The bell rang once. It wasn't loud, yet it carried. Its sound slipped through the mist clinging to the forest canopy, rolled across the steel spires of the Fear Foundation, and settled deep in Seijuro's chest like a held breath that refused to release. The tone lingered, vibrating faintly in his bones long after the echo faded. He opened his eyes before it finished ringing. Dawn had barely broken. The sky above the Foundation was a pale, bruised blue, light bleeding slowly through the massive force field that enclosed the compound.
The barrier shimmered faintly, like heat rising from stone, refracting the morning light into fractured bands of color. From the hilltop where Seijuro had spent the night, the entire Foundation lay exposed beneath him. The training grounds were still empty. The lecture towers slept, their neon veins dim. The medic wing glowed softly, white and sterile against the dark metal around it.
Seijuro rose slowly, brushing dirt and fallen petals from his clothes. His body felt tight, not sore, not weak,
The exam is today…
That thought alone carried weight. He exhaled through his nose and started down the hill. By the time he reached the central plaza, the silence had fractured.
Candidates gathered beneath the massive circular platform suspended above the ground, its underside lined with glowing glyphs and humming machinery. Some stood in small clusters, murmuring in low voices. Others leaned against railings, arms crossed, eyes distant. A few stood completely alone, rigid as statues.
Seijuro didn't recognize most of them. That, too, felt deliberate. He counted without meaning to,
Twenty-three.
That was how many had shown up. His hand drifted unconsciously to the pendant beneath his shirt, the crescent moon warm against his skin. His fingers tightened briefly around it before he let it go. Ren's face surfaced uninvited. Seijuro swallowed and pushed the memory down. Not buried. Just held. A ripple passed through the crowd as the platform lowered with a low mechanical hum, settling just above ground level. The sound vibrated through the plaza floor, through Seijuro's boots, through his spine.
Two figures walked out a portal. Lisa.
She wore a long coat threaded with neon circuitry that pulsed faintly at the seams, the lines forming geometric patterns that shifted subtly with her movement. Her silver hair was tied back neatly, sharp eyes already sweeping across the candidates as if weighing them. Beside her stood Kenji.
No coat. Just dark combat wear and that same immovable posture. His presence pressed down on the plaza like gravity itself. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, but Seijuro felt it anyway. Lisa stepped forward,
"Good morning," she said, her voice calm and clear, carrying across the plaza without amplification. "If you're standing here, you already know what today is."
No one answered, "This is the Dreamcatcher Exam," Her gaze moved slowly across the crowd, kind, but clinical,
"It is a measure of control."
Kenji stepped forward then, "If you fail," he said flatly, "you don't retry tomorrow, but the following year.
A murmur rippled through the candidates, quiet, tense. Lisa didn't interrupt him,
"Tenebris is not forgiving," Kenji continued. "Push too far, and it pushes back. Memory degradation. Emotional collapse. Soul fracture. I'm sure you all know this."
Seijuro's jaw tightened. Silence returned, heavier this time, pressing down on the plaza. Lisa tapped her tablet once. A holographic ring expanded outward from the platform, encircling the plaza in pale purple light. Symbols flickered along its edge, glyphs Seijuro didn't recognize but felt, the air buzzing faintly as if charged,
"This exam is divided into phases," Lisa said. "You will not be told how many you'll face. You will not be told when they end."
She paused. "And you will not be told what we're looking for."
Somewhere behind Seijuro, someone shifted uneasily. Kenji's gaze landed on him. Just for a moment. Kenji raised his hand, "The first trial begins now."
The ring of light snapped inward. The plaza vanished. The sensation was brief, but absolute. Seijuro felt the ground fall away, his stomach lurching as space folded in on itself. Then, stillness. Everyone stood in a wide, circular chamber made of smooth black stone. The air was cool, heavy, unmoving. The walls curved upward endlessly, disappearing into shadow. Twenty-three figures stood spaced evenly around the room, each positioned atop a faintly glowing sigil etched into the floor. Only a single object in the center.
A bell.
Smaller than the one outside. Cracked. Old. Its surface was etched with worn symbols, dulled by time. A robotic female voice echoed, no longer coming from any single direction,
Trial One: Stillness
Seijuro lowered himself onto the sigil beneath him, folding his legs the way Frank had drilled into him month after month. He placed his sword in front of him. His hands rested lightly on his knees. He closed his eyes as instructed, feeling the stone beneath him warm faintly,
Do not draw it, do not suppress it… let it exist.
Almost immediately, Seijuro felt it, the familiar pressure beneath his ribs. The restless pull of shadow coiled within his chest, responsive, alert. Normally, he guided it. Contained it. Framed it with breath and focus. Now, he did nothing.
The pressure grew. Around him, he could hear it, breathing quickening, fabric shifting, a sharp inhale cut short. Someone across the chamber let out a strained sound, halfway between a gasp and a whimper. His chest tightened. The sigil beneath him flared brighter. Seijuro's hands trembled.
Then the bell rang. The air shifted. Seijuro felt it instantly. Tenebris tugging outward, like a tide pulled by something vast and unseen. Pressure built beneath his ribs, familiar yet sharper than before. Not violent. Not yet. Around him, breaths hitched. A faint, sickening sound followed.
Someone screamed. Seijuro's eyes snapped open. To his right, a boy staggered off his sigil, clutching his chest. Black veins spiderwebbed across his skin, spreading too fast, too wrong. His Tenebris poured out of him in ragged waves, unshaped and feral,
"No! No! Stop!" the boy gasped. The shadow consumed him. His body crumbled, flesh collapsing inward as if hollowed from the inside. Skin grayed, then cracked. In seconds, nothing remained but drifting black dust that scattered across the floor and vanished.
The sigil beneath him went dark. Seijuro's breath caught. The bell rang again. This time, Seijuro felt the pull harder. Tenebris surged, responding to memory, to instinct, to fear. Images flashed unbidden: Ren's scream, the weight of the sword, helplessness.
Across the chamber, another candidate collapsed to their knees. Her shadow spilled out violently, writhing like smoke caught in a storm. She screamed once, then her voice dissolved into nothing as her form rotted away, decaying from the inside outward, leaving only scorched stone and silence.
The room smelled faintly of iron and ozone. Seijuro clenched his jaw.
Breathe
Frank's voice surfaced in his mind, not words, but presence. He let the Tenebris settle. Not forced. Not denied. Accepted.
The pressure steadied. The bell rang a third time. Someone sobbed. Someone prayed. Two more sigils shattered. Decay followed, inevitable, merciless. Seijuro did not move. Sweat slid down his spine. His muscles screamed to act, to fight, to do something. But he remained still, letting the shadow within him exist without command. The bell rang again. When the pressure finally lifted, Seijuro's shoulders sagged slightly, breath leaving him in a slow, controlled exhale.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. For a moment, he was back in the woods, darkness answering his call too eagerly. He clenched his jaw. Breathe.
Frank's voice surfaced, unspoken but unmistakable. He exhaled slowly. The pressure didn't disappear. But it steadied.
Time stretched. Minutes passed, or hours. Seijuro couldn't tell. Sweat beaded at his temples, slid down his jaw. His legs ached from stillness. Somewhere to his left, a sigil shattered with a sharp crack of light.
A scream followed, short, panicked.
Then abruptly cut off. The weight in the room increased. Seijuro did not open his eyes. When the bell rang again, softer this time, his shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly,
"Trial One," Lisa said quietly, "is complete."
The pressure lifted. Seijuro opened his eyes. The chamber looked emptier than before. Twenty-three had entered. Seventeen remained. The bell rang once more. And the exam continued.