The academy courtyard was alive with noise. Carriages lined the gates, banners fluttered in the morning wind, and students bustled about in combat gear. The Trial of Ascension was no ordinary test—it was a passage, a crucible that marked who was worthy of advancement, and who would be left behind.
Professor Calvus's voice boomed above the chaos.
"Teams of four. No exceptions. Work together, or be consumed by the ruins."
The words hung heavy. Everyone knew the ruins were dangerous, but danger also meant opportunity. Relics of the old world lay hidden within, fragments of forgotten magic that could reshape one's future.
---
Reinhardt stood alone by the edge of the crowd, observing.
He knew his path wouldn't allow for chance alliances. Trust was currency he couldn't afford to spend recklessly. Yet to walk into the ruins without allies would be suicide—even for him.
"Hey."
He turned. Elira stood there, arms crossed, her usual sharpness softened by a faint smirk.
"You're not planning to walk in there alone, are you?"
Behind her was Alden, grinning as always.
"Thought we'd make a good team. You've already shown you can fight. Why not keep proving it?"
Reinhardt's gaze flicked between them. Elira—intelligent, ambitious, and suspicious of him. Alden—loyal, straightforward, maybe too much so. Both were risks, but also shields against the unknown.
Before he could answer, a shadow fell across them.
Callen.
His wounds had healed, but not his pride.
"I'll say this once," Callen said coldly. "Stay out of my way. If fate puts us in the same ruins, I'll finish what you stole from me."
The venom in his words drew silence around them. Reinhardt didn't reply—only met his glare with calm indifference. That silence was answer enough, and it made Callen's jaw tighten before he stalked away.
---
By noon, teams were chosen. Reinhardt found himself with Elira, Alden, and a quiet, silver-haired healer named Lyra, whose presence was so subtle she was nearly invisible among louder personalities. A balanced team—on paper.
The carriages rattled out of the academy gates, wheels cutting through dirt roads as the northern wilderness swallowed the horizon. Forests loomed, ancient stone roads cracked beneath roots, and the sky turned a heavier shade of grey as if even the heavens knew where they were headed.
Inside the carriage, Elira finally broke the silence.
"The northern ruins aren't just tests. They're remnants of the Old Era. Constructs, traps, curses—you name it. If you think this is just about fighting, you'll die."
Reinhardt listened quietly, his hand resting on his blade. He didn't need her warning. The moment he heard "relics of the old world," something inside him had stirred—a memory not fully his, an echo whispering that the ruins were more than a test.
They were a doorway.
---
By nightfall, the caravan reached the edge of the ruins. Broken towers jutted from the earth like the ribs of a dead god, their stone blackened with age and scarred by battles long forgotten. The air smelled of iron and dust, heavy with the weight of history.
Professor Calvus raised his staff, his voice ringing out.
"The trial begins at dawn. Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow… you face the ruins. Bring back a relic, or do not return at all."
As the students set up campfires, Reinhardt walked a little further into the shadows of the ruins, staring at the jagged horizon. His heartbeat quickened—not from fear, but recognition.
Somewhere within those ruins, he would find answers. To the gaps in his memory. To the fragments of another life. Perhaps even to the reason fate seemed to bind him like a chain.
He whispered, barely audible over the crackle of firelight behind him:
"This is where it begins."