The world broke apart.
One moment, they were standing in the goddess's clean, bright light. The next, it shattered like glass and vanished in a silent, silver mist. The solid ground under their feet was gone, replaced by damp moss and a tangle of thick roots.
Cold, heavy air, smelling of strange flowers and wet earth, rushed in to fill the space. The twin moons cast long, threatening shadows through the giant trees. The forest, once just a picture in the distance, was now their terrifying new reality.
Raw, loud panic erupted from the other ninety students. They scrambled, shouted, and stared into the deep darkness, looking for the goddess who had left them.
But while they were lost in their fear, Dante's mind was already on the next move.
"We're leaving," he ordered. His voice cut through the noise with the sharp sound of a closing door.
His team didn't wait. They gathered around him, their faces tight with purpose in the dim moonlight. As they turned to leave the panicked clearing, he felt dozens of eyes on his back. They were looks of jealousy, suspicion, and hunger.
They were organized. They were calm. In this new world, that made them a target. They ignored the stares and disappeared into the shadows of the old woods.
For an hour, Dante led them through the dark, using the glowing lines on Jin's map to find their way. They were heading to a small, hidden grove between a tall rock wall and a small stream. It was a good place to defend. It was hidden. It was the perfect spot to begin their work.
"Here," he said, finally stopping. "This is where we figure things out."
Their first and most important goal was to unlock the powers they'd been given. They had thought it would be simple, that they just had to want it and say a word. They were wrong.
Masha, always the calm one, stepped forward to try first. She held her palm out towards the stream, her brow tight with focus. "Cryomancy." The air around her hand seemed to get colder, her breath turning to mist, but the water flowed on, not changing at all. She tried again, her voice sharp with frustration. "Cryomancy!" Nothing.
A quiet desperation spread through the group. Jin gripped his sword, focusing on the idea of Swordsmanship, but the blade felt like a heavy, dead piece of metal in his hands. Edgar stared at a tree, repeating "Appraisal" under his breath until his head hurt, but he got no information, no special knowledge. The power was there, a real, humming feeling inside each of them, but the door was locked, and they had no key.
Dante couldn't test his own skill. Necromancer needed a corpse to work, and he wasn't going to make one just for practice.
So he watched, his mind picking apart the problem, studying their failure. They were trying to force it, to command a power they didn't understand. That wasn't the answer.
Soon, the grove was filled with the quiet, tense sounds of their struggle. Some sat and meditated, looking inside themselves for a switch to flip. Others began to train their bodies, hoping to trigger their skills through action.
His eyes landed on Erica. She stood by the stream, her whole body shaking with effort. Sweat dripped down her forehead as she pushed her hands out, her voice a raw, desperate whisper as she tried every word she could think of. "Fire. Burn. Ignite. Pyrokinesis!"
The air around her felt a little warmer, but no flame appeared. She was pushing herself to the breaking point. Dante walked over, his steps silent on the moss.
"Erica," he said gently. "I think you need a break."
[Erica's POV]
His voice was the last thing she heard before the world spun. Her strength, which had been stretched tight for so long, finally snapped. A wave of dizziness washed over her, her vision filled with black spots, and her legs gave out. The cool, damp ground rushed up to meet her.
I have to be stronger. For him, the thought echoed in her head as she fell into darkness. I have to be the one he can count on.
Her mind drifted away from the cold forest, pulling her back to a memory, a moment that had been burned into her soul. It was from college, long before all this madness. She had always seen Dante as a shadow in their class, a smart, handsome mystery.
He was always alone, a silent watcher who never seemed to need anyone. She wanted to talk to him, to understand the thoughts behind his quiet, serious eyes, but she was a coward. She was a quiet watcher herself, and Masha was her only friend because she had been determined enough to break through her shyness.
The memory sharpened to one afternoon. A heavy rainstorm had started, and she was stuck under a small shop awning, soaked and shivering. Just as she was about to give up and run for it, a person appeared out of the rain. It was Dante.
"You're wet," he said. The words were simple and direct. She saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, the look of someone trying to figure out a social situation they didn't understand. He hesitated, then quickly said, "Do you want to come to my house for a bit?"
She froze, a knot of fear and surprise tightening in her stomach. Before she could answer, he shook his head, a faint blush rising on his neck. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking away. "I don't know how to talk to girls. That was stupid. Wait here."
He disappeared back into the rain, leaving her stunned. A minute later, he returned with two umbrellas and a small, dry towel. "Here," he said, handing her the towel. "Wipe yourself off."
As she did, he offered her the dark jacket he was wearing. "It's getting cold. You should change out of your wet coat. There's a storage room back there you can use."
His kindness was so direct and practical that it left no room for her usual nervousness. She accepted his jacket, and after changing, the warmth felt like a miracle. He walked her home, one umbrella for each of them.
They walked in silence, but it wasn't awkward. It was a comfortable, safe quiet, a small shelter they shared from the storm.
When they reached her building, she thanked him and hurried inside. From her window on the third floor, she looked down and saw him still standing there in the rain.
He waited, a lone figure under the streetlights, until he saw her light turn on. Only then did he turn and walk away.
He was protecting her. He was kind.
A calm, familiar voice pulled her from the memory. Her eyes fluttered open. She was lying on the soft moss of the forest floor. Kneeling beside her, his expression unreadable in the dim moonlight, was Dante.
"Erica," he said again, his voice steady and low. "You need to rest."