Chapter 21
Dawn broke gray and cold over the Academy.
We assembled in the main courtyard—forty-seven first-years, dressed in identical brown traveling clothes, each carrying a small pack with our meager supplies.
Professors lined the edges of the space, their expressions ranging from encouraging to grimly professional.
Master Wren checked weapons—making sure each knife was properly sharpened but not enhanced.
Professor Kaelith inspected our mental states with those pale, assessing eyes.
Professor Veyra moved through the crowd, offering last-minute reminders about creature behavior.
I stood with Brooke, both of us silent. There was nothing left to say. Everything that mattered had been said last night.
Headmistress Thorne stepped forward, her presence commanding immediate silence.
"Today you enter the Wilderness," she began, her voice magically amplified. "For seven days, you will be alone. You will be cold, hungry, exhausted. You will face challenges we cannot predict. Some of you will bond. Some will return to try again. All of you will be changed."
She paused, letting her gaze sweep across us.
"Remember your training. Remember your strength. And remember that the creatures are watching. Everything you do—every choice, every moment of courage or fear—is being evaluated." Her voice softened slightly. "Trust yourselves. Trust your instincts. And may you find what you're meant for."
She gestured, and professors began calling names, directing students toward different portal points around the courtyard. Each portal led to a different sector of the Wilderness—far enough apart that we'd never encounter each other during the trial.
"Brooke Barnard! Sector Seven!"
Brooke turned to me, her green eyes bright with unshed tears. She pulled me into a fierce hug.
"Survive," she whispered. "Come back with a bond. And then we'll celebrate together."
"You too."
She released me and walked toward her portal, her spine straight, her steps confident even though I knew she was terrified.
More names. More students disappearing through shimmering portals.
"Serenya Vale! Sector Twelve!"
My heart hammered as I approached the indicated portal—a vertical shimmer of silver light that hummed with contained magic. Professor Veyra stood beside it.
"Remember," she said quietly, for my ears only. "Open mind. Observe everything. Let go of what you can't control."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"And Miss Vale?" She almost smiled. "Survive. I want to know if you were right about light dragons."
Before I could respond, she gestured me forward.
I stepped through the portal, and the world dissolved into light and vertigo. For one disorienting moment, I was nowhere—suspended in magical transition, neither at the Academy nor in the Wilderness.
Then solid ground appeared beneath my feet, and I stumbled forward onto forest soil.
The portal snapped shut behind me with a sound like breaking glass.
I was alone.
The Wilderness was vast in a way the Academy grounds had never prepared me for.
Ancient trees stretched upward, their canopy so dense that only scattered sunlight penetrated to the forest floor. The air smelled of earth and pine and something wild I couldn't name. Birdsong echoed from every direction, punctuated by rustling leaves and distant animal calls.
I stood frozen for a moment, just taking it in.
Seven days. I had seven days in this place.
Focus. Assess. Survive.
I took stock of my situation. The portal had deposited me in a small clearing.
Around me, the forest stretched in every direction with no obvious path.
My pack contained: one knife strapped to my belt, flint and steel for fire, two days' worth of dried rations, a water skin half-full, and a bedroll.
Master Wren's training kicked in automatically.
First priority: water. I could hear a stream somewhere to my east—the sound of running water was distinct once I listened for it. Second priority: shelter for tonight. Third priority: food, though the rations would last until tomorrow if I was careful.
I started walking east, toward the water sound, marking my path by breaking small branches at eye level. Getting lost was one of the easiest ways to die out here.
The stream, when I found it, was cold and clear, running over smooth stones. I refilled my water skin, added purification tablets from the basic supplies, and drank deeply. My throat was parched from nerves, and the cold water was a relief.
As I drank, I scanned my surroundings. Looking for signs of creatures observing me. Looking for anything unusual.
Nothing. Just forest, stream, the ordinary sounds of wilderness.
I wasn't sure if that was reassuring or terrifying.
According to Professor Veyra, creatures typically didn't approach on the first day. They observed from a distance, evaluating multiple candidates before deciding who was worth closer examination.
So I was probably being watched. I just couldn't see by what.
The thought made my skin prickle.
Let them watch. Show them someone who survives.
I spent the afternoon doing exactly what Master Wren had trained me for—establishing a base camp.
