Dawn was slow to rise.
A pale mist clung to the ground, swirling like living spirits between the trees and huts. Ji-hyeon stood at the edge of the forest, scroll in hand, heart heavy.
He hadn't told his family. Not yet.
How could he?
How do you tell them that you've been summoned to a place where magic breaks rules, where bloodlines are uncovered, and secrets demand prices?
> "Ordo Arcanum."
The name itself felt ancient, as if it belonged more to myths than reality.
He could feel it—a pull, a connection that vibrated through his bones. That scroll wasn't just an invitation. It was a key. And something had unlocked the moment he opened it.
Behind him, the sound of careful footsteps.
"Planning to leave without saying goodbye?"
Areum stood there, arms crossed, her silver-blonde hair damp with dew. Her eyes didn't accuse, but they saw through him.
"I… I wasn't sure if I could explain," Ji-hyeon admitted.
She walked beside him, her voice low. "You don't need to explain everything. Just don't carry it all alone."
He looked at her, surprised by the softness in her tone. For someone always so guarded, so unreadable, this felt… human.
They stood in silence, staring into the mist.
> "What do you know about Ordo Arcanum?" he asked.
"More than I should," she said. "And less than I want."
Before he could ask more, the scroll shimmered again. Letters rearranged themselves—new words forming across the parchment.
> "Take ten steps forward. The trial begins when the first drop of fear touches your heart."
Areum's face darkened. "They're watching you already. It's started."
Ji-hyeon swallowed. He took a breath… then stepped into the mist.
One step. Two.
The air thickened. A strange humming echoed deep in the woods.
Three. Four.
The trees bent unnaturally. Shadows slithered between their trunks.
Five… six… seven.
His heartbeat quickened.
> "Don't run."
A voice—cold and ancient—whispered in his mind.
Eight… nine… ten.
The world shifted.
The mist swallowed him whole.