The bells of the North Tower tolled four times—a low and mournful sound that signaled the start of the Royal Hunt.
Ren had not slept a wink. The note hidden against his chest felt like a shard of ice, a constant reminder that he was walking into a trap designed to turn him into a murder weapon. He stood at the edge of the courtyard, his breath hitching in the pre-dawn chill. Before him, the three Princes sat atop their mounts, looking less like students and more like harbingers of war.
Cian rode a massive, white horse that seemed to glow with a faint, internal light. He was armored in silvered leather, black boots, his golden hair pulled back in a low ponytail with bits left out in his face, his eyes fixed on the treeline of the Obsidian Forest.
Kael sat upon a heavy, coal-black stallion, his iron training sword replaced by a jagged greatsword that hummed with a low, static vibration. It looked heavy to carry. He was also dressed in full armor.
Julian, ever the stylist, rode a lithe, dappled mare, his green cloak pinned with a brooch shaped like a serpent's head. He was wearing silk. He wore silk to hunt. With leather boots and leather arm protection.
He probably arms were part of the beauties of life, Ren thought dully.
And then there was Ren.
He wasn't given a horse. He stood at the stirrup of Cian's mount, a heavy leather pack strapped to his back containing the supplies he'd prepared. Around his neck, the iron collar felt heavier than ever, connected to a literal leash of braided silver silk that Cian held loosely in his gloved hand.
"Keep up, zero." Cian said, his voice devoid of the strange softness from the night before. He had somewhere along the line adopted the nickname too.
"If you fall, the horse won't stop. And neither will the collar break."
With a sharp kick, the Prince's horse bolted forward. Ren was yanked off his feet for a split second before his legs found their rhythm. He was forced into a grueling jog just to keep from being dragged.
The transition from the Academy grounds to the Obsidian Forest was abrupt. The lush grass turned to gray ash, and the trees grew tall and twisted, their leaves not green, but a translucent, glass-like black that didn't rustle in the wind—they clinked.
"The resonance is already shifting," Julian noted, his horse pulling up beside Cian. He looked down at Ren, who was already panting, his face flushed with effort. "The forest is a natural amplifier. Every spell cast here echoes. If you spike today, Cian, the whole mountain will feel it."
"That's what the sinkhole is for," Cian replied, jerking the silver lead.
Ren stumbled, his boots sliding on a slick root. As they moved deeper, the "grid" he had felt during the branding ceremony began to hum. He could feel the tracking wards of the Academy hovering above them like invisible eyes. They were flies but not the regular kind.
These were the type that could connect with a human and allow the human see through their eyes. They were flies with butterfly wings though smaller than an actual butterfly. If Ren was to go by his instincts there were like four watching them.
But beneath all that, he felt the forest.
It was alive. And it was hungry.
The Obsidian Forest wasn't just a place of magic; it was a place of decayed magic. To Ren's Weaver eyes, the air was thick with frayed, rotting threads, like cobwebs. They were charcoal-grey and jagged, swirling around the horses' hooves.
They walked for a minute then…
"Stop," Kael commanded, his hand going to his sword hilt.
The group halted in a clearing where the trees around formed a natural line of black mass. In the center lay the carcass of a mana-beast—a shadow-wolf.
Ren looked at its chest cavity that had been blown open by something far more powerful than a simple spell. They were wolves that could move with the shadow, like shadow travel. So it shouldn't have been killed like this.
"A level five kill," Julian whispered, dismounting. He knelt by the beast, his emerald eyes scanning the area. "But it wasn't killed for food. This was a message. There are other groups in this sector." He said as he showed the rest a crest mark burned into the wolves black fur.
Cian stayed on his horse, his gaze narrowing.
"The new gens. They want to prove I'm a liability before the coronation. They'll try to provoke a spike."
He looked down at Ren. "Stay close. If I feel even a flicker of instability, I'm opening the gates through the collar. You take it all, or you die. Do you understand?"
Ren nodded, unable to find his voice. His arm, where the brand sat, was burning. The mark was pulsing in time with the forest's heartbeat. To him it sounded like Cian was scared of losing the throne.
'When the lightning strikes the root, the Sinkhole must be open.'
