scraps. What would a dragon see in that?"
"STOP."
Magic blasted from her hands—raw and wild. The scene shattered like glass, splintering into a thousand glowing shards that melted into the fog.
Her knees hit the ground.
She was breathing hard now. Sweating. Shaking.
But alive.
Then, from somewhere deep within the forest, came a new sound.
Not a whisper.
A growl.
Low. Rumbling. Old.
The trees ahead split open like something had forced them aside.
A shape emerged—massive, scaled, black as void.
A dragon.
But not one from the Drakehall.
This one shimmered with ancient runes, its eyes glowing silver, its body cloaked in shadow-smoke. It didn't fly—it walked, slow and deliberate.
And it was looking right at her.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"You are not ready," the dragon said—not with its mouth, but in her mind.
Seraphina stood slowly, fists clenched.
"Then test me."
The dragon's wings unfurled—silent and massive. Its eyes narrowed.
"Next time, girl."
Then it vanished—no sound, no flame, just gone.
The fog cleared instantly.
The path appeared before her.
And her ring—the one marking her as a recruit—glowed faintly. She was being pulled out of the trial zone. The test was over.
She had survived.
She hadn't defeated her fear. She hadn't killed it. But she'd looked it in the eye and stood her ground.
That, apparently, was enough.
Seraphina stumbled forward as the transport rune activated, light rushing beneath her boots in spirals of silver and red.
In a blink, the forest was gone.
And the Stone Ascent was back beneath her feet—cold, moonlit, and scattered with ash from the torches burning along the cliffs. The night sky stretched endlessly overhead, streaked with faint stars. The ocean roared far below.
But the platform wasn't empty.
Dozens of recruits stood or sat nearby—some curled on the ground, others pacing in silence, a few crying into their hands. No one spoke loudly. There was a sacred stillness in the air. A heavy understanding.
Seraphina's boots crunched as she stepped forward.
She spotted Mira first—sitting on the edge of a low stone wall, arms wrapped around her knees, staring straight ahead.
"Mira," she said softly.
Her friend blinked once, then looked up. Her eyes were red, but dry. "You made it."
"So did you."
Mira let out a soft, hollow laugh. "Barely. It showed me my sister. The one who died in the river. I thought she was still alive. I followed her."
Seraphina sat beside her. "What happened?"
"I almost drowned." Mira's voice dropped. "The forest didn't want me to get out. It wanted me to stay there—stay in the lie."
Seraphina didn't know what to say. So she just placed her hand gently over Mira's.
Cato emerged from the trees a few minutes later, caked in mud, his left sleeve torn and bleeding from the shoulder. He looked pale and unsteady, but when he saw them, he managed a crooked grin.
"Did I win?"
Seraphina smirked. "You're not dead. Close enough."
"Mine turned into my brother," Cato said quietly, falling to sit cross-legged beside them. "Tried to guilt me for coming here. For leaving the family."
"Was it him?"
Cato shook his head. "Didn't matter. I almost listened."
By the time midnight arrived, only a fraction of the original recruits had returned.
Seven were still missing.
Three were confirmed withdrawn—found collapsed or unconscious by the forest wardens that patrolled the outer edge.
One had gone completely dark. No rune signal. No flare. Nothing.
The name was never spoken aloud, but everyone knew who it was.
A recruit from Group Two. A loud one. Arrogant. He'd mocked everyone during training.
Now… gone.
The fourth-year leaders reappeared just before dawn, standing along the edge of the platform with cloaks billowing in the wind. Kaelen Stormfire surveyed the weary recruits, his face hard but his voice firm.
"If you made it back, you passed."
"What you saw in that forest—whatever it gave you, whatever it took from you—it belongs to you now. Use it."
Lorian Nightshade stepped forward beside him.
"Some of you will never speak about what happened. That's fine. No one will ask. But if the forest changed you—good. It was meant to."
"You are not the same as when you entered," Kaelen finished. "Welcome to Drakestorm, Recruit. You've earned it."
The crowd didn't cheer.
They didn't need to.
They'd survived something most wouldn't understand.
As the sun broke over the cliffs, Seraphina looked down at her hands—still faintly glowing where the fire had erupted from her palms inside the trial.
She hadn't unleashed that kind of power since the crate. Since her magic had surged without warning.
It was growing. And she couldn't control it.
Yet the dragon… the one in the forest…
It had looked at her like it knew.
She wasn't sure if that was comforting or terrifying.
But one thing was clear.
Trial Two had opened something inside her. Something ancient. Something dangerous.
And it wasn't going back in.