They camped in the small glade Eldran had sealed for them — a hollow ring of ferns and moss where the forest's hum softened, as if even the trees were holding their breath. A low fire painted faces in orange; the smoke coiled up and vanished into leaves. Night here smelled of pine and loam and a strange metallic tang that Nox could almost taste on the back of his tongue.
Eldran moved like a shadow into the firelight, its faint runes alive along his robe. "Rest," he said simply. "Tomorrow marks the edge of Valdareth's domain. Tonight the forest will ask not if you can strike, but why you would strike."
Raven scoffed and flexed his fingers, flame licking at the knuckles that pulsed faintly with crimson resonance. He had already eaten twice. He wanted one thing: combat that left sore muscles and a bright bruise. "So — dreams?"
"More dangerous," Eldran answered. "Intent. The forest will conjure trials shaped from what you carry in your soul. It looks for crookedness: selfishness, greed, the urge to bend others for gain. A true resonant cannot compel without purpose; it must be anchored to a will that is not merely hungry."
Nox watched the old man and felt space open in his head — opportunity and caution woven together. When Eldran spoke of crookedness, he thought of the tiny, careful compromises that could be made for advantage; a missed bargain that could alter more than a single life.
Eldran sat and gestured. "Before you sleep, a lesson. Breathe resonance into an object. Anchor intent to a word. If your word is hollow in the morning, the forest will show you how empty the echo becomes." He produced two small stones carved with simple sigils — gifts from Eldenwood. "State your purpose," he ordered.
Raven grunted and took his stone, slapping it as if to cast the notion aside. "My purpose?" He laughed, a short, sharp sound. "To punch what needs punching and keep those I love alive. No flowery words. No politics."
Nox turned his stone in his hand. He thought of Eldenwood — the smith's steady hammer, the baker's laugh, the warm hands of people who did not imagine cities or legend. He felt the soft distant tug of a rhythm that was not yet his own: a pulse that wanted to be steadied, not wielded. He pressed his stone into his palm and breathed, filling it with quiet intent. To understand, to protect, and to leave intact what I would not take for myself.
The stones warmed. The sigils glowed. Eldran nodded. "Hunt the edge of that phrase all night. If any of you find it hollow, fill it honestly. The forest refuses lies."
They let the night come down over them. Raven snored within minutes; he was a furnace of sleep. Nox did not sleep easy. He mapped permutations in the dark, imagining how a single small deception might bend the Academy in ways their village had never known. He slept eventually — not unconcerned, but not afraid.
When the dawn color made the leaves pearly, birds began to sing. The forest breathed. Then, in a way that felt like a held note releasing, the glade shifted.
The trial was subtle at first: a child's voice calling on the path ahead, thin and trembling. "Please! Help—" The call threaded through the trees; any heart could hear it and hurry. Raven's muscles tensed instantly, fury sharpening his eyes.
Nox felt something else: a pattern beneath the plea, a resonance knot that spoke of trickery. The child's cry repeated, more urgent, and a figure blurred into view between trunks: a small, soaked child with dirt in their hair, hands open. Their eyes gleamed with pleading.
Raven surged toward the child without question; the forest's sound signed like static as his resonance flared. Nox moved after him, but with caution — scanning the thread that bound the child's plea. He saw the knot clearly: a weave of desperate need tangled with a thin thread of envy. Eyes followed them from further in the wood — hungry shapes.
At the child's feet sat a small satchel, glittering with coin and a single sealed letter stamped with a noble crest. A claim — something any hungry soul could take. The forest had placed temptation as thoroughly as any wound.
Raven scooped the child into his arms. In the moment his hand closed, the child's form shimmered and a shadow-snake rushed out, striking the forest floor where Raven had stood. Eldran cursed softly, the warning too late. Raven's raw drive had pulled the bait; he had rescued nothing but set a trap.
Raven grunted, wrestling a coil of shadow away with a shove that rattled leaves. His breath came hard; his eyes were furious, but he was whole. Nox had already stepped through the next web of illusion, his voice low as he intoned a turning sigil. The shadows peeled back as if the forest itself shuddered with recognition.
"Intent," Eldran said at the edge of hearing. "Not rescue, not greed. What would you do with what you find?"
Raven, breathing heavy, looked at the satchel. He opened it. The coin inside was dull and old; the letter bore the crest of a minor house known for recruiting desperate youths into dangerous campaigns. He felt rage and pity mix like smoke. He threw the coin back into the grass and covered the letter with soil.
Nox placed his hand on Raven's shoulder. "You wanted to help," he said quietly. "Not to build advantage. That's what matters."
Eldran stepped forward, facial lines softer now. "The forest teaches you what it senses. Tonight it smelled your tether to home and your fear of loss. It taught through temptation. You both showed different reactions. Neither perfect, both true."
He crouched and picked up the satchel's coin, letting it glitter in the morning sun. "Valdareth will test you in other ways — ambition, fear of failure, hunger for status. Know that those temptations can twist resonance until it answers not to the self, but to a hunger."
Raven spat into the dirt, then laughed, a short bark that broke the tension. "So the forest gives us a pop quiz on morality. Charming."
Nox allowed a brief smile. "It was not a test of strength."
"No," Eldran said. "It was a test of purpose. The beasts you can fight. Intent is the thing that will make you a weapon or a guardian."
They packed quickly and left the glade as the morning pressed eastward. Valdareth's far spires glinted over the ridgeline — a promise of gaunt gates, stern sentinels, and the banners of the Astra Dominion curling in the wind. A line of skybeasts passed far overhead, their riders small as birds. The Dominion watched; the city would notice them walking in.
As they descended, Eldran's voice was soft. "Tonight I taught you how to speak your purpose. Speak it true, and your resonance will answer. Speak it hollow, and it will betray you."
Nox felt the phrase settle into him like a new rhythm. He did not yet know all the trials that lay ahead — the political snares, the championship duels, the monsters that lived between worlds — but he had a new compass. He would test it.
And Valdareth, seeing them approach, readied itself. The Astra Dominion's banners snapped in the wind as if in salute — or warning.