By Sunday evening of the third week, the Academy settled into a rare calm.
Sunday afternoons were one of the few times students were allowed true freedom. The Common Rooms buzzed with relaxed chatter, laughter echoing off stone walls, while others wandered the outer corridors or explored sections of the Academy they rarely had time to see.
Avdhoot and Veer chose movement over rest.
They walked along the Academy's perimeter corridors, following stone paths that curved past training grounds and observation towers, gradually climbing toward the edges where the Academy overlooked the vast wilderness beyond. Far below, Wildwood Valley stretched endlessly—dense forests, jagged ridges, and shadows that hinted at things unseen.
They were moving through a quieter stretch of corridor when someone stepped out from a side passage.
Kael Vorstin.
The fourth-year Frost Serpent wore his House robes loosely, as though rules bent around him rather than the other way around. His posture was relaxed, but his pale eyes were sharp—measuring, calculating.
"Autade," he said calmly, acknowledging Avdhoot. His gaze flicked to Veer. "Arclight."
"Kael," Avdhoot replied, surprised but composed. "Didn't expect to run into you here."
"I could say the same," Kael said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Though I suspect your wandering is less… strategic than mine."
Veer glanced between them, catching the tension instantly. "You two know each other?"
"Not yet," Kael replied, his attention fixed on Avdhoot. "But I've been watching your progress. You're unusual for a first-year."
"So I've been told," Avdhoot said carefully.
Kael stepped closer—not threatening, but deliberate. "Your Sorting Trial stood out. First-years don't usually show that level of instinctive control. It raises questions."
"What kind of questions?" Avdhoot asked.
"The interesting kind," Kael replied. "Who trained you. Where that control comes from. And most importantly…" His voice lowered slightly. "What exactly are you?"
The question lingered, heavier than it sounded.
Before Avdhoot could answer, Veer cut in, defensive. "He's a Lion first-year. Same as the rest of us. Why does it matter?"
Kael's smile widened just enough to be unsettling. "Because people like him attract attention. The right kind—and the wrong kind." His eyes returned to Avdhoot. "This Academy has layers. You're only seeing the surface. Be careful."
With that, Kael turned and disappeared back into the corridor, leaving silence behind him.
Veer exhaled slowly. "Alright. That was unsettling."
"I don't know what he wanted," Avdhoot said, though his fingers brushed the crystal shard in his pocket. It was warmer than usual.
"He wasn't talking to both of us," Veer said. "Just you."
Avdhoot didn't answer. Neither of them believed it was coincidence.
⸻
That evening, when they returned to the Lions' Den, Tara and Meira were seated in the Common Room, books and notes spread between them.
Veer wasted no time. "We ran into Kael Vorstin. Fourth-year Serpent. Said Avdhoot was 'unusual' and warned him about attracting attention."
Tara looked up instantly. "What exactly did he say?"
Avdhoot repeated the conversation. By the time he finished, Tara's expression had shifted into something sharper, more analytical.
"He's not wrong," she said. "Your combat instinct and magical control don't usually coexist in first-years. That kind of balance takes years."
"Your uncle trained you well," Meira added softly. "But Kael notices patterns. If he's paying attention, others might too."
Veer frowned. "Is that bad?"
"That depends," Tara said. "This Academy isn't just classes. There are rivalries, politics, old histories. Being noticed can mean opportunity—or danger."
"Fantastic," Avdhoot muttered.
Meira shook her head slightly. "Not danger yet. Interest. There's a difference. Just stay alert."
The conversation eventually drifted to lighter topics—House gossip, upcoming lectures—but Avdhoot noticed Tara watching him more closely than before.
That night, long after the dormitory fell silent, Avdhoot lay awake with the crystal shard in his hand. Its faint pulse was steady, almost rhythmic.
What are you? He wondered.
And what did Kael already know?
The crystal offered no answers.
⸻
Thursday morning arrived with tension humming through the Academy.
A special assembly was called in the Great Hall, summoning all first- and second-year students, along with selected third-years serving as coordinators. The vast chamber filled quickly, voices overlapping with anticipation.
Professor Vikram Chaudhary stood at the front beside Professor Devendra and several other instructors—Nalini of Herbology, Kapoor of Mantra Studies, Hemant Verma of Potions, and Arjun Thakur of Ancient Runes.
"First-years and second-years," Chaudhary announced, his voice carrying effortlessly. "Today, we announce the Five-Day Campaign."
The hall erupted into whispers.
