The echoes of the Bone Flame still burned in Sorin's mind when the summons came from the Academy—sharp, insistent, like the heat from that trial's last embers. Word of his next challenge spread through the campus like wildfire, carrying curiosity, apprehension, and an undercurrent of thrill. Students whispered in vaulted corridors, instructors exchanged knowing glances, and even the wind in the courtyard seemed to still—as if the Spiral itself paused to listen.
This was no ordinary summons. It called for the Grand Convergence, a trial not held in a generation. Aspirants would form teams of six, chosen for loyalty, skill, and synergy. The right combination could mean glory. The wrong one could mean death.
The Hall of Choosing was a great circular chamber, its walls alive with shifting Spiral glyphs that pulsed in rhythm with unseen currents. Names were called one by one. Sorin's choices were deliberate—he secured those who had stood beside him in fire and bone. Dren, now bearing a faint Spiral shimmer along his forearm, clasped Sorin's hand firmly. Arienna, her pride tempered by trial, met his gaze with a nod. Kaelith, still guarded but unwavering, stepped forward. Liora, the silent archer whose Spiral‑etched arrows never missed, took her place without a word. Last came Bram, the hulking warrior with a laugh as deep as his loyalty.
They stood together—six threads woven into a single, unyielding braid, each having walked a Path laid out in the Prologue, their trials shaping the weave of fate.
Four rival powers soon assembled:
The Obsidian Fang – Led by Valrik the Blade, mercenary‑hardened and merciless.
The Azure Veil – Seris Vey's masters of illusion and elemental trickery.
The Iron Warden – Garron's shield‑bearers, unbreakable as the walls they defended.
The Emberclaw Pact – Thalen's fire‑wielders and beast‑binders, chaos given form.
The Grand Convergence would take them through an ancient portal into a realm shaped by Spiral currents—where skies bled iridescent light, where the stones whispered forgotten grief, and where monsters from legend hunted in shadow. It would test not only skill, but trust, will, and the truths each carried.
The rewards were dazzling and deadly: an ancient relic of fate for the victors; a Master Seer's apprenticeship for second place; a rare Spiral glyph for third; a Codex fragment for fourth. Failure promised scars that would never fade… or no return at all.
The portal itself was an arch of blackened stone veined with cooling fire, breathing air thick with ash and ozone. A low hum emanated from its core, vibrating through Sorin's bones—a silent invitation and a warning. Around them, rival teams prepared: some boasting, some silent and grim, all with eyes locked on the burning arch.
Dren's grin was steady, Arienna's gaze calculating, Kaelith's fingers tight on her hilt, Liora's eyes sharp as drawn steel, Bram's stance grounded like bedrock. Sorin felt the Bone Flame's memory stir in his chest, now braided with anticipation and resolve.
The bell tolled. The arch erupted in molten gold, light cascading over the courtyard. One by one, teams stepped forward and vanished into the radiance. The Spiral's hum deepened, curling warm and electric through Sorin's heart.
Without hesitation, Sorin led his team. The light swallowed them whole, the Academy dissolving into brilliance. Ahead lay a realm that would push them to the edge—and perhaps shape them into exactly what the Spiral intended them to be.