Chapter 20
The final week passed in a blur of frantic preparation and mounting anxiety.
Master Wren modified the training schedule for those of us still recovering from the Ember Veil. Instead of brutal physical conditioning, we focused on practical survival skills—building shelters, purifying water, identifying edible plants, basic first aid.
"The Wilderness will test you in ways the trials didn't," she announced on the first day.
"You won't have healers nearby. You won't have safety measures.
If you break your ankle out there, you'll have to splint it yourself and keep going.
If you eat the wrong plant, you'll suffer the consequences alone. "
She was relentlessly practical, showing us which mistakes could kill us and which would merely make us miserable. How to recognize poisonous berries. Which streams were safe to drink from. How to avoid the territories of dangerous predators that the wards didn't keep out.
"The creatures you hope will bond with you aren't the only inhabitants," she reminded us constantly. "There are wolves, bears, venomous snakes. The wards keep out the truly deadly predators, but plenty of dangerous animals remain. Don't assume you're safe just because you're in the trial space."
I absorbed every lesson with desperate focus. My ankle was healing, the burns fading to pink scars, but I knew I'd be weaker than my peers entering the Wilderness. I couldn't afford to make stupid mistakes.
Professor Kaelith's Mental Defense classes shifted to preparation for isolation.
"Seven days alone is longer than most of you realize," she said, her pale eyes sweeping across us. "You'll have no one to talk to, no external validation, no distraction from your own thoughts. Some candidates break not from creature trials, but from loneliness."
She taught us meditation techniques to combat the isolation, ways to maintain mental clarity when there was no one to anchor us to reality. We practiced extended periods of silence, sitting alone in separate rooms for hours at a time.
It was harder than I expected.
After two hours alone with nothing but my thoughts, I found myself spiraling into anxiety about the trial. After four hours, I was questioning everything—my preparation, my worthiness, whether I'd survive at all.
"Good," Professor Kaelith said when I emerged, shaking. "Now you know what you're facing. The Wilderness will be worse. Use these techniques to stay grounded, or the isolation will break you before any creature tests you."
Professor Veyra's classes became intensely focused on creature behavior and recognition.
"You need to know when a creature is merely observing versus actively testing you," she explained, showing illusions of different scenarios. "A phoenix watching from a tree is observation. A phoenix leading you toward fire is a test. Miss the distinction, and you might flee when you should follow."
She walked us through dozens of examples:
A griffin circling overhead repeatedly—observation. A griffin dropping something in your path and watching your reaction—test.
A basilisk's eyes following you for hours—observation. A basilisk blocking your path and refusing to move—test.
"The creatures are intelligent," she emphasized. "They're not acting on instinct—they're making deliberate choices about whether you're worth their time. Your job is to recognize when you're being evaluated and respond appropriately."
"What if we can't tell the difference?" Petra asked nervously.
"Then you'll likely fail the test without realizing you were being tested.
" Professor Veyra's voice was matter-of-fact.
"This is why observation is crucial. Pay attention to everything.
Patterns of behavior, repeated encounters, unusual actions.
The creatures will signal their intentions if you're perceptive enough to notice. "
My chest tightened, but I forced myself to focus on the practical information about phoenixes, griffins, and basilisks. Those were the realistic options.
Even if some part of me still hoped for the impossible.
The nights were the hardest.
I lay awake, running through everything I'd learned, everything that could go wrong. Seven days in the Wilderness. Seven days of cold, hunger, exhaustion, and the constant anxiety of waiting to be chosen.
What if no creature approached me? What if they all observed and decided I wasn't worth testing? What if I failed not because I wasn't strong enough, but because I simply wasn't interesting enough?
The shadows still didn't come.
Kairen's control remained absolute, and the absence felt like a physical wound. On the worst nights, when my chest ached and anxiety made it hard to breathe, I found myself missing that cold touch that had made everything easier.
But I couldn't let myself think about that. Couldn't let myself want something I'd never have.
I had to focus on survival. On the trial. On proving I belonged here regardless of what Kairen Draxen or his shadows wanted.
Three days before the trial, I had a private meeting with Professor Veyra.
She'd requested I come to her office after classes, and I climbed the stairs to her tower room with mounting nervousness. Had I done something wrong? Was she going to tell me I wasn't ready?
