The forest still held remnants of light when they began their work.
It was not day, but it was not night either. The canopy filtered the sky into muted tones, and the air carried that strange weight of something about to change.
Angelo climbed with ease, bracing himself against thick branches. He moved with youthful confidence—quick impulses, no hesitation. It was not brute strength. It was adaptation.
Below him, Tocre watched in silence.
Metallic pieces were pulled from their backpacks: short blades, reinforced tips, improvised tools. Tocre raised one hand, and the metal responded, aligning itself in the air before gliding up toward Angelo.
"Go," Tocre said calmly.
Angelo caught the pieces and began piercing the tree's bark, carving space little by little.
"Tocre… that story about the thorns—is it really true?" Angelo asked, focused on his work.
Tocre took a few steps, analyzing the trunk, the roots, the natural angle of the tree.
"It is," he replied at last. "But not in the way people imagine."
Aura Lana, seated on an exposed root, lifted her gaze.
"What do you mean?"
"Whether the thorns exist or not doesn't directly affect survival," Tocre said, crossing his arms.
"Then why does everyone talk about it like it's the end of the world?"
Tocre exhaled.
"Because it hurts," he said simply. "It causes discomfort, minor injuries, scares… but it doesn't end anyone's life."
Another metal piece slowly rose toward Angelo.
"So what are the thorns for, then?" Lana asked.
"Reports," Tocre answered. "They register incidents, crimes, or any situation that goes out of control."
Aura Lana tilted her head, thoughtful.
"Smart…"
"Orb Valley isn't just a training ground," Tocre added. "It's an observatory."
Angelo wiped his hands on his pants.
"So we're being watched all the time?"
"Not exactly. But enough," Tocre replied as he climbed higher, choosing the spot with precision.
"Up here, no common creature can reach us."
Aura Lana climbed as well, careful but unafraid.
"By the way…" Tocre said, recalling something secondary, "the fact that we're here already gives us a title."
"A title?" Angelo looked surprised.
"Crystals," Tocre confirmed. "It's the first title of everyone who officially enters the orbit of the Royal Army."
Angelo laughed softly.
"So we're already something?"
"In theory. Crystals are the foundation of beauty in nature. The greater the shine, the greater the prestige."
"Can you evolve that?" Lana asked.
"In theory, yes," Tocre replied. "But the system is more symbolic than practical. It exists for tradition, aesthetics, and theory."
They continued working. The opening was now the shelter they needed. The forest, little by little, sank into night.
When they began on the second tree, the light vanished almost completely.
"Night has fallen," Aura Lana murmured.
The silence felt different. Thicker.
"We go in. Now," Tocre decided.
They climbed back into the first tree—the tallest and safest one. The opening was small, tight, made for protection, not comfort.
Outside, something began to move.
Meanwhile…
Asher and Seraphina
The forest felt like a living shadow. Every step Asher took cut through the silence—decisive, almost aggressive, as if the vegetation itself had to part for him. Heat pulsed beneath his skin, subtle but constant, enough to drive his muscles forward, speed his heart, and warm the heavy air around him.
Seraphina followed close behind, breathing carefully, adjusting her steps to his pace.
"You're moving too fast," she murmured, almost a whisper.
"The farther ahead we get, the fewer people we'll have around us. That's our only advantage right now," Asher replied without looking back.
The forest seemed to absorb their words. Branches cracked, leaves scraped against their faces, the uneven ground demanded constant attention.
"Something is following us," Seraphina said after a few seconds of tension.
Asher stopped, alert. He heard the subtle movement of shadows, felt the presence lurking nearby.
"Run."
And they ran.
Branches lashed at them, roots rose from the ground like invisible traps, shadows shifted between ancient trees—coordinated, silent.
Then, without warning, the forest opened before them. The base of the mountain rose like a living wall.
"We're far enough…" Seraphina murmured, relieved.
"We were the first. That was expected," Asher said, his voice firm, determined.
Their hands gripped the rock, their feet found minimal holds. The height increased, cold wind struck their skin, and the forest below became a dark, restless carpet—full of watching presences.
Multiple movements. Creatures waiting. Not climbing. Not advancing. But ready.
"Hold this," Asher said, hurling a fireball downward.
An explosion lit up the forest, scattering the shadows. It wasn't an attack—it was a distraction.
"Keep going!" he shouted, muscles burning. The fire fueled his momentum. Seraphina followed, focused, breathing in sync with him.
Finally, the summit.
An impossible structure emerged: a fortress camouflaged into the mountain, natural defenses seamlessly integrated, total protection.
"Do you see, my sister?" Asher said, pride mixed with arrogance. "These are the advantages of royalty."
"That doesn't make us superior," Seraphina replied, frowning, her gaze steady.
"It makes us prepared," Asher answered with a cold smile.
She didn't argue. But the silence spoke louder than words.
Back in the clearing, Angelo kept his eyes open. Something scraped against the nearby trunk—slow, heavy, deliberate.
Tocre remained motionless, alert.
"Don't move," he whispered.
Below them, eyes reflected the faint light. Gray-bark wolves—more than one—coordinated. The echo of Ysolde's speech reverberated in Angelo's mind:
"We will not intervene."
He swallowed hard.
"So this is how it begins…" he murmured.
The first night demanded more than courage. It demanded correct decisions.
The cold of early dawn tightened its grip. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
First Echoes —
Ravian studied the group of ten young people. Ten was a critical number: enough to be noticed, not enough to dominate.
"Because we're ten," he said firmly, "we'll need to double our efforts."
Silent nods followed.
"We need protection. Let's gather branches for a simple fence—just enough to delay any intruder."
Tents were pulled from backpacks.
"Only two. Nothing more," he paused. "The rest will sleep outside, on rotation. Constant patrol."
Carl, broad-shouldered, stepped forward.
"We don't need branches. I can raise stone walls. Not very big, but solid."
Ravian smiled.
"I'm glad you're with us. That will be very useful."
More youths approached. Among them, Beryon Galdor Ironroot Helsor, solid posture and watchful eyes, and Myrron Falchett Averon Hyskar, carrying a heavy pack.
"I'm from the Fire Kingdom," said Kael Vornis Ignisar Relthur, thirteen years old. A small flame ignited in his palm.
"First shift, I'll patrol. Fire keeps intruders away."
Myrron raised a hand.
"I brought weapons—blades and mechanisms. I don't rely only on powers."
The tents were set up quickly: simple, functional, uncomfortable. Carl stepped into the center of the clearing. Hands together, he spread a golden-earth glow through his fingers. The ground answered. Stones rose, locking together into a low, solid wall. A single entrance was deliberately left open.
Ravian evaluated it.
"This will give us minimal security for the night."
Hours later…
Something moved in the distance. The sky began to lighten slowly.
"All right, everyone," Ravian said. "Let's begin."
As the sun rose for the first time over Orb Valley, the first society was formed.
Ten young people. Defined strategies. Crucial choices.
The night had not been just about courage.
It had been about survival.