I found a good spot near the stream but elevated enough to avoid flooding: a rocky overhang that would provide shelter from rain.
I gathered firewood, built a fire pit with a ring of stones, laid out my bedroll.
By the time evening fell, I had a small, functional camp.
I ate half of one ration pack—dried meat and hard bread that tasted like dust but provided calories. Sat by my small fire as darkness crept through the forest. Listened to the sounds around me shift from day creatures to night ones.
And tried not to think about how alone I was.
How quiet it was without other human voices.
How seven days suddenly felt impossibly long.
You've trained for this. You can handle isolation. Remember Professor Kaelith's techniques.
I focused on my breathing. On the physical sensations around me—the warmth of the fire, the hardness of stone beneath me, the slight ache in my ankle that still hadn't fully healed.
Reality. Present moment. Survival.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled me toward sleep. I banked the fire, crawled into my bedroll, and stared up at the canopy where stars peeked through gaps in the leaves.
My last thought before sleep took me was of shadows wrapping around my wrists. Of Kairen's desperate apology and his plea for me to survive.
I'm surviving. Watch me prove we were both right.
Day two dawned with birdsong and the uncomfortable realization that sleeping on stone, even with a bedroll, was brutal on a body already worn down by trials.
I ate the rest of yesterday's ration, drank more water, and assessed my situation.
Still alone. Still no obvious signs of creatures watching.
But Professor Veyra had warned about this—the first two days were often quiet. Creatures observing from a distance, making initial assessments, deciding who was worth their time.
Be worth their time. Show them someone who doesn't quit.
I spent the morning foraging—identifying edible plants Master Wren had taught us about, gathering berries that were safe, digging up roots that could supplement my rations.
It was tedious work, but necessary. Two days of rations wouldn't last seven days, and I needed to prove I could survive without Academy support.
Around midday, I heard it.
A sound that didn't belong to the forest's natural rhythm. A rustling in the underbrush, too deliberate to be wind. Too large to be a small animal.
Something was watching me.
My heart rate spiked, but I forced myself to continue foraging as if I hadn't noticed. Professor Veyra's words echoed: Don't react to observation. Act natural. Let them evaluate you doing what you need to survive.
The rustling continued, circling my position. Sometimes close, sometimes distant. Always just out of sight.
I gathered plants. Checked my water supply. Returned to camp and organized my foraged food.
The rustling followed but never revealed itself.
By evening, it had stopped entirely.
I sat by my fire, eating foraged berries and the last of my rations, and tried to analyze what had happened.
Something had observed me. For hours. But hadn't approached or tested me.
Initial evaluation, maybe. A creature deciding if I was worth closer examination.
Or—and this thought made my chest tight with anxiety—a creature deciding I wasn't interesting enough and moving on to observe other candidates.
Don't spiral. You can't control what they choose to do. You can only control what you do.
I focused on setting up better shelter for the coming days. Used branches and leaves to create a more substantial roof over my rocky overhang. Gathered more firewood. Prepared for rain that might come.
Practical tasks. Survival tasks. Things that proved I was competent even if no creature deemed me worthy.
As darkness fell and I crawled into my bedroll for the second night, loneliness hit harder than it had the first day.
No Brooke's snoring from the next bed. No other students' voices in the corridors. No sounds of the Academy at all.
Just me, the fire, and the vast wilderness stretching in every direction.
You can do this. You've survived worse. You survived your whole life being sick. You survived the Maze. You survived the Ember Veil. You can survive seven days alone.
But as I lay there, staring at the stars through my makeshift roof, a small, terrified voice whispered:
What if I survive all seven days and no creature chooses me? What if I'm strong enough to endure but not interesting enough to bond?
I pushed the thought away and focused on breathing.
In for four counts. Hold for four. Out for four.
Tomorrow was day three. The day when, according to Professor Veyra, creatures typically began making more deliberate contact if they were interested.
Tomorrow would tell me if that rustling had meant something or nothing.
Tomorrow I'd know if I was being watched with interest or merely catalogued and dismissed.
I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, my dreams full of shadows and light and the desperate hope that I was worth choosing.
That something out here would look at me—broken, sick, stubborn—and decide I was enough.