The entrance hall of Central Rivenden felt heavier than I remembered.
Tall marble pillars stretched high toward painted ceilings, banners of gold and silver swaying with every faint draft. Rows of braziers burned steady flames along the walls, but even their glow couldn't cut through the nervous air.
All around me, footsteps echoed—boots scuffing, armor clinking, the restless shuffling of nearly a hundred people who had made it through the first trial.
I kept close to Slade, Ski, and Tifa as we moved deeper inside. Slade walked like he owned the place—head up, shoulders back, the kind of stride that reminded everyone he was the prince. Ski followed with her hands shoved into her pockets, tossing out the occasional jab about how tense everyone else looked. And Tifa… she walked quiet but steady at my side, her eyes scanning the crowd with that calm sharpness she always had.
Me? My palms wouldn't stop itching. It felt like the entire room was watching, even though no one really was.
We reached the center of the hall, where the crowd gathered in uneven lines. Conversations rose and fell like waves—some whispered with dread, others buzzing with excitement. I caught fragments as I listened.
"—heard this trial's impossible—"
"—strategy-based, it's all mental this time—"
"—last year only two groups passed—"
I swallowed hard. Strategy. I could fight—barely—but strategy? That was another battlefield entirely.
The murmurs died suddenly as a figure appeared on the far balcony. A man stepped forward, his posture sharp, his presence commanding without effort.
Edan.
I had never met him before, but everyone knew the name. One of the Tenfold. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, his coat pressed and spotless, a faint insignia of the Circle stitched at his chest. Where some of the Tenfold carried themselves with flair, Edan's presence was colder—stern, no wasted movements.
His gaze swept over us all, and for a moment, it felt like his eyes locked onto mine.
"Congratulations," he said, his voice cutting across the chamber with effortless clarity. "You've survived the first trial."
A ripple of unease passed through the room. He didn't say passed, he said survived.
Edan let the silence hang before he continued. "But survival means nothing if you cannot think. If you cannot plan. A Knight must be more than blade and matter. You must learn to lead, to adapt, to endure even when escape seems impossible."
My throat felt dry.
"This second trial," Edan went on, "will test that. You will be placed into groups of five. Each group will be transported into a battlefield—one left abandoned after a war that ended long before your time. Your goal is simple: escape."
He raised his hand, palm open. "You have twenty-four hours."
A stir ran through the crowd—questions, fears, whispers. Escape? From what?
Edan didn't answer. He lowered his hand and added, "Failure to escape means failure of the trial. The rest… you will learn when you arrive."
The weight of his words pressed into my chest. Escape. Twenty-four hours. No details, no guidance. Just survive, think, endure.
Beside me, Slade smirked faintly, like the challenge lit a fire in him. Ski muttered something under her breath about this being "a pain in the ass." Tifa didn't move, her lips pressed thin, her eyes focused.
Edan lifted his fingers. "Form your groups. Once you are placed, the trial begins."
A low hum stirred the air, faint sparks of ethereal light gathering around him. His eyes narrowed, and the next words came like iron.
"Your time starts now."
He snapped his fingers.
The world lurched.
Light swallowed everything, pulling at my chest, my stomach, my lungs. The ground beneath my boots disappeared, and for a breathless moment I was weightless—falling, tumbling through a void of fractured colors.
Shouts rang out around me, other participants flailing as they dropped. The hall was gone. Rivenden was gone.
The air shifted, and I felt the rush of wind against my face. My eyes snapped open, and I saw the world below—vast, ruined, endless.
An abandoned battlefield.
Burnt trees like skeletal hands reached toward the sky. Jagged ruins dotted the landscape, once fortresses, now nothing but broken teeth across the earth.
Blackened scars cut through the ground, craters large enough to swallow houses. And everywhere, silence—thick, unnatural, pressing down on my ears even as the wind roared past.
I was falling.
