*Date: 33,480 Second Quarter - Chalice Theocracy*
The morning bells rang with a muted clang, reverberating through the marble corridors of the Ivory Gate Academy. Their echo was less a call to arms than a reminder - tomorrow, blood would decide who advanced and who was left behind.
Aris tightened the straps of his satchel as he entered the lecture hall, Fox padding silently at his heels. His mind was a storm of fragments - failed incantations, the pulsing glow of the Witness Stone, Lyra's cryptic return. Yet none of that mattered here. In the Academy, he could not afford distraction.
He drew the drainage of the power to the witness stone to his hand and placed it in his palm, hoping to be ready for tomorrow. "I should be at least charged to level 21," Aris thought.
He spotted Orric near the back row - tall, broad-shouldered, sandy-haired, with the kind of calm presence that drew others. Most of the human students clustered in groups, their partnerships already cemented by weeks of sparring and whispered promises. But Orric sat alone as a solo wolfkin in the class, sharpening a dagger across a whetstone, his focus unbroken by the buzz of voices around him.
Aris hesitated. He'd spent nearly a month isolating himself in study, and that isolation had branded him. Even now, several classmates glanced his way, whispering behind hands. Especially Fae. Other than humans, no one cared about Aris anymore except Orric.
Fox flicked his tail. "Better ask him before someone else does. Or before John decides you should march in alone."
Aris ignored the barb, exhaling slowly, and approached.
"Orric." His voice came steadier than he felt. "You got a partner for the trial?"
The dagger paused mid-stroke. Orric raised his eyes - gray, sharp, but not unkind. "No. And you?"
"No," Aris admitted.
"Your new human best buddy didn't arrange someone for you?"
"You know I am not like them. I..."
"I understand. Fae hate you so you have to have people look after you."
Orric studied him a moment longer, as though weighing steel against coin. "You want me to go with you?"
"Yes." Aris kept his tone firm, though the weight in his chest threatened to sink him. "I won't drag you down. I know I'm behind in shields, but I can heal. Keep you standing when others would fall."
Orric's gaze drifted to the faint scars along Aris's hands - burns from failed spellwork, paper cuts from nights in the library. Then he nodded once, decisive. "Alright. We'll go together."
Relief washed through Aris so sudden it nearly unsteadied him. He offered a hand. Orric clasped it - his grip solid, grounding.
Before Aris could speak further, the lecture hall door opened. Silence rippled as Instructor Kalthis entered, robes trailing like shadows on water. His eyes, pale as frost, swept the room with dispassionate measure.
"Sit. Attend."
Chairs scraped as students fell into order. Aris and Orric took seats side by side, Fox curling under the desk.
Kalthis clasped his hands behind his back. "Tomorrow, the second dungeon trial begins. You will be tested not by drills or mock combat, but by the dungeon's true hand. Each of you will descend. Each will emerge stronger - or not at all."
The words hung heavy, neither threat nor comfort, only truth.
"The trial," Kalthis continued, "is set within new dungeons. A structure your upperclassmen have never been to before. Dungeons reclaimed by spiders and worse. Your objectives are threefold: survive, solve the puzzles, and return as a pair. Those who fail will not continue their studies here. This time you can take weapons but no potions and familiars."
Murmurs spread - nervous, hungry, defiant. Kalthis ignored them.
"You will leave at dawn with Shepherons. Until then, prepare. Sharpen steel, steady minds, finalize your partnerships. And remember: faith shields more than steel. Doubt is sharper than any blade you will face inside."
His gaze lingered briefly on Aris before sweeping away.
Dismissed, the students scattered. Some gathered in pairs, whispering tactics. Others boasted loudly, trying to mask fear with bravado.
Aris shouldered his satchel, moving with Orric toward the courtyard. The late sun glimmered against the Academy's canals, the water stained gold and crimson.
They spent the rest of the day in quiet preparation. Orric drilled sword forms beneath the archways, sweat gleaming on his arms. Aris knelt in the chapel alcove, sketching sigils in charcoal, forcing his hands to trace the weave of Healing Touch again and again until the flow steadied. Fox watched from the shadows, tail flicking, expression unreadable.
When night fell, the Academy dimmed to candlelight. The students retired to dormitories, but sleep evaded Aris. He sat by the window, Witness Stone heavy in his palm, its faint pulse echoing his heartbeat. Almost four years of experience trapped within - enough to level him thrice over, if he dared.
Fox whispered from the bed. "Still thinking of using it."
Aris opened his hand around the stone. "It stopped pulsating. I think it drained every excess xp."
When he took the stone to his other hand, he saw the drawings of the transfer were gone.
"Did it work?" Fox asked.
Aris didn't answer. Instead, he tucked the stone away and forced himself to lie down. Tomorrow would decide more than ranks - it would decide whether his obsession had meaning, or if the dungeon would swallow him whole.
"We will learn tomorrow," Aris thought. He strapped the stone to his chest like he did the first time and slept.
Dawn came cold and gray, the sky veiled with mist. Students gathered by the canals, cloaks drawn tight, blades and staves slung across their backs. Torches burned fitfully as skiffs bobbed against the marble piers.
Rathvoss waited at the front, his presence stark against the pale water. "Step forward in pairs. The journey is short. Use it to settle your minds."
They took them to the portal like before, a silent parade.
One by one, students boarded. Aris and Orric walked onto the portal when their turn came.
The same official as before took them to the portal and they appeared on a dam-like cliff with sprawling watering canals.
The official in plain robes pushed them off, the skiff gliding into the misted canal. "Good luck!" he shouted.
Orric and Aris resurfaced from the watering canal into a closed cave.
The cave smelled awful - mold and disease thick in the stagnant air.
They both started to cough.
Orric drew his blade. "Where are we?"
Aris wiped water from his eyes, feeling the witness stone's weight against his chest. "Second Dungeon, I presume."
The darkness ahead seemed to pulse with malevolent life, and somewhere in the distance, he could hear the skittering of many legs across stone.