Morning in Aetherion was anything but peaceful.
Kael was jolted from sleep by a horn blast that shook the very stones of the dormitory. He fell off the cot, groaning. His wings flickered into existence for a moment, slamming into the wall.
"Up. Now."
Elira stood over him, already armored, sword strapped to her back. Her silver hair was tied in a tight braid, her violet eyes sharp with purpose.
"Did we sign up for war while I was asleep?" Kael muttered, crawling to his feet.
She threw a folded uniform at his face. It hit him with surprising weight.
"First day of classes. You don't want to be late for Crucible Protocol. If you're tardy, they throw you into the Shard Pits."
"That sounds... excessive."
She shrugged. "That's Aetherion."
Kael suited up. The uniform was char-black and crimson-lined, tailored to fit snugly while allowing room for transformation. His back itched where his wings had started forming. He fastened the belt, noticing it pulsed faintly with glyphs—likely suppression seals in case a student lost control.
They joined a throng of other first-years in the central square. Students came in all shapes—some had scaled limbs, others tails or horns. Kael even saw one with glowing eyes and hair that moved like mist.
A podium formed from molten stone rose at the front. On it stood a man. Or rather, something in the shape of a man.
He was tall, skeletal-thin, cloaked in robes made of ember-thread. Flames danced in the hollows of his eyes. His presence made Kael's skin crawl.
"Welcome, fledglings," the figure rasped. "I am Headmaster Zareth Varn. You are not students. Not yet. You are liabilities. Broken tools. Raw kindling."
He raised a hand, and a wave of fire washed over the crowd. Some students screamed, shielding themselves. Kael stood firm, feeling it pass through him like a challenge.
"Only through discipline shall you earn flame. Fail, and you will be consumed by it."
The fire vanished. Zareth gestured, and eight instructors stepped forward, each bearing a unique insignia.
"You will be assigned Houses. Not for camaraderie. For survival. Each house is ruled by a Talon. They will mold you—or destroy you."
Names were called. Students pulled into groups. Elira was summoned to House Vaelthorn—unsurprisingly, her family's domain.
Kael's name rang out last.
"Kael Raventhorn—House Umbraflame."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
He stepped forward. The instructor waiting was cloaked in midnight scales, eyes hidden behind a visor of obsidian. Her voice was cold.
"You will follow me."
House Umbraflame was located in the shadow of the Crucible tower, built into a cliff of black stone. Inside, it resembled a labyrinth—corridors that twisted like dragon intestines, doors that whispered when passed.
Kael was led to a chamber lit by hanging braziers. Seven others were already inside—his housemates.
A girl with white hair and crimson eyes sat on a floating book, legs crossed, bored.
A hulking lizardman dozed in the corner, snoring steam.
Two twins whispered to each other in a strange language, their horns clicking as they moved.
Then there was the quiet one—masked, wrapped in dark silk, watching everyone.
Their instructor stood before them.
"I am Talon Nysera. You are Umbraflame. We are shadow and fire. Precision and destruction."
She snapped her fingers. Flames leapt into the center of the room, forming a rotating sigil.
"This is the Flame Pact. You will swear upon it. Break your word, and your core fractures."
Kael stepped forward. One by one, the others followed. When it was his turn, the fire pulsed.
[Flame Pact Detected: Bloodline anomaly present]
Nysera's eyes narrowed. "Your blood is unstable. This pact may hurt."
Kael grit his teeth and reached forward.
Pain shot through his veins like molten iron. Images burst in his mind—dragons chained, fire devouring cities, a crimson moon.
He screamed but didn't pull back.
Then—silence. The flame turned black, then gold. The pact accepted him.
Nysera stared for a long time. "You are more than you seem."
Kael exhaled. "So I've been told."
Training began immediately.
Kael was thrown into drills—combat, flight control, core stabilization. He dueled the lizardman—whose name was Grath—and barely survived.
He sparred with the white-haired girl, who fought with enchanted chains and illusions.
He failed most of his trials.
But he learned.
His fire no longer flared out of control. He could call it to his hands, shape it into a blade. His wings could hold him aloft for a few seconds now. His body grew stronger.
Each night, he collapsed into his cot, drenched in sweat.
Each morning, he woke up with less fear.
One evening, Kael stood outside the tower dorms, watching the stars flicker over the molten horizon.
Elira found him there.
"You survived Day One," she said.
"Barely. You?"
"Same. Got chewed out by my instructor for slicing a mimic in half instead of subduing it. Apparently they were training pets."
Kael chuckled. "Oops."
She looked at him, serious. "There's a lot you don't know yet. About this place. About what you are."
Kael nodded. "I know. But I'm learning."
She stepped closer. "You've made enemies already. The other Houses don't like anomalies."
"Good. I'd hate to be popular."
She smirked. Then her face softened. "Just... don't get yourself killed, alright?"
Kael looked up at the stars. "No promises."
Deep below the academy, in the Hollow Vaults, something ancient shifted.
A figure cloaked in chains walked past a cell glowing with dragonbone.
Inside, a voice whispered.
"The Last Egg... has hatched."
The chained figure smiled. "Then the culling begins."