The mist from the Dreaming Garden still lingered in Nocth's eyes, echoing faint fragments of the crimson dream—its colors too vivid, its voices too ancient. As he stepped into the testing field at the edge of the main courtyard, he found himself slowly emerging from that haunting vision.
A semicircle of students, nobles, and elders had gathered under the blossoming ether trees. Shae' stood among them, her silken robe swaying like a wind-forged flame. Her gaze—calm and unreadable—lingered on Nocth for a fraction longer than usual.
The test was called the Crimson Bloom Trial—a foundational combat challenge for Celestial Spark students aiming to gain attention from mentors, nobles, and possibly earn limited access to vein-forging grounds. The fighting field was ringed by sloping silvergrass and shaped like a sunburst.
Calem emerged from the opposing side. His cloak bore the faint shimmer of embedded runic threads—common among the weaker clans striving for recognition. His aura flared slightly, revealing a tightly constrained Level 1: Celestial Spark realm, refined near its limit. His Class 3 veins, inherited from the low-ranked noble clan Yeyor, gave him an edge in power channeling, but not in legacy.
"Don't blink, runt," Calem sneered, drawing a spiral-shaped training blade.
Nocth tilted his head. "Did you just call me a tree part?"
The crowd chuckled lightly. Even the elder overseeing the match, a sharp-eyed woman from the Fourth Elder's branch, allowed herself a small smile.
Imius leaned against a pillar, arms crossed. "Watch closely," he murmured to Shae'. "He's never fought in front of a crowd before."
Shae' didn't respond. Her gaze didn't waver. Her thoughts were her own.
"Begin," the elder announced.
Calem launched forward with honed precision. His strikes were practiced, sweeping with cutting wind infused with spark force. Nocth moved reflexively—not with formal technique, but with instinct born of something deeper.
He ducked a strike. Then twisted sideways. His footwork was uneven, but it flowed—like shifting currents refusing to be grasped.
Gasps erupted as Nocth's hand caught Calem's wrist mid-swing. In a motion both awkward and graceful, he bent it back and dropped Calem to one knee.
"Yield?" Nocth asked innocently.
Calem's face reddened. He yanked his arm free and swept a leg—but Nocth had already flipped backward with clumsy agility, landing near the outer glyph ring.
"You little—!" Calem lunged again, this time with desperation.
Nocth moved wrong. Or right. It didn't matter. Calem's momentum turned against him, sending him flying through a patch of ethereal grass.
The crowd laughed—again. Some elders stifled smiles. Calem, groaning, stood slowly.
"I yield," he hissed.
The elder stepped forward. "Victory to Nocth of the Outer Entry Class."
The laughter faded into murmurs of speculation.
Shae' turned away first.
Behind her veil of serenity, she whispered to herself, "He's beginning to walk… still blind, but walking nonetheless."