"Sit," she said when I entered, gesturing to a chair across from her desk.
I sat, my hands folded in my lap, waiting.
Professor Veyra studied me for a long moment with those sharp eyes. "How are your injuries healing?"
"Well. The ankle is almost back to normal. The burns don't hurt anymore."
"Good." She leaned forward slightly. "Miss Vale, I wanted to speak with you privately about your essay. The one where you wrote honestly about feeling compatible with light dragons."
My stomach dropped. "I know they're extinct. I know it was probably foolish to—"
"I'm not chastising you." Her voice was surprisingly gentle. "I'm telling you that if you enter the Wilderness still hoping for something extinct, you may miss opportunities with creatures that do exist."
"I know. I've been studying phoenixes, griffins, basilisks—"
"Have you?" She raised an eyebrow. "Or have you been going through the motions while secretly hoping that somehow, impossibly, a light dragon will appear?"
I opened my mouth to deny it, then closed it. Because she was right.
"Miss Vale, hope is not inherently bad. But it becomes dangerous when it blinds you to reality.
" She stood and walked to her window, looking out over the Academy grounds.
"I've taught here for fifteen years. I've seen hundreds of students enter the Wilderness.
And I've watched brilliant candidates fail because they were so fixated on one specific outcome that they missed what was actually being offered to them. "
"I'm not fixated—"
"Aren't you?" She turned to face me. "Your essay was passionate, well-researched, and completely focused on an extinct creature.
Your study sessions with other students show extensive knowledge of light dragon bonds and minimal engagement with realistic options.
You've spent more time reading Elara Moonwhisper's journals than studying actual creature behavior you might encounter. "
The accuracy of her observations stung.
"I want you to succeed," Professor Veyra said, her voice softer now. "I think you have the spirit for bonding—the stubbornness, the refusal to break, the capacity to endure. But you need to open your mind to possibilities beyond the one you've convinced yourself is meant for you."
"What if I'm right, though? What if there is a light dragon out there?"
"Then it will choose you regardless of whether you're actively hoping for it.
" She returned to her desk. "But if you're wrong, and you spend seven days in the Wilderness so focused on watching for something extinct that you miss a phoenix's test or a griffin's interest, you'll return unbonded.
And it will be entirely your own fault."
The words hit hard because they were true.
"What should I do?" I asked quietly.
"Enter the Wilderness with an open mind. Observe everything. Respond to what's actually happening, not what you hope will happen." She met my eyes. "And if, by some impossible chance, a light dragon does appear, trust that you'll recognize it when it matters."
I nodded slowly, absorbing her advice.
"One more thing," Professor Veyra added.
"Whatever is happening between you and Kairen Draxen—and don't insult my intelligence by denying something is happening—set it aside for the next week.
The Wilderness requires complete focus. You cannot afford to be distracted by complicated feelings about a boy who's too broken to act on whatever connection his shadows sense. "
"I'm not—"
"Serenya." She said my name with surprising gentleness.
"I have eyes. I've watched his shadows reach for you since the day you arrived.
I've seen how he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching.
And I've seen how that jealousy flashed across your face when Elise Thorne cornered him in the courtyard. "
Heat flooded my cheeks. "You saw that?"
"Everyone saw that. You're not as subtle as you think.
" She smiled slightly. "But whatever is or isn't between you two, it cannot matter for the next week.
The Wilderness will demand everything you have.
You cannot give it that if part of you is still tangled up in shadow magic and impossible connections. "
"How do I just... set it aside?"
"The same way you've set aside your physical limitations to survive this far.
With stubborn, deliberate focus on what actually matters.
" She stood, signaling the meeting was over.
"You're stronger than you know, Miss Vale.
Strong enough to survive the Wilderness.
Strong enough to earn a bond. Strong enough to let go of what you can't control and focus on what you can. "
I left her office with my mind spinning, her words echoing in my head.
Set it aside. Focus on what matters. Open your mind to possibilities.
Easier said than done.
Two days before the trial, Brooke organized a small gathering in our room—just us, Petra, and a few other first-years we'd befriended during training.
"This might be the last time we're all together like this," she said, her voice uncharacteristically somber.
"After the Wilderness, everything changes.