The breath tore from my lungs as I flailed for control. My eyes darted across the sky, seeing dozens of others plummeting toward the battlefield, their screams swallowed by the emptiness below.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I tried to brace—tried to focus.
And then, with a burst of light, the fall slowed. My boots hit the ground hard, dust kicking up around me. I stumbled but caught myself, panting as I looked around.
I wasn't alone.
Four others had landed near me, all scrambling to their feet, eyes wide as they took in the shattered world around us.
Dust still clung to my boots from the landing. The air was different here—thin, dry, like it hadn't been meant for lungs in years. Even the silence pressed hard, broken only by the creak of distant ruins shifting in the wind.
I turned slowly, eyes scanning the four people who had landed near me.
The first was broad-shouldered, with short red hair and a scar cutting across his jaw. He stood with his arms crossed, chin tilted like he already hated being here. His gaze swept over us like he was measuring strength, and when it lingered on me, I could feel the disdain.
The second was leaner, older-looking than the rest of us though probably only by a year or two. His dark eyes were calm, his posture straight, a quiet confidence about him. Where the redhead looked ready to bite, this one seemed like the type who'd rather watch before striking.
The third was a girl with cropped black hair and a hooded cloak thrown back over her shoulders. She had sharp green eyes and an impatient tap to her foot, like the silence was suffocating her. Her hand hovered near the dagger strapped to her thigh as if she didn't trust any of us yet.
The last was another girl, smaller, with long silver hair tied loosely behind her. Her pale blue eyes flicked nervously between each of us, and she held herself as if she might disappear if anyone looked too closely.
Four strangers. My new group.
"Great," the redhead muttered, his voice low but sharp. "This is what I get." He pointed a thumb toward himself. "Name's Ronan. Don't slow me down, and we'll be fine."
The black-haired girl scoffed. "Friendly. Real inspiring." She tugged on her dagger strap. "Iria. Don't expect me to babysit."
The calm one gave a short nod, his voice even. "Kael. Let's keep it simple—we work together, we make it out. No reason to start fighting each other."
The silver-haired girl's voice was soft, almost trembling. "Lyra… I'm Lyra."
They all looked at me then.
For a second, I hesitated. My throat tightened. I wasn't used to saying it anymore.
"…Kin."
Ronan snorted. "Never heard of you."
"Not surprising," Kael said smoothly, ignoring him. He looked out over the ruined battlefield. "Edan said we have twenty-four hours. No map, no guidance. Which means the point isn't just survival—it's how we handle ourselves."
"Congratulations, genius." Iria rolled her eyes. "You want a medal for stating the obvious?"
Kael didn't flinch, just kept scanning the horizon.
I looked out too. The battlefield stretched endlessly—jagged stone, collapsed towers, earth torn apart as though giants had ripped through it. In the far distance, the sun cut faint light across blackened ridges, casting long shadows that twisted like claws.
"This place feels…" Lyra's voice trailed off, but we all knew what she meant. Wrong. Empty.
Ronan cracked his knuckles. "Doesn't matter. We just find a way out. No problem." He started walking without waiting.
"Wait," Kael said firmly. "We don't even know what we're dealing with yet. Charging blindly is exactly how people get eliminated."
"And sitting around whining is how people waste time," Ronan shot back. "You want to make it out? Then follow me. I'm not about to fail this damn test because you're too scared to move."
The tension thickened. Iria smirked faintly, clearly entertained. Lyra shifted uncomfortably, her hands wringing together.
I stood there, watching them argue. My chest tightened with unease. This wasn't a group. Not yet.
Still… Kael wasn't wrong. Charging in blind was stupid. But Ronan wasn't wrong either—we couldn't just stand here.
"Let's at least get cover," I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. "That building—" I pointed to a half-collapsed stone tower a short walk away.
Ronan shot me a look, like he wanted to argue, but then grunted. "Fine. Whatever."
The ruins pressed in on us like jagged teeth. Dust hung in the air, each breath dry and sharp in my throat. We crouched in the shadow of the broken tower, scanning the horizon.