The words of the note screamed in his head.
He looked at the trees around them. Their roots were thick, obsidian-veined structures that ran deep into the earth. If he was forced to ground Cian's lightning while standing on those roots, the conductive nature of the obsidian would turn him into a literal bomb.
"Someone's coming," Kael grunted.
Ren's heart raced.
From the shadows of the glass-trees, three figures emerged. They were students from the South Tower—the rival faction, the next generation of sages.
At their center was Lord Alaric, a man with a sneer that seemed carved into his face. Behind him, he led his own Ground—a girl so pale and thin she looked like a walking corpse, her eyes rolled back in a permanent state of magical shock.
"Prince Cian," Alaric drawled.
"I see you brought your new pet. He looks a bit... fresh. Are you sure he can handle the pressure? My Ground is on her third year, and she's already starting to crack."
"My business is my own, Alaric," Cian said, his white-gold mana beginning to flicker around his fingertips.
"Is it? The Sages say your resonance is a threat to the Academy's stability. We can't have that now can we? I'm sure even your two… friends think so too." Alaric countered.
He raised a hand, and a ball of sickly orange flame ignited. "Maybe we should test it. A friendly spar? To see whose 'trash can' fills up first? See who's outburst isn't dangerous?"
The air grew heavy. The white-blue lightning of Cian clashed with the orange heat of Alaric's flame.
Ren felt the tug.
The collar began to vibrate. He could feel Cian's anger—it was jagged and pulsing.
But then, he felt something else. A thread of emerald green snaking through the air from Julian.
It took him moment of watching Julian to understand that Julian wasn't trying to stop the fight.
He was feeding it.
He was subtly weaving his own mana into the tension, pushing Cian toward a spike.
He's doing it, Ren realized. Julian is triggering the assassination.
"Highness, don't!" Ren cried out, grabbing the silver lead with both hands.
Everyone froze.
A Null speaking out of turn during a confrontation between nobles was a death offense.
Alaric laughed. "Your pet has a mouth, Cian. How droll."
Cian didn't laugh. He looked down at Ren, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the lightning died down. "You have something to say, zero?"
Ren's heart was hammering. His pulse roared in his ears.
He could feel the note in his tunic. He could feel Julian's emerald eyes drilling into the side of his head, a silent threat to keep his mouth shut.
"The... the roots," Ren stammered, pointing to the obsidian veins beneath their feet. "The conductivity is too high here. If you discharge, it won't just hit me. It will echo through the forest. It will call everything in this sector to us. Set the whole thing on liquid fire."
Kael looked down at the roots, his brow furrowing.
"He's right. This clearing is a focal point. A discharge here would be like a flare."
Julian stepped forward, his smile never wavering. "Our little Ren is becoming quite the strategist. But Cian, surely you aren't going to let a Null tell you when to fight?"
Cian looked at Alaric, then at the roots, and finally at Ren. He saw the genuine terror in Ren's eyes—not just fear of the Prince, but fear of the consequences.
"We move," Cian commanded, turning his horse. "Alaric, if you want a test, find a beast. I don't waste my mana on bark and ash."
Alaric and his crew seethed with anger.
As they rode away, Julian lingered for a second. He passed close to Ren, his silk shoulder pad brushing Ren's shoulder.
"Very clever, little bird," Julian whispered. "You saved him. For now. But the forest is large, and the lightning always finds its path."
He walked off leaving Ren rooted for a few seconds, before he moved to follow them.
They trekked for another three hours, moving into the "Heart of the Obsidian," where the trees were so thick the sun was completely blocked out. The only light came from the glowing plants and the rhythmic pulse of the Princes' magic.
Finally, they reached a ravine. At the bottom, a Level Six Mana-Beast—a Crystal-Hided Boar—was rooting through the ash. It was the size of a carriage, its tusks made of jagged diamond.
"This is it," Cian said, his voice low. "Kael, take the flank. Julian, shroud the area. I'm going in direct."
"And the Ground?" Kael asked.
"Tie him to the anchor-stone at the top of the ridge," Cian ordered. "I want the connection long. I need to feel the distance so I can gauge the drain."
