The day before departure passed in a blur of enchanted checklists, forged sigils, and subtle glances that said more than words ever could.
Teams scattered across the campus grounds....some practicing combat formations in the training fields, others rehearsing spells until their mana cores pulsed sore. There were nerves, of course. Bragging to mask it. Laughter to soften it. But beneath it all, the Vale loomed in the thoughts of every student.
The Whispering Vale. A name spoken with careful breath. Reverent and Fearful. They said the forest was alive....not in the way plants were, but something older. A sliver of a forgotten world. Some claimed it was sentient. Others insisted it was just magic echoing off itself endlessly. But one thing was certain... It changed people.
Kaela tightened the straps on her expedition gear just outside the common barracks. Her sleeves were rolled, hands dirty with rune-oil and grease from repairing the grip on her staff. She had refused magical assistance, muttering something about "earning the feel of it."
Nyxar approached her with quiet steps, his boots crunching softly on the gravel. He wore his academy cloak loose, the edge frayed just enough to irritate the instructors. Though none dared to call it out anymore. His sigil band glowed faintly against his wrist. The team was registered and there was no turning back.
"Need help with that?" he asked.
She glanced up, surprised. "Didn't hear you coming."
"You rarely do."
Kaela smirked, tossed a small wrench at his chest. He caught it one handed.
"I'm done anyway," she said, wiping her hands on a rag. "Just checking for symmetry."
"I thought the staff bends on purpose."
"Exactly. I still like knowing where the bend begins."
Rythe came stumbling into view not long after, juggling a set of potion vials and half-eaten bread. "Okay, so we have exactly six overcharged null-bombs, three heat-reversal flasks, and a loaf of bread that I may have borrowed permanently from the kitchens."
Renn stomped up behind him, snatched the bread, and took a bite. "We'll need protein too. Not just sugar spells and alchemical fireworks."
Alisya arrived last, her glaive strapped across her back like a silent vow. She nodded to the others but said nothing, as usual.
Nyxar looked at his team....this odd group that barely knew one another, yet now shared the same thread of fate. They were young. Not inexperienced, but young in ways only real danger could change.
And the Whispering Vale would change them.
They gathered that evening beneath the tall dusklights of the East Courtyard, where all the expedition teams were to receive final briefings. The Headmaster did not attend, Nor did any member of the Circle. Instead, Instructor Veyra stood atop the steps, arms crossed behind her back, her silver pauldron catching the last light of the sun.
"Listen closely," she said, without delay. "The Vale opens at dawn. Once inside, you'll navigate to your assigned glade. Each team's keystone artifact is sealed in a different area....coded to your sigil signature. You must retrieve it intact."
She paused.
"There is... something else you should know. The Whispering Vale was once an Arcane Vault. A place where the founders stored living enchantments....things too unstable to house within walls. Some of these artifacts weren't just magical. They were aware."
The crowd quieted.
"Don't touch anything unless it's bound to your sigil. Don't follow voices that come from nowhere. And above all....stay with your team. Even shadows can lie in that place." She stepped down, handed out final sigil scrolls to each team, and vanished into the growing dark.
That night, Nyxar couldn't sleep. The dorms were too loud. The beds too warm. He slipped out without a sound and climbed to the rooftop of the West Wing, his usual escape. The stars were clearer here. Wind pushed through his cloak. He let it.
Down below, lamplight flickered across ancient stone walkways. Beyond the walls, the mountains beyond Vaelcrest bowed their craggy heads. And past those, somewhere hidden beneath enchanted mists, the Vale waited.
It wasn't fear that kept him awake; it was a completely different matter. He sensed a pull, akin to a cord in his chest softly drawing him toward the woods, towards something inside it. A recollection that belonged to someone else, and a heartbeat reverberating within the Core.
"Thinking of chickening out?" Kaela's voice floated from behind him.
He didn't flinch. "I thought you would come along."
She moved next to him, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm from the chill. "Is this something you do regularly?"
"Only when I have to think."
"What's on your mind at the moment?"
He paused. "That we're entering into something more than a trial."
She was quiet for a bit before responding, "I trust you."
He shifted a bit, astonished. "You do?"
Kaela shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure what thoughts are spinning in your mind, but I've noticed how the Instructors look at you when you're not looking." It's as if they're waiting for something...
"Jaro, as well."
Nyxar's expression became stern. "What's his deal?"
"He's part of a notable Fireborn lineage," Kaela said softly. "His father was a creator of one of the significant mana-mining guilds." Jaro was expected to easily secure a top position, but his Test was—unimpressive. He's now eager to demonstrate his worth, viewing your influence as a danger to his reputation.
Nyxar nodded gradually. It was logical.
"Therefore, you are an opponent, not merely a curiosity," she determined.
"Just like that." He stopped, then continued, "However, this seems more significant than Jaro. "It feels as though the Vale is a part of me, or desires to be."
Kaela took a moment before replying. After some time, she lightly tapped his shoulder. "Whatever's inside, Nyx… just make sure it doesn't consume you."
He issued a stifled chuckle. "That moment has passed."
They remained quiet while the stars moved above them.
In the heart of the Whispering Vale, under old bark and roots that had never seen the sun, something stirred. It wasn't fully awake yet, but it remembered a presence—a shape, a soul that had brushed against its essence long ago.
Nyxar.
It had no voice, not yet, but it had instinct. And that instinct burned with a single whisper: Return.