"Do you hear that?" I whispered.
At first, it was only faint—just a low rhythm carried on the wind. Footsteps. Many of them.
Kael froze, his head snapping toward the sound. Iria's hand slid toward her dagger, lips curling with impatience. Ronan straightened, tension crackling through his shoulders.
The footsteps grew louder, closer.
"Down," Kael hissed, motioning with his hand.
We pressed ourselves against the cracked stone walls. My pulse quickened as the thudding echoed across the battlefield, bouncing between ruins.
Then, from between two shattered spires, shapes emerged.
Figures.
At least half a dozen people, all our age, sprinting across the field. They weren't organized—just frantic, stumbling over broken stone, shoving each other as they ran. Dust kicked up around them as their panicked shouts carried faintly to us.
"Another group," Iria muttered under her breath, eyes narrowing.
Lyra shifted nervously beside me, clutching her arms. "Why are they running like that?"
Ronan smirked faintly. "Because they're weak."
"No," Kael said firmly, his eyes locked on the group. "Something's chasing them."
The words sank in, making the air feel colder.
The other group darted through the ruins, their voices breaking into fragments we could barely make out. A boy tripped and scrambled back up, only to be shoved forward by the others. None of them slowed down.
I leaned against the cracked window, watching them vanish behind a ridge of broken walls. The sound of their footsteps faded until only silence remained again.
We didn't see what they were running from. But the way they'd moved—desperate, terrified—it planted a weight in my chest that wouldn't leave.
"What do you think it was?" Lyra asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Kael exhaled slowly. "Whatever it is, we'll see it soon enough."
Ronan let out a short laugh, though it was tight around the edges. "Good. I was starting to get bored.
**
The ruins stretched out endlessly, jagged spires of stone clawing toward the pale sky.
No one spoke at first. Maybe it was the silence of the place, or maybe the image of that other group running still lingered in all our minds.
Ronan finally broke the quiet with a snort. "They probably scared themselves. Weaklings."
I shot him a look but didn't reply. His voice bounced off the hollow walls, too loud, like it didn't belong here.
Kael was at the front, moving carefully, his sharp eyes scanning every corner. Iria walked a few steps behind, kicking loose stones as she went, her patience already thinning. Lyra trailed closest to me, her head turning constantly as if expecting something to leap out from behind every crumbling wall.
"This place feels… wrong," Lyra whispered.
"It's just ruins," Ronan said, rolling his shoulders. "Stone doesn't bite."
"Not unless it's falling on your head," Iria muttered.
We passed through what must've been an old plaza once, now just a skeleton of shattered pillars and broken flagstones. I crouched near a piece of rubble, brushing away the dust. My fingers traced over what looked like carved lines—an old insignia, barely visible.
"Some kind of crest?" I asked, glancing up.
Kael leaned in. "Looks military. This used to be a command post, maybe. Whoever fought here wanted to leave nothing standing."
The thought sat heavy in my chest. Whoever fought here had done it with everything they had—and lost.
We pressed deeper. The ruins narrowed into a corridor of collapsed buildings, stone walls rising high on both sides. Shafts of sunlight cut through the gaps overhead, illuminating swirls of dust.
"This would be a good place for an ambush," Kael muttered.
"Or a trap," Iria added, fingers drumming against the hilt of her dagger.
I slowed my pace, eyes shifting across the jagged shadows. For a moment, I thought I heard something—a faint scrape of stone on stone. But when I turned, there was nothing. Just silence.
Lyra hugged herself tighter. "I don't like this…"
"None of us do," Kael said. "Stay sharp."
We came out into another clearing. This one was different—less ruined, like it had been shielded from the worst of the battle. Half a collapsed wall still stood, vines creeping through the cracks. On the ground, broken weapons lay scattered: rusted swords, snapped spears, even a cracked shield.
