Chapter 13
I waited in the North Tower observation room for two hours.
The space was exactly as I'd imagined from Caleb's description—a circular chamber with tall windows overlooking the Academy grounds, abandoned furniture covered in dust, moonlight painting everything in shades of silver and shadow. Beautiful, in a melancholy way.
Empty.
I'd arrived just after dinner, climbed those eight flights of stairs with trembling legs and burning lungs, and settled by the eastern window to wait.
The sun set. The Academy lights flickered on one by one. Students' voices drifted up from the courtyards below, gradually fading as everyone retreated to their dormitories for the night.
Kairen never came.
I told myself I'd wait until midnight. That maybe he needed time to build up courage, to overcome whatever terror kept him running.
Midnight came and went.
At some point past one in the morning, I finally accepted the truth: he wasn't coming. He'd received my message through the shadows—I was certain of that, based on how desperately they'd clung to me before retreating. But he'd made his choice.
Distance. Control. Rejection.
Same as always.
I made my way back down the tower stairs slowly, each step feeling like defeat. My legs shook with exhaustion. My chest ached with more than just physical strain.
I'd offered him a chance. A real, honest chance to stop running and actually talk.
And he'd chosen not to take it.
The message was clear.
"He didn't show," I told Brooke the next morning.
She looked up from lacing her boots, her expression darkening. "That absolute—"
"It's fine."
"It's not fine. He's a coward."
"Maybe. Or maybe he's just too broken to let himself try." I pulled on my uniform, my movements mechanical. "Either way, Professor Veyra was right. I need to stop letting this affect me. Focus on the Maze, on my own training. Let him figure out his own problems."
Brooke studied me for a long moment. "You're really going to let it go?"
"I have to. The Maze is in six days. I can't afford to be distracted anymore." I met her eyes. "And honestly? I'm tired, Brooke. Tired of reaching for someone who keeps pulling away. Tired of waiting for shadows that might not come. Tired of feeling like I'm fighting a battle I can't win."
"So what are you going to do?"
"Survive. Train. Prove that I belong here regardless of what Kairen Draxen thinks about me." My voice hardened. "And hope that when I get to the Wilderness, whatever creature observes me sees something worth choosing."
"Even if it's not a light dragon?"
The question hung in the air between us.
I'd been so focused on light dragons, on the impossible hope that one still existed, on the connection with Kairen's shadows that seemed to suggest I was meant for something extinct and rare.
But what if I was wrong? What if my compatibility was with something else entirely? What if I'd been so fixated on one possibility that I'd blinded myself to others?
"Even if it's not a light dragon," I said finally. "I just want to bond with something. Anything. I want to prove I'm not too weak, too sick, too broken for this."
Brooke nodded slowly. "Then let's make sure you survive the Maze. Because you can't bond with anything if you fail out in six days."
I threw myself into preparation with single-minded focus.
Every spare moment was spent in Mental Defense practice—either in Professor Kaelith's increasingly brutal classes or in private study sessions with other first-years. I helped them break illusions, and they helped me refine my techniques.
Petra became a regular study partner. She was naturally anxious, which made her vulnerable to fear-based illusions, but she had a sharp analytical mind that complemented my instinctive approach.
"You feel your way through illusions," she observed one evening in the library. "I try to think my way through. Maybe we need both."
We developed a system—combining emotional awareness with logical analysis. When Professor Kaelith trapped us in a shared illusion the next day, we broke through it in record time.
"Interesting," Professor Kaelith said, her pale eyes moving between us. "Collaborative Mental Defense. Not traditionally taught, but effective. Continue."
Physical training remained brutal, but I found ways to pace myself better. Master Wren noticed and, surprisingly, didn't comment. Just watched with those sharp eyes as I walked when I needed to walk, ran when I could run, and never quit.
"You're learning strategy," she said one afternoon after I'd completed a modified version of her conditioning routine. "Good. The Wilderness doesn't care if you're the fastest or strongest. It cares if you're smart enough to survive."
Small victories, but they accumulated.
By the end of the week, I felt different. Steadier. Less like I was drowning and more like I was finally learning to swim.
The shadows still came some nights. Not as frequently—Kairen must have been fighting harder to suppress them. But occasionally, they'd slip through his control and find their way to my room.
