The sky above Umbravale darkened early.
Clouds moved too evenly. Wind whispered too softly. The academy grounds, normally humming with the low rhythms of training and chatter, had gone silent.
Students gathered in the central arena tiered stone rising around a circular floor etched with seven concentric rings. Each ring pulsed faintly with light.
Kieran stood among the crowd, his team at his sides. Calla's arms were crossed, brow furrowed. Rei looked restless. Talon stretched his fingers absently, eyes flicking around. Selene watched everything and nothing all at once.
Across the ring, other academies were arriving.
Ashlock. Tyrhall. Northspire. Vyrehold. Vareen. Skyreach. Emberdeep.
Each team entered through a separate archway, dressed in different colors, bearing different crests. Most came in formation shoulders back, heads high, pride held like a sword.
Umbravale did not.
Their students simply stood, scattered and quiet. But not unready.
A deep tone rang through the arena low, slow, and final.
Head Instructor Corvan stepped into the center. With him, a smaller figure trailed close behind Veyna, her dark coat unmoving despite the breeze.
Corvan raised his voice. No amplification. Just presence.
"The Dreamforged Arena opens now."
The murmurs stopped.
"It is not illusion. Not a projection. Not practice. It is made from sealed divine fragments memory, spirit, and will. You will enter it as you are. Your bodies remain here. Your minds go there."
> "You will bleed. You will tire. You will die. But not truly."
He looked at no one in particular, and yet everyone at once.
"When you fall, you wake. You lose. The body stays unharmed. The mind, however, does not always forget."
"Victory earns ranking. Defeat earns memory. Each trial within the Arena will be different."
A soft blue flame ignited at each of the seven archways. One by one, the light twisted upward into vertical pools of shimmer gates into the Dreamforged Arena.
"The first trial begins now. You may bring only what you can carry. Your teams must enter together."
"Each group has been seeded. You will not face teams from your own academy in the first round."
Veyna's voice cut through, flat and cold.
"There will be no warnings. No resets. No second chances."
Then, softer:
"And remember. You are not alone in there."
Rei tensed. "That's comforting."
Calla's eyes scanned the teams across from them. "Ashlock's got five. Northspire's armored. Tyrhall… are those twins?"
Talon pointed toward a distant arch. "Vyrehold's gate only lit once."
They turned.
One figure stood there. Alone.
He didn't step forward. He didn't glance around. He simply existed, as if he'd been waiting before anyone else arrived.
Kieran couldn't read him. Couldn't sense him.
But when the figure finally moved toward the gate, something inside Kieran's shadow curled tight like recognition. Or warning.
No name was called. No introduction was made.
But the others knew.
Victor had arrived.
And the Arena would not forget it.