The first light of dawn stretched gently across the horizon, painting the sky in soft amber and pale lavender. A crisp breeze rolled through the forest, rustling the treetops as birds began their slow morning chorus.
A single black carriage made its way down a stone-paved road, its wheels creaking softly with each turn. The emblem of House Virellia—a silver phoenix woven in gold thread—adorned its doors, glinting in the morning light.
Inside, three figures sat in calm silence.
Seraphina sat straight-backed, her sword resting beside her. Her silver hair was tied in a neat braid down her back, and her light training armor bore the markings of her recent rise—a Third-Tier swordswoman at only fourteen. Her gaze was steady, focused on the thoughts ahead rather than the road behind.
Beside her sat Sylas, quiet and thoughtful, his hands resting on his lap. He wore a travel cloak over simple clothes, and a satchel filled with alchemy notes and unfinished diagrams leaned against his side. His eyes weren't on the view outside—they were on Seraphina.
Across from them, seated with effortless grace, was Lady Virellia—her mother. Clad in a flowing violet mage's robe that shimmered faintly with layered enchantments, she exuded both quiet authority and elegance. Her expression was unreadable, but the protective magic that softly pulsed from her rings, sleeves, and earrings told a different story. She wasn't here as a noble. She was here as a mother and guardian.
None of them spoke for a long while, but the silence wasn't heavy—it was reflective.
Eventually, the carriage slowed.
The mist outside thickened as they neared a jagged set of cliffs overgrown with ancient vines and worn-down runes. Nestled in the heart of the stone was the Tier-Three Dungeon of East Ridge—its entrance hidden behind a curtain of fog and sealed stone. Even without words, the place radiated danger, old magic, and challenge.
The carriage came to a soft stop.
Lady Virellia stepped out first, her boots touching the moss-covered earth. The air seemed to shift around her, like it recognized the power she carried. Sylas followed after, careful and quiet, and then Seraphina stepped down last.
She paused only for a moment, her eyes fixed on the dungeon entrance.
This was it.
Her trial.
The moment that would define her birthday—not with celebration, but with courage.
"You remember the conditions," Lady Virellia said, her voice calm.
Seraphina nodded. "I enter alone. I clear the dungeon by myself. And I only receive aid… if it's a matter of life and death."
Lady Virellia's expression softened, just slightly. "Correct. I will remain nearby—but I won't interfere unless absolutely necessary."
She reached out, placing a hand gently on Seraphina's shoulder. "You don't need to prove yourself to me. But if you want to earn the treasure your father promised, you must finish this with your own strength."
Seraphina looked up at her mother—not with fear, but quiet confidence. "I'm ready."
She turned to Sylas next. He hadn't said anything the whole ride, but she knew he was watching her more closely than anyone else.
He stepped forward, voice quieter than usual. "You've trained hard for this. Just… be careful."
Seraphina smiled faintly. "I will."
There was a short pause. Then Sylas added, more naturally, "You're the kind of person who doesn't need to rush to prove herself. You're already… enough."
That made her pause for a moment—but she didn't answer. Instead, she gave a soft nod, turned, and approached the dungeon entrance.
The ancient rune-etched doors slowly opened, glowing faintly at her presence. Cool air rushed outward from within, carrying with it the scent of stone, metal, and forgotten magic.
Without hesitation, Seraphina stepped inside.
The doors closed behind her with a soft thrum.
And just like that, she was gone.
Sylas stared at the now-sealed entrance for a long moment.
"Do you think she'll be alright?" he asked softly.
Lady Virellia stood beside him, her eyes gently closed as she attuned herself to the dungeon's ambient magic.
"She has the heart of a swordswoman," she said. "And the will of someone who knows why she fights. That will carry her further than raw talent ever could."
Sylas didn't respond right away. He looked down at the faint boot prints Seraphina had left on the stone.
"She never hesitates," he murmured. "It's like… she already knows who she is."
Lady Virellia opened her eyes and glanced sideways at him. "That doesn't mean she doesn't feel afraid. It just means she keeps moving forward despite it."
The two stood in silence once more—side by side, both watching the ancient doors.
Inside, the trial had begun.
End of chapter