I let them come. Let them wrap around my wrist, ease my breathing, provide their brief comfort.
But I stopped sending messages through them. Stopped trying to communicate with Kairen through his own magic.
If he wanted to talk to me, he knew where to find me.
He never did.
Five days before the Maze trial, Professor Veyra made an announcement that sent the first-years into a frenzy.
"The Ember Veil trial has been scheduled," she said at the end of Creature Taxonomy. "One week after the Maze. Those who survive the Maze will face the Ember Veil exactly seven days later."
Hands shot up immediately.
"What's the Ember Veil?" someone asked.
"A physical trial," Professor Veyra explained.
"Where the Maze tests mental resilience, the Ember Veil tests physical endurance and willpower.
You'll enter a magically constructed environment designed to push your body to its limits—heat, cold, obstacles, exhaustion.
The trial ends when you reach the center and claim your marker, or when you collapse. "
"What's the failure rate?" Petra asked, her voice tight.
"Approximately forty percent." Professor Veyra's tone was matter-of-fact. "Most failures come from physical collapse or choosing to withdraw before permanent damage occurs. The trial is designed to be brutal but not lethal—though accidents happen."
The room erupted in anxious whispers.
"The Ember Veil is particularly relevant for those hoping to bond with phoenixes," Professor Veyra continued once the noise died down.
"Phoenix trials often involve walking through fire, enduring extreme heat, proving your will is stronger than your survival instinct.
The Ember Veil simulates that experience. "
She gestured, and an illusion materialized above her desk—a vast chamber filled with flames, shifting obstacles, and a distant central platform where a glowing marker waited.
"You'll face this trial alone. No assistance, no magic beyond your weak unbonded abilities, no weapons.
Just your body, your will, and your refusal to quit.
" Her eyes swept across us. "I suggest you use the week between trials to build your physical endurance as much as possible.
Those who enter the Ember Veil unprepared will not emerge unscathed. "
The class ended in subdued silence. Students filed out looking shell-shocked.
"First the Maze, then the Ember Veil a week later," Brooke muttered as we left. "They're really trying to kill us before we even get to the Wilderness."
"They're weeding out anyone who can't handle the bonding trials," I said. "Better to fail here than die in the Wilderness."
"Cheerful." But Brooke's expression was worried. "Serenya, the Ember Veil is a physical trial. You can barely handle Master Wren's conditioning. How are you going to survive something designed to push healthy students to collapse?"
"The same way I survive everything else. By refusing to quit."
"That's not a strategy—that's stubbornness."
"It's all I have."
Brooke opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. She knew as well as I did that I didn't have other options. I couldn't build muscle mass in a week. Couldn't fix lungs that had been weak since birth. Couldn't transform into someone physically capable.
All I could do was endure.
That evening, Caleb found me in the library.
I'd been expecting this conversation eventually. Surprised it had taken this long, honestly.
"Can we talk?" he asked, his usual cheerfulness notably absent.
"About your brother?" I kept my voice neutral.
"Yeah." He slid into the chair across from me, looking more serious than I'd ever seen him. "He told me what happened. In the North Tower. What he said to you."
"Did he tell you I asked him to meet me and he didn't show?"
Caleb winced. "No. But that sounds like him. Running is what he does best." He was quiet for a moment. "Look, I'm not here to make excuses for him. What he said was cruel and unfair. But I wanted you to understand something about Kairen."
"I don't need to understand him. I need to focus on my own training."
"Just listen. Please." Caleb leaned forward.
"When Kairen bonded with Nyx, I watched him die.
Literally. His heart stopped for almost three minutes.
The healers got it started again, but he was unconscious for three days.
And when he woke up..." His voice cracked slightly.
"He wasn't my brother anymore. He looked like Kairen, sounded like Kairen.
But the person inside was different. Colder.
Emptier. Like someone had reached inside him and turned off all the lights. "
"I know. He told me."
"Did he tell you that for the first year after bonding, he couldn't be around people at all? That his shadows would attack anyone who got too close? That our father had to keep him isolated in the family estate because he was too dangerous to be in public?"
I shook my head.
"It took him a full year to achieve basic control.
Another year to be functional in society.
By the time he came back to the Academy, he'd built walls so high and thick that nothing got through.
No joy, no pain, no connection. Just cold control.