I knelt beside one, running my hand over the cold metal. Whoever this belonged to… they'd never left this place.
Behind me, Ronan scoffed. "Relics. Worthless."
I didn't answer. My eyes lingered on the weapons longer than I meant to, a quiet unease coiling in my chest.
That's when we heard it.
Not footsteps. Not voices.
Something heavier. A distant thud that rattled through the ruins like the heartbeat of the earth itself.
We froze.
Another thud. Louder this time. Closer.
Iria swore under her breath. "That's not wind."
Kael's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "Hide. Now."
We ducked behind the broken wall, crouching low. My pulse thundered in my ears. Across the ruins, the sound grew louder, deliberate. Heavy.
Ronan grinned faintly, his knuckles cracking. "Finally."
The silence stretched too long.
The thuds had stopped, leaving only the faint rattle of loose stones where the sound had last echoed. My heart pounded in the stillness, every second dragging like an eternity.
Then, the air shifted. A low vibration hummed through the ground beneath us—steady, primal, like the world itself was holding its breath.
I peeked over the edge of the broken wall. At first, I saw nothing. Just the desolate sprawl of rubble and fractured spires, sunbeams cutting through dust and shadow. Then, from between the skeletal remains of two toppled towers, it stepped out.
The creature.
It was taller than any man, its frame thick with muscle, its skin a mottled stone-gray. Curved horns jutted from its skull, blackened at the tips, casting jagged shadows across its face. Its mouth hung slightly open, rows of sharp fangs glinting in the light. Each step it took cracked the earth, claws scraping against stone.
Its eyes burned. Not like fire—worse. A molten orange, wild and unblinking, sweeping across the ruins with a hunter's patience.
Lyra gasped softly beside me, covering her mouth with both hands. Iria pressed a finger to her lips, urging silence. Even Ronan, for all his cocky bravado, had gone still, his grin faltering.
The creature sniffed the air. A guttural sound rumbled from its throat—half growl, half hiss. It turned its head slowly, scanning. Searching.
My fingers tightened against the cracked stone of the wall. It felt like those glowing eyes could cut straight through the shadows, right to us.
Kael leaned closer, his whisper barely audible. "It's hunting."
The beast's claws dragged across the wall of a ruin, leaving deep scars in the stone as it passed. Then it stopped. Its head lifted slightly, nostrils flaring again.
It let out a roar.
The sound shook the entire plaza, bouncing off every broken tower and splintered arch. Dust rained down from the walls above us. My ears rang, chest thrumming with the echo of it.
The horned monster stood tall, its fanged grin twisting, and I realized with a sharp knot in my stomach—
It wasn't just wandering.
It knew something was here.
The creature turned, slow and deliberate, in our direction. Its molten gaze locked on the wall where we hid.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
"Shit," Iria hissed under her breath.
Kael raised a hand to signal us to stay down, his knuckles white. Lyra trembled so hard the rubble beneath her shoes gave the faintest scrape.
The beast's head tilted. Then, step by step, it started moving toward us.
The beast's footsteps thundered closer, the vibration rattling through the ruins. My pulse hammered in my ears as I pressed tighter against the wall, praying it would pass.
And then… silence.
No more footsteps. No scraping claws. Nothing.
The others exchanged quick glances, their faces tight with confusion. Kael slowly lifted his head over the rubble. Nothing. Empty street.
"…Where'd it go?" Lyra whispered.
I didn't answer. My gut twisted. Something was wrong.
A sound split the silence.
Low. Wet. Guttural. Like bones grinding in a throat that wasn't made for speech.
It came from behind us.
Every muscle in my body went stiff. We turned, slow, deliberate, as if moving too quickly would bring the whole world crashing down.
And there it was.
The horned beast loomed in the shadows just behind us, its glowing eyes locked onto mine. Fangs bared, claws curling into the stone floor, it let out that same sick, twisted rumble that shook the marrow of my bones.
My mouth went dry.
"…Ah, shi—"