Fifteen.
That was the age set in stone by the Guild's charter: the minimum age to stand for the test, the line between "too young" and "ready to risk your life." And now Kael had crossed that line.
Ryn had counted the days as closely as Kael had. He'd been awake before dawn, sitting on the low wall across from their house, waiting for the light in the window. When it finally came, when Kael stepped out into the pale blue of morning, Ryn felt his stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.
---
Inside, Kael's family had already been preparing. Mira stood at the table, flour on her arms and sleeves rolled up. Danrel leaned on the doorway, watching quietly as Kael pulled on boots and tied back hair.
"You've been training for this," Mira said as Kael adjusted the strap on their belt. "But I still need to ask—are you sure?"
"I am," Kael said. Their voice didn't waver.
Mira crossed the room, wiped her hands on a cloth, and pressed her palm to Kael's cheek. "You've always run ahead of your years," she whispered. "I'm proud. I just hope the world doesn't take advantage of that."
Danrel stepped forward and placed a large hand on Kael's shoulder. "You know we're proud. You also know we're worried. Keep both those things in mind today."
"I will," Kael said simply.
---
The annex sat at the far edge of town, plain stone walls with the Guild's sigil carved into the lintel: a blade crossed with a tool, bound by a circle. It had always been a building that looked larger than life. Today, stepping up to it, Kael felt that weight more than ever.
The hall was crowded with other hopefuls—some older, some like Kael, fresh at the minimum age. The air buzzed with nerves and quiet excitement. At the front sat three Guild officials: an older woman with steel in her posture, a scarred man built like a wall, and a young clerk with ink-stained fingers arranging papers.
Behind them, a display of the ranks was hung on the wall: plaques of different metals and designs. It was a silent reminder of just how far anyone who passed today would have to climb.
---
The first test was physical.
Ryn, who had come as a spectator, found himself leaning forward as Kael's group was led outside to the obstacle yard.
A whistle blew.
Kael ran.
Balance beams came first, but Kael moved like they had been doing this forever: fast, sure, each step deliberate. The climbing wall followed; they were over it in moments. Even the strike against the training dummy—wood against wood, loud and clean—came like muscle memory.
By the time Kael stepped off the course, their breath was still steady while others stumbled in behind them. Ryn felt a grin tugging at his mouth despite the knot in his chest.
---
The second test was indoors: paper, quills, and questions.
What matters more—your life, your goal, or your companions?
What do you do when someone in your party turns reckless?
When is retreat the right choice?
Ryn couldn't see the answers, but he knew how Kael thought. He'd seen it in every training yard and run they'd done together: never leave someone behind. Never trade a life for pride.
---
The final test was sparring.
Kael was paired with a boy two years older and much broader across the shoulders.
They bowed. The boy lunged fast, swinging a wooden staff with a confidence that said he'd been sure he'd win from the start.
Kael turned the strike aside with an almost lazy grace, letting it pass harmlessly. A quick tap to his arm made him blink.
The second strike came stronger; Kael slipped under it and moved in close, twisting until their pole was set against his chest.
"Stop," the official barked.
The boy backed up, panting. Kael didn't look winded.
---
When the testing ended, the candidates were called back inside.
Names began to be read, and Ryn stood just outside the doorway, back pressed to the cool stone wall.
His hands were tight around the strap of his satchel. He told himself he already knew how this would end, but his heart still beat faster as the names went down the list.
Kael stood in the middle of the group, head held high, waiting.
---
Ryn swallowed. He thought of the hours they'd spent running the same roads, the months of balancing on logs, the bruises from sparring, and the way Kael's eyes had always been set on something just over the horizon.
Today, that horizon was closer.
He smiled to himself, but it hurt.
---
Inside, the next name was called.
Kael's turn was coming.
And Ryn knew, without needing to hear it, that this would be the moment that changed everything between them.
---
The clerk at the table called the next name, voice sharp and carrying through the hall.
"Kael Noc'thera."
The room stilled for a moment.
