The road to Blackspire did not forgive the weak.
Kael learned that within the first hour.
The stone path wound through dead land—fields where crops no longer grew, trees twisted as if recoiling from the sky, the air heavy with lingering mana scars. Every step away from Eldwyn made his past feel smaller, thinner, like a lie he'd once believed.
Orin walked ahead, staff tapping rhythmically against the road. Despite his blindness, he never hesitated, never slowed. Kael followed a few paces behind, eyes scanning the horizon.
He could see differently now.
Not with his eyes alone.
Mana flowed through the world like invisible rivers, and Kael felt them brushing against his awareness. Weak currents skimmed the ground. Old, stagnant pools clung to ruined structures. Far beneath it all, something vast and slow pulsed like a sleeping heart.
"This place is wounded," Kael said.
Orin did not look back. "You feel it."
"I don't know how," Kael admitted. "I just… do."
"That is Starborn perception," Orin replied. "You are not sensing mana. You are sensing history."
Kael frowned. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is."
They continued in silence until the road narrowed, cutting through a canyon of black stone. Shadows stretched unnaturally long here, bending against the sun's direction.
Kael's skin prickled.
"Something's watching us," he said.
Orin stopped.
"Yes," the old man replied calmly. "Three somethings."
The shadows moved.
Figures peeled themselves away from the canyon walls—humanoid, but wrong. Their bodies were lean and ash-gray, eyes glowing a dull amber. Jagged clan brands were carved directly into their flesh, pulsing weakly.
Kael stiffened. "Corrupted?"
"Exiles," Orin corrected. "Failed ascendants. Their clans stripped their ranks and cast them out. Hunger finishes the rest."
One of the creatures grinned, mouth splitting too wide. "Star scent," it rasped. "Bright… painful… delicious."
Kael's pulse quickened—not with fear, but irritation.
"I don't want to kill them," he muttered.
"You may not have a choice," Orin said.
The exiles lunged.
The first moved fast—too fast for a normal human. Kael's body reacted before thought caught up. He stepped aside, the creature's claws slicing empty air.
Heat surged in his chest.
Kael raised his hand.
The air folded.
The exile slammed into the canyon wall as if struck by an invisible giant, stone exploding outward on impact. It did not rise again.
The other two froze.
Kael stared at his palm. "I didn't cast anything."
"You asserted," Orin said. "The world complied."
The remaining exiles attacked together.
Kael exhaled slowly and took a step forward.
The ground cracked.
A wave of pressure rolled outward, slamming into both creatures simultaneously. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, mana tearing itself apart inside them. They collapsed, twitching, then lay still.
Silence returned.
Kael lowered his hand, breathing hard.
"That was… easy," he said.
Orin's expression darkened. "That was nothing."
Kael turned sharply. "They were corrupted ascendants."
"And Blackspire trains those who survived far worse," Orin said. "If you grow arrogant now, you will die there."
Kael clenched his fists.
"I don't feel arrogant," he said quietly. "I feel like I'm holding back something that wants to break free."
"That is precisely the danger," Orin replied.
They walked on.
As dusk settled, the land changed. The dead stone gave way to obsidian spires jutting from the earth like spears. Mana pressure thickened with every step, heavy enough to make Kael's lungs burn.
Then he saw it.
Blackspire Academy rose from the earth like a fortress grown rather than built—towering walls of dark crystal, massive floating platforms circling the main spire, chains of glowing runes anchoring them to reality. Above it all hovered a fractured ring of stone, slowly rotating, humming with restrained power.
Kael stopped walking.
"…That's an academy?" he asked.
"A crucible," Orin corrected.
The gates loomed open, wide enough to swallow armies. Students gathered near the entrance—hundreds of them—each radiating power in varying degrees. Clan banners fluttered above their heads, marks glowing proudly on skin and armor.
Kael felt eyes turn toward him.
Pressure descended.
Some students scoffed. Others frowned. A few smiled sharply, sensing prey.
A boy with golden sigils carved along his arms laughed openly. "Unmarked," he said loudly. "Did a servant get lost?"
Kael felt the familiar pulse stir.
He ignored it.
Orin leaned close. "Do not provoke them. Not yet."
Kael nodded, jaw tight.
They crossed the threshold.
The moment Kael passed beneath the gate, the world shifted.
A force slammed into him, invisible but overwhelming. His knees buckled, teeth gritting as crushing pressure bore down on his body.
Around him, students staggered—or stood firm, smirking as the academy tested them.
Kael's vision darkened.
The presence pressed harder.
Kneel, something demanded—not in words, but law.
Kael trembled.
His power surged in response, wild and furious, but he forced it down. If he unleashed it here, he knew—knew—the academy would answer in kind.
He straightened slowly.
Step by step, Kael stood upright under the crushing force.
Gasps echoed.
The golden-sigil boy's smile vanished.
The pressure receded.
A voice thundered across the courtyard, ancient and amused.
"Interesting."
From the highest balcony, a figure watched—tall, cloaked, face hidden behind a mask etched with shifting runes.
"The Star stirs again," the figure murmured. "Admit him."
Kael exhaled shakily as the weight vanished.
Orin smiled faintly.
"Welcome," he said, "to the point of no return."
Kael looked around at the academy, at the predators disguised as students, at the towers that promised power or death.
His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
"Good," he said. "I was getting bored."