" Caleb's eyes were red. "And then you showed up, and his shadows started reaching for you, and I saw something I haven't seen in five years. "
"What?"
"Fear. Real, genuine fear. Not the controlled awareness of danger—actual terror.
" Caleb's voice was soft. "Kairen hasn't been afraid of anything since the bond.
He's been cold, calculating, always in control.
But his shadows reaching for you against his will?
That terrifies him. Because it means he's losing the one thing that's kept him functional. "
"So I should just... what? Stay away? Let him keep suppressing his shadows until they consume him?"
"No." Caleb sighed. "I don't know what you should do. I just wanted you to understand why he's pushing so hard. It's not because you don't matter—it's because you matter too much. Because his magic has decided you're important, and that's threatening everything he's built to survive."
"That doesn't excuse what he said to me."
"No, it doesn't. He was cruel. He'll probably be cruel again if you give him another chance." Caleb met my eyes. "The question is whether you think he's worth fighting for despite that."
I thought about it. Really thought about it.
Kairen Draxen—cold, brutal, rejecting every attempt I made to help. Someone so broken by his bond that he couldn't let himself feel anything real. Someone who'd stood me up when I'd offered him a genuine chance to talk.
Was he worth fighting for?
"I don't know," I said honestly. "Maybe before. But I have six days until the Maze, one week after that until the Ember Veil, and then the Wilderness beyond. I can't afford to keep throwing myself at someone who doesn't want to be saved."
"That's fair." Caleb stood. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right call. Telling him to show up or let it go. Setting a boundary. That's more than most people dare to do with Kairen."
"Lot of good it did."
"Maybe. Or maybe it's the first time in five years someone's forced him to actually make a choice instead of just running on autopilot." He managed a weak smile. "Either way, I hope you survive the Maze. Brooke would be devastated if you didn't, and I've gotten kind of attached to her."
"She's gotten attached to you too."
"I know. It's terrifying." But his smile was genuine now. "Good luck, Serenya. With everything."
He left, and I returned to my studying, trying to ignore the hollow ache in my chest that had nothing to do with my condition.
That night, the shadows didn't come.
The night after, they didn't come.
Three nights before the Maze trial, my room stayed empty and dark and ordinary.
Kairen had finally won. Finally achieved the control he'd been fighting for.
Or maybe he'd just decided I wasn't worth the battle anymore.
Either way, the message was clear.
We were done.
I told myself it was for the best. That I needed to focus anyway. That letting go of impossible hope would free me to concentrate on realistic goals.
I told myself a lot of things.
None of them made the absence hurt less.
Two days before the Maze, Master Wren pulled me aside after Physical Conditioning.
"Vale. Walk with me."
I followed her to the edge of the training yard, my heart pounding. Was I being withdrawn? Had someone reported that I was too weak for the trials?
"You've improved," Master Wren said without preamble. "Not physically—you're still a disaster waiting to happen in that regard. But mentally. Strategically. You've learned to work within your limitations instead of pretending they don't exist."
"Thank you?"
"It wasn't a compliment. It was an observation.
" She crossed her arms. "The Maze will be hard for you.
Not because you're mentally weak—you're not.
But because physical stress can break mental defenses.
If your body is failing while you're trying to maintain clarity, you might not have the resources to fight off illusions. "
"I know."
"Do you?" Her sharp eyes assessed me. "Because I've watched you push through pain for weeks now, and I've seen what it costs you. The Maze will cost more. It will push you until your body wants to shut down, and then it will push harder. You need to be prepared for that."
"How do I prepare for something designed to break me?"
"By deciding beforehand what you're willing to lose." Master Wren's voice was surprisingly gentle. "The Maze will offer you an out. An easy exit. A way to make the pain stop. Most students who fail take that exit. They choose comfort over completion."
"I won't quit."
"Everyone says that. Few mean it." She paused. "But I think you might. The question is whether your body will let you follow through."
She dismissed me without another word, leaving me standing at the edge of the training yard, wondering if she was right.
What would I do if my body gave out in the Maze? If my lungs failed, my legs collapsed, my vision went dark?
Would I crawl? Would I drag myself forward on sheer will alone?
Or would I finally accept that some limitations couldn't be overcome by stubbornness?
I didn't know.
And in two days, I'd find out.