The interior halls of Sankathya didn't feel built.
They felt grown.
Smooth stone walls curved naturally, like the bark of ancient trees, their surfaces etched with glowing runes that pulsed softly—alive, watchful. Floating orbs drifted overhead, their light subtly shifting in tune with the hall's mood. Mana filled the air, humming quietly, steady and constant, as though the Academy itself was breathing.
Students were guided toward a massive open chamber—the Initiation Atrium.
Avdhoot walked among them, surrounded by whispers and hushed excitement. Nervous laughter. Sharp inhales. The sound of destiny approaching, whether anyone was ready or not.
His fingers brushed the letter still hidden inside his coat. The glyph pressed warmly against his chest, as if reminding him it hadn't vanished just because the journey had begun.
"I can't believe it…" Someone murmured behind him.
"We're really here…"
Ahead, four enormous archways stood carved into the stone walls. Each shimmered with a different aura—fire, feathers, frost, and earth.
Above them, glowing inscriptions shifted gently:
Brave Lions — Fall. Rise. Repeat.
Moon Owls — Wisdom sees in silence.
Frost Serpents — Strike unseen. Survive the unknown.
Ember Fangs — We burn to grow.
Before Avdhoot could take another step, someone slammed into his shoulder.
"Move," a smooth voice said, polished and sharp. "You'll want to stay out of the way, Spark."
Avdhoot turned. "Do I know you?"
"You will," the boy replied, cloak flaring—red fabric threaded with gold, pristine and deliberate. "Raivan Duskmoor. Remember it."
As Raivan strode away, another boy slid into place beside Avdhoot, grinning.
"Oi, him?" the boy scoffed. "Walking ego. Name's Veer Arclight. Lightning affinity. Future legend."
He slapped Avdhoot on the back with genuine enthusiasm.
"Congratulations. You're my friend now."
Before Avdhoot could respond, a girl brushed past them—tall, sharp-eyed, her braid tight and disciplined. The air around her hummed faintly, like restrained wind.
"Tara Noxley," she said without slowing. "Wind user. Don't touch my compass."
Veer blinked. "I wasn't gonna—wait, what compass?"
She didn't answer.
Another presence followed—quiet, composed. A girl in silver-accented robes moved through the crowd with calm certainty, hands clasped before her.
"Meira Dellen," she said softly. "Water affinity."
Her gaze lingered on Avdhoot longer than expected.
"I know you," she added. "Your path was… loud."
Before he could ask what she meant, Administrator Irawen Solas's voice echoed through the Atrium.
"Initiates," he announced, "before you stand the Four Paths. These are not choices made by preference or ambition. They are judgments. Chosen not by you—but by your soul."
One by one, students stepped forward.
Some gates pulsed eagerly. Others flickered uncertainly.
Then a small figure approached.
"Aarav Patel."
Barely ten years old. Hands trembling. Fear is written into every step.
Whispers spread through the crowd.
"He's too young…"
"That shouldn't be allowed…"
But Avdhoot understood. Magic didn't wait for permission.
Aarav reached toward the gates.
All four flickered—confused.
Then, slowly… they went dark.
The boy collapsed, sobbing.
Silence fell like a blade.
Fear spread. If the Academy rejected you—what then?
Avdhoot stepped forward.
The gates reacted instantly.
All four shimmered.
Then—
The Lion blazed.
Heatless fire pressed against him—not pain, but expectation.
He walked.
⸻
The Brave Lions' Trial
The path twisted downward into a massive underground coliseum. Braziers roared to life, ancient chants echoing from stone walls that had witnessed centuries of fear and courage.
A tall figure descended.
Professor Kumaraj Rane.
He eyed the new Lions like a war general inspecting recruits.
"Bravery is not recklessness. Strength is not loud. Today, you will face a creature summoned from memory. It will not kill you. But it will know your fears."
Murmurs erupted among the students.
A circle of runes ignited in the center of the coliseum, burning with white-gold light.
One by one, students stepped in.
Some faced storms. Some saw shadows. One boy screamed and fainted before the illusion ended.
From the observation stand above, a 4th-year student watched intently. Kael Vorstin. His expression was focused, analytical, as if he were evaluating each student's power level and emotional state.
When a first-year girl barely survived her trial, visibly shaken, Kael made a note in a small leather book. When another boy showed exceptional courage, Kael's eyes narrowed with interest.
He was cataloguing them. Building profiles.
When his gaze finally landed on Avdhoot standing in the arena, Kael leaned forward. His hand moved to the mirror in his pocket, but he stopped himself. Not yet. Not here. Too many eyes.
But his jaw tightened. Whatever he saw in Avdhoot triggered something—recognition, concern, conflict.
Then, Avdhoot stepped forward.
He entered the circle.
At first, silence.
Then the world twisted.
He stood in the fire.
The figure of black flame, from his dreams, towered before him—claws outstretched, calling his name.
Avdhoot staggered back, heart racing. His breath came in short, panicked gasps. He fell to one knee.
The fire screamed his name—
Avdhoot… Avdhoot… Avdhoot…
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.
Not real. Not real.
But it felt real.
He pulled the crystal fragment from his shirt.
It glowed faintly—pale red light cutting through the black flames.
The fire paused—hesitating, as if recognising something.
Avdhoot stood, legs trembling.
And took one step forward.
Then another.
The flames recoiled.
Until the fire vanished entirely.
Silence fell.
The runes faded. The coliseum returned to normal. Professor Rane's voice returned, contemplative:
"He fears. But walks anyway."
The crowd murmured—some in awe, some in disbelief.
A faint smile tugged at Veer's mouth from the observation stands.
"Legend," he whispered to himself.
Raivan, watching from across the arena, said nothing. But his jaw tightened, and something flickered in his eyes—not rivalry, but calculation. He'd been studying the other students all day, learning their strengths. Avdhoot's fractured mana exploding with that kind of power changed everything. Changed the balance.
In the crowd, a Ministry official stood observing—a woman in dark grey robes, her expression unreadable. She made a note in her own book and touched a concealed communicator at her wrist.
"The fractured one is stronger than predicted," she whispered. "Inform the Director. He needs to know."
Kael, still in the stands, noticed the Ministry official and froze. The two exchanged the briefest of glances—acknowledgement, but not friendship. They were separate chains in the same network.
[End of Chapter 4]