Kael grabbed Ren by the back of his tunic and hauled him toward a massive, black stone jutting from the cliffside. He looped the silver lead around a natural hook in the rock and tightened it.
"Don't move," Kael said. He looked at Ren's arm, at the faded brand. "If things go wrong... cut the lead."
"What?" Ren gasped.
"The Prince won't let go," Kael whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. "If he spikes too hard, he'll take you with him. Use your teeth if you have to. Just get away."
Kael leapt down into the ravine, leaving Ren alone.
He didn't appreciate being treated like a pet to be tied down waiting for it's master. But why did Kael advice him to get away? Was that even possible with the collar?
The battle was a nightmare of sound and light. From his vintage point, Ren saw the white lightning descending like a waterfall. He saw the green illusions of Julian distracting the beast, and the heavy, iron strikes of Kael holding it in place. From the sounds he could tell it was a mutant bear.
Animals weren't supposed to have mana residue but due to the high resonance in the obsidian forest-that formed from hunting, the school and from high status students coming here often-animals often mutate and become a problem. A mutant bear wasn't supposed to be hard to kill. Ren thought.
But the collar was screaming.
Cian was pouring everything into the fight. The collar in Ren's throat was vibrating so hard it was drawing blood. Ren felt the Prince's core opening—it was a gaping, screaming maw of power.
I have to take it, Ren thought. If I don't, he'll blow the ridge and everybody along with it.'
He reached out and grabbed the sapphire pendant with both hands, ignoring the burn. He didn't just ground the magic. He opened his void core.
The Silver Stitch in his palm unraveled again.
He didn't just take the overflow. He reached through the collar, through the distance, and touched Cian's core.
Down in the ravine, the Prince froze for a fraction before continuing, his movements smoother than before.
The jagged, wild lightning around him suddenly smoothed into a blinding, perfect sphere of white light that hit directly.
The beast didn't stands a chance. With one focused blast, Cian vaporized the creature's head.
Silence fell over the ravine.
Ren slumped against the anchor-stone, on his knees, gasping for air.
He barely made it out alive. He could feel his life force draining. His nose was bleeding again. His hand was glowing with a fierce, moonlight-silver radiance. The third stitch was finished. The fourth was beginning.
He looked down into the ravine.
Cian was standing over the smoking carcass of the beast, looking up at the ridge. Even from this distance, Ren could see the Prince's eyes.
They weren't cold anymore. They were wide with a terrifying, obsessive wonder.
Cian began to walk up the slope toward Ren, ignoring his friends, ignoring the kill. He moved like a man with a purpose.
Ren tried to scramble backward, but he was still tied to the stone and had zero strength.
Cian reached the top of the ridge. He was covered in ash and beast-blood, his silver armor charred.
He didn't say a word at first.
He simply walked up to Ren, grabbed him by the hair, and forced his head back.
"You," Cian whispered, his voice trembling with an emotion Ren couldn't name. "What are you?"
Ren looked into the Prince's eyes and saw his own reflection. He looked like a ghost. "I'm... I'm your Ground, sir."
"No," Cian hissed, his grip tightening. "A Ground is a bucket. You... you are an ocean."
Julian and Kael came from behind.
"He obviously looks like he's about to die. If he dies now he'll be the only ground you've had that has lasted this long." Julian said folding his arms.
Before Ren could answer, a low, rumbling growl echoed from the dark woods behind them.
It wasn't the sound of a beast.
Ren looked around in the silence. Everybody was still staring at him.
The sound came again.. closer this time coming from the bushes behind them.
He turned around in alarm and saw nothing.
Cian was still staring down at him like he was deciding something.
"Is something wrong?" It was Kael that spoke this time.
"That sound…" Ren's voice broke.
"What sound? Did Cian's magic finally make you mad?"
Before Ren could answer a figure stepped out from the shadows.
It wasn't a student.
It was a man in a tattered, ancient Academy robe, he knew that from the pictures in the school galleries, the only place scholarship students were allowed to share with elites.
The figure's eyes glowing with the same silver pits as Elias.
"The Loom has awakened," the man croaked.
His voice sounded straight in Ren's head.
"And the Hunt has only just begun."