Weeks had passed since Eryon returned to the Academy.
Though the familiar stone halls and bustling courtyards welcomed him, something within him had changed—something deep, invisible to the eye, but present in every step he took.
The morning he received his reassignment scroll, Serana met him at the outer gates.
"Remember," she said, her voice low. "No one must know you carry the Flame of the Beginning."
Eryon nodded.
"Officially," she continued, "you completed a specialized field training mission. No relics, no secrets, no awakenings. If word spreads... you will be hunted."
Her golden eyes held his firmly.
"And even I might not be able to reach you in time."
With those final words, she turned and disappeared into the crowds, her duty fulfilled.
Eryon made his way to the central courtyard, where familiar faces awaited.
Kael spotted him first, waving him over with a grin.
"Took you long enough! We thought you'd gone off to become some desert hermit or something."
Ryn smirked. "Or joined a secret order."
Eryon chuckled lightly, keeping Serana's warning in mind.
"Nothing that dramatic. Just... a lot of conditioning. Strength, endurance, elemental control."
Kael elbowed him. "Well, you're going to need it. New semester's starting—harder than ever."
They chatted for a while, trading stories about minor missions and local skirmishes, but Eryon kept the core truth buried, locked behind careful words and easy smiles.
When the Academy bells rang, they filed into the grand lecture hall.
Eryon's eyes swept the crowd—and found her.
Alice.
Standing near one of the upper staircases, speaking quietly to a small group. For a brief moment, her silver gaze met his.
They both nodded subtly, an acknowledgment without words.
No anger remained.
Only something more tempered.
The instructor—a stern woman clad in deep blue robes—strode to the center dais.
"Welcome back," she said, voice crisp. "You stand now at the threshold between students and warriors."
The hall stilled.
"This year," she continued, "marks the beginning of your training to become true Stellar Forgers."
Murmurs rippled through the rows.
"By the end of your second year," she said, "you are expected to achieve Initial Stellar Forging. Those who fail will be expelled from the Academy."
The silence sharpened.
"You will be broken down. Rebuilt. Tempered. If you endure, you will ascend. If you falter... there is no second chance."
Eryon felt his blood stir, not with fear—but with a burning anticipation.
He had walked through flames far hotter than any forge.
And he would walk through these, too.
Higher.
Brighter.
Until the heavens themselves had no choice but to acknowledge him.