Some of us will bond, some won't. We'll be in different training tracks, different social circles.
So tonight, we're just... us. Before everything shifts. "
We spent the evening sharing stories, fears, hopes. Petra admitted she was terrified of bonding with something she couldn't handle. Another girl confessed she was more scared of succeeding than failing—of the responsibility that came with a bond.
"What about you, Serenya?" Petra asked. "What are you most scared of?"
I thought about it carefully. "Surviving seven days alone only to realize no creature wants me. That I went through all of this—the Maze, the Ember Veil, weeks of training—and I'm still not enough."
"You're enough," Brooke said fiercely. "Whatever happens out there, you're enough. Remember that."
The gathering broke up late, everyone returning to their rooms with quiet goodbyes and promises to find each other after the trial.
Brooke and I lay in our beds in the darkness, neither of us sleeping.
"Brooke?" I said into the quiet.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For being my friend. For helping me survive this long."
"Don't get sentimental on me. We're both coming back with bonds. This isn't goodbye." But her voice was thick with emotion. "You're going to bond with something amazing, Serenya. I know it."
"What if I don't?"
"Then you try again next year. But you will. Something out there is waiting for you. I'm sure of it."
I wanted to believe her. Wanted to trust that certainty.
But as I lay in the dark, all I could think about was seven days in the Wilderness, alone, hoping for something impossible while trying to stay open to realistic possibilities.
Trying to set aside thoughts of shadow magic and storm-gray eyes and the boy whose rejection still stung.
Trying to focus on survival.
On proving I belonged.
On finding whatever creature might deem me worthy—even if it wasn't the one I'd been hoping for.
The night before we entered the Wilderness, I couldn't sleep at all.
I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, running through everything I'd learned one more time. Survival skills, creature behavior, mental techniques to combat isolation.
At some point past midnight, I felt it—that familiar cold presence at the edge of my awareness.
The shadows had come.
For the first time in over a week, they emerged from beneath my bed. Multiple tendrils, moving with desperate urgency, wrapping around both my wrists before I could even reach out.
Through them, I felt Kairen with devastating clarity.
He was awake, like me. Terrified, like me. But not for himself—for me.
The shadows pulsed frantically, and I understood the message: Don't die. Please, please don't die. Come back. I need you to come back.
More emotion than he'd ever allowed through before. More honesty than he'd managed in person.
The shadows tightened around my wrists, almost painful in their desperation.
I'm coming back, I thought at them, not knowing if he could understand. I'm surviving this. I promise.
The shadows held me for a long moment, as if trying to memorize the feel of my skin, the warmth of my pulse beneath their cold touch.
Then, slowly, they loosened. But they didn't retreat yet.
Instead, they pulsed again—softer this time, carrying a different emotion. Regret. Sorrow. Shame.
And through them, I felt words. Not spoken, but communicated through pure feeling, pure intention:
I'm sorry.
The shadows tightened briefly, emphasizing the emotion.
I'm sorry I can't be what you need. I'm sorry I keep running. I'm sorry for all of it.
The raw honesty in that apology made my throat tighten. This was more vulnerability than Kairen had ever shown me face-to-face. More truth than he'd managed to speak aloud.
The shadows conveyed one more feeling—desperate, terrified hope.
Come back. Please come back alive. Then maybe... maybe I can try. Maybe I can stop running.
It wasn't a promise. It was barely even a possibility.
But it was more than he'd ever given me before.
The shadows reluctantly retreated, sliding back beneath the bed, leaving my wrists cold and tingling.
I lay there in the darkness, tears streaming down my face for reasons I couldn't fully name.
He was sorry. He wanted to try. He needed me to survive.
It wasn't enough to fix everything broken between us. Wasn't enough to undo all the rejection and hurt.
But it was something.
A crack in the walls he'd built so high. A glimpse of the person buried beneath all that ice and control.
Tomorrow, I'd enter the Wilderness.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
But tonight, for just a moment, I'd felt something real from Kairen Draxen. An apology. A confession. A desperate plea for me to survive so he could try to be brave enough to stop running.
And somehow, that made facing tomorrow slightly less impossible.
Because now I had two reasons to survive the Wilderness.
To prove I belonged.
And to come back and see if Kairen Draxen could finally be honest when his shadows weren't speaking for him.