"For five days," he continued, "you will operate in Wildwood Valley in organised groups. Your objective is to locate and collect rare magical herbs specific to your assigned regions—while surviving."
With a gesture, a massive projection flared into existence, displaying the current House standings after three weeks.
The Frost Serpents led decisively.
"This campaign," Chaudhary said, "is an opportunity. Groups that survive earn House points. Groups that return with quality herb collections earn bonuses. Groups that assist others earn alliance rewards."
A Lion first-year raised her hand. "Sir… aren't campaigns usually for upper-years?"
"They are," Chaudhary replied evenly. "Which is why yours are Tier One and Tier Two zones. You've been prepared for this. Field survival is foundational. You learn it now, or you learn it the hard way later."
He let the words settle before continuing.
"Only two Houses will participate this cycle: the Brave Lions and the Ember Fangs. Moon Owls and Frost Serpents will conduct their campaigns in later rotations."
The projection shifted again.
One by one, the Brave Lions' group assignments appeared—leaders, regions, and objectives made unmistakably clear.
Avdhoot's name appeared first.
He felt the weight of it immediately.
Each group was assigned a distinct region of Wildwood Valley, with specific herb targets and varying levels of danger. No two zones were alike. No assignment was accidental.
When the Ember Fangs' groups appeared next, it was clear their philosophy differed—risk-heavy zones, harsher terrain, fewer safety margins.
Some zones bordered each other. A few overlapped.
Opportunity—or conflict.
The rules followed were strict and unforgiving. Survival above all else. Group integrity is mandatory. No destructive magic beyond limits. No heroics that endangered others.
"Tomorrow," Chaudhary concluded, "group leaders will collect supplies from the Supplemental Room. Departure is at dawn on Friday. Five days. Make them count."
⸻
Thursday afternoon was consumed by strategy.
Avdhoot's group gathered in a quiet corner of the Common Room, maps spread across the table. The Northern Highlands loomed on parchment—rocky terrain, unpredictable weather, and herbs that didn't forgive mistakes.
They planned routes, fallback positions, and emergency responses. Tara questioned every assumption. Meira considered balance and efficiency. Veer focused on adaptability.
Across the room, other Lion groups did the same, each wrestling with their own challenges.
The Ember Fangs gathered separately—louder, more aggressive, but no less serious.
⸻
Friday morning began underground.
The Supplemental Room stretched wide and deep beneath the Academy, its stone floor lined with stacks of equipment, crates, and enchanted containers. Master Santosh, the elderly quartermaster, oversaw distribution with methodical precision.
When Avdhoot's group stepped forward, he consulted his ledger carefully.
Northern Highlands. Starlight Bloom. Ironleaf Bark.
The supplies matched the mission.
Weatherproof tents reinforced against cold. Sleeping rolls rated for freezing nights. Preserved food calibrated for five days of sustained exertion. Sealed water containers. First-aid kits stocked for cuts, burns, and magical exposure.
Protective cloaks bearing the Lion insignia. Reinforced boots. Gloves designed to resist magical plant toxins.
Tools followed—preservation containers for fragile herbs, mana-woven rope for ridges, cutting instruments crafted to harvest without damage. Potions were limited but potent. Navigation tools glowed faintly with enchantment.
Finally, Master Santosh placed a bronze badge in Avdhoot's hand.
"This marks you as a leader," he said. "It carries responsibility. Use it well."
Avdhoot felt its weight settle—not just on his palm, but on his chest.
"Questions?" Master Santosh asked.
"How often do groups actually encounter dangerous beasts?" Tara asked.
"During five-day campaigns?" Master Santosh replied. "Approximately 40% of groups encounter Tier 2 beasts at some point. Most escape or avoid without combat. Combat happens maybe 10% of the time. Deaths are rare—we have safety protocols."
He paused. "But rare doesn't mean impossible. Stay careful."
As Avdhoot's group packed their supplies, they noticed other groups doing the same—a mix of excitement and nervous energy filling the Supplemental Room.
By evening, all groups were ready.
⸻
By Friday evening, the Academy grew quiet.
Groups finalised preparations. Supplies were checked. Maps memorised.
Avdhoot stood by the dormitory window, gazing toward Wildwood Valley as the crystal shard pulsed softly in his hand.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
Five days in the wild. Five days that would test more than skill.
The campaign was about to begin.
None of them knew what they would discover. None of them knew that this campaign would reveal and introduce them to something far more dangerous than they imagined.
[End of Chapter 8]