Kael stepped forward, steady but aware of all the eyes that followed them. They kept their hands relaxed at their sides and their chin high, just as Sef had taught them.
The older woman with the steel posture looked up from the paper in front of her and said a single word:
"Approved."
---
It was almost anticlimactic.
No speech.
No ceremony.
Just that word, but it landed in Kael's chest like a drumbeat.
They bowed, simple and respectful, then stepped aside as the next name was called. They barely heard it. All they could hear was the echo of that word in their head.
Approved.
---
Ryn, outside, exhaled so suddenly he startled himself. His hand came up to his chest without thinking. He'd been certain Kael would pass, but hearing it confirmed—seeing the way Kael walked out of the hall—was something else entirely.
The door swung open, and Kael emerged into the bright sun. For a moment, their gaze swept the gathered parents and spectators, searching, before settling on him.
Ryn lifted a hand in a small wave, then pushed himself away from the wall to meet them halfway.
"You passed," he said quietly.
Kael nodded.
"I knew you would," Ryn went on, trying to keep his voice light. He forced a grin that stretched across his face, wide and warm—but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Congratulations, Kael."
"Thank you," Kael said. There was gentleness in their voice, the kind that made it harder for him to keep smiling.
Ryn's grin faltered just a little. He wanted to tell them not to go. He wanted to say that the town still needed them here. But that was selfish, and he knew it. Kael had been running toward this day from the moment they could walk.
"I'll… see you at training," he managed, his voice rougher than he liked.
"Of course," Kael said.
They stood there a moment longer, then Kael's parents came pushing through the crowd.
---
Mira's arms were around Kael before they could say anything. She squeezed so tightly that for a moment Kael forgot how to breathe.
"I knew you'd do it," she whispered fiercely. "You've made us so proud."
Danrel came up behind her, slower but with a look that spoke more than words. He placed one hand on Kael's shoulder, the other at Mira's back. "We knew you were ready," he said. "That doesn't mean we won't worry."
Kael laughed softly, muffled against Mira's shoulder. "I know."
Mira pulled back just far enough to look them in the eye. "Proud doesn't even begin to cover it," she said. "But the Guild's path isn't easy, Kael. You've passed the test, but now you'll face the kind of things that make parents lose sleep."
"I understand," Kael said. And they did.
Danrel squeezed their shoulder a little harder. "This doesn't mean you stop being careful. Remember what we taught you. Remember that your life isn't something to gamble with."
Kael nodded. "I'll remember."
---
Ryn had stepped back to give them room, but he stayed close enough to watch. He'd never seen Mira's face so full of pride, or Danrel's so openly worried. It struck him again that this day didn't just change things for Kael—it changed things for all of them.
Kael's gaze flicked over to him as they stepped out of their parents' hold, and Ryn forced himself to smile again. This one was softer, quieter, and Kael returned it. It didn't make the ache in his chest any lighter, but at least it felt honest.
---
The walk home from the annex was slower than the one there. Kael stayed between their parents, Mira holding their arm like she wasn't quite ready to let go, and Danrel occasionally pointing out small cracks in the road as if keeping them from tripping would somehow keep them safe in all the years ahead.
At the house, Mira set food on the table even though she knew no one was hungry. It was her way of calming the tremble in her hands.
Kael sat, and their parents sat with them. Ryn hesitated at the door until Mira waved him in as if he'd been part of the family all along.
The room was quiet for a long moment.
"You did it," Mira said finally.
Kael nodded.
"And tomorrow," Danrel added, "everything changes."
---
That night, after the house had grown quiet and the light in Kael's window went dark, Ryn stayed outside for a while, sitting on the same stone wall where he'd waited that morning.
He stared at the sky, trying to picture Kael out in the wide, dangerous world the Guild spoke of. Monsters. Ruins. Distant cities. Places neither of them had ever been.
And he knew, deep in his chest, that no matter how hard he trained, he might never catch up.
He smiled anyway, because if anyone could make something out there, it was Kael.
---
Inside, Kael sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the wooden pole resting against the wall. The approval had been given, the door had opened.
Tomorrow, that door would stay open.