Chapter 7
Aiden’s POV
It was another early morning run, the kind I forced myself into every day.
If I stayed still too long, the whispers grew louder.
The air was crisp, sharp in my lungs. I welcomed the cold.
It kept me awake. Focused. My boots struck the dirt trail in a steady rhythm as the path wound through thinning trees. But her voice wouldn’t leave my head.
No. I’m not quitting just because you think I’ll die. If I do, then so be it. I’ll earn my place here, even if it kills me. Because it’s all I have left.
The words replayed like an echo I couldn’t shut out.
Stupid. Reckless. And yet, the fire in her eyes when she said it hadn’t been a bluff.
She’d meant every word. That realization unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
Most cadets I broke eventually folded. Fear did the work for me.
Pain finished the rest. However, Ruin kept pushing back.
Kept fighting me... Why the hell did she not just leave?
She still could. And honestly, I’d prefer it that way.
Not because she would be safer. Not because I gave a damn about her injuries.
Because she was annoying. She stood there as if she’d established some kind of point, chin lifted, shoulders squared, as though defiance alone could carry her through.
I saw the fear beneath it, the doubt she tried so hard to hide.
She didn’t believe in herself nearly as much as she pretended to.
But Ruin was too damn stubborn to quit. Too desperate to prove me wrong.
That was what rendered her dangerous. And stupid.
I almost laughed at the thought. She could say the words, wear the confidence, cling to alchemy and books and belief, but none of that would save her here.
Only strength did. Only will. And Ruin lacked both.
Suddenly the shadows stirred, breaking me from my thoughts.
They whispered at the edges of my mind, weaving fragments I could never quite understand.
I ignored them, like always, pushing forward until the prickle hit me.
That crawling, unnatural sense of eyes on the back of my neck.
I slowed, breath clouding in the dawn air, and turned. The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
The morning sun broke in golden shards through the branches, but the shadows between the trunks felt deeper, heavier, like something alive crouched within them.
My pulse quickened. “Show me,” I murmured, sending the shadows outward, letting them thread between bark and stone, seeping into every crevice the light couldn’t touch.
They slithered through the undergrowth, searching, searching, nothing. They recoiled as if the forest had spat them out, leaving me alone again. The silence pressed in, and just as quickly as the feeling came, it vanished.
“Aid, you, okay?” Jasmine’s voice cut through, pulling me back. I glanced at her jogging toward me, sweat glistening across her brow. For a second, I almost told her what I felt—that something had been there, but the words stuck.
“Yeah,” I replied instead, picking up the pace beside her. “It’s nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. Because I knew the difference between shadows whispering and shadows watching. And whatever had been in those woods…it did not belong to me.
Later that day, I stood at the top of the Trifecta, arms crossed, observing.
We were a week out from the Fourfold Rite.
By now, I could tell who would make it and who wouldn’t.
Some of my unit were still choking on the second tier.
A few scraped past the third. It didn’t matter.
They would not last long-term. I was already preparing myself to carve their names into stone.
Ryan tore through the shifting maze with that cocky grin of his, practically daring the course to trip him.
Gia wasn’t far behind: efficient, precise, trained.
She had the bloodline for this; the kind of discipline you only got when seven older brothers drilled it into you from birth.
Jackson hauled himself over the ledges with brute strength.
Luna’s sharp eyes caught every shift in terrain before it happened.
They’d survive. Then there was her. Ruin.
I watched her emerge from the maze, legs pumping as she leapt across the moving platforms, more precise than before.
She scaled the third tier, face tight with effort, breath ragged.
Her shoulders stiffened, muscles screaming at her to stop.
She didn’t. Then came the fourth. She hauled herself up, dodged the first boulder, and ducked into the alcove.
Exhaustion was etched all over her: the dark circles beneath her eyes, the way her jaw clenched like she could grit herself past the pain.
She hesitated. One breath too many. She charged and slipped.
My chest locked as her body tipped backward into the open air.
The net caught her hard, limbs jerking against the ropes.
It was at that moment I realized I’d been holding my breath.
When the last cadet stumbled through, I met them at the bottom.
“Go get cleaned up,” I stated flatly. They dispersed, murmuring. I grabbed Ruin by the arm before she could slip away. “What the hell are you really doing here?” I snapped.
Her lips curved with sarcasm, as if this was all some kind of joke. It made my anger flare hotter. “Here on the field,” she commented lightly, “or at the school?”
“This isn’t funny.” My grip tightened. “You didn’t make it again. Your strategy’s failing, and the Trifecta is a week away. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Aiden,” she shot back, chest heaving. “I do. And I’m trying my best.”
“Trying your best?” I scoffed, releasing her and stepping away.
“This is your fucking best? Slipping off the fourth tier?” The words came sharp, but I wanted them to land.
“If you don’t figure it out by Rite day, you die.
And honestly? Maybe that’s for the best since you can’t even manage an incline. ” That’s when she snapped.
“You think I want this?” Her voice rang out loud, raw, echoing across the field.
“You think this was my dream?” Her eyes burned.
“I was accepted. Accepted, Aiden into the Verdant Sanctum of Sylvara. Do you even understand what that means?” Her tone cracked, but she didn’t stop.
“I was supposed to wear green robes. Supposed to heal people and save lives. Not break bones and wait to die.”
Her breath hitched. “But my father took that from me. Forced me here, because being a healer apparently wasn’t enough.
” She shoved me in the chest. “I wake up every morning knowing I might die here,” she went on, eyes shining.
“And you know what I do, anyway? I tell myself I’ll survive.
Because it’s all I can do. Do you get that?
It’s all I have left.” I dragged a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. Reining myself in.
“I didn’t know your father made you come here.”
She laughed, bitter and harsh. “Yeah. No shit. Maybe you would’ve if you’d asked. Instead, you act like I chose this.” She crossed her arms, shoulders drawn tight. She wasn’t wrong. But I wasn’t about to give her that satisfaction.
“It doesn’t matter whether you wanted this or not,” I said, my voice lower now, less sharp.
“You are here. And if you don’t get past that fourth tier, you’re dead.
A name carved into stone.” She stared at me, eyes glossy, arms wrapped around herself like armor.
Something twisted hard in my chest. I hated that.
“You don’t get it,” she murmured.
My jaw flexed. “I don’t get it?” The words came out harsher than I had meant. “I’ve survived these trials. Growing up, I went through worse.” I paused before continuing, forcing the words through clenched teeth. “You’re small. Smaller than most first-years. And yeah, you’re weak.”
“Wow,” she said flatly. “Thanks.”
“Let me finish.” She sighed, letting me go on.
“You may be all of that,” I replied, meeting her gaze.
“But I’ve never seen another cadet this stubborn.
Or this reckless.” A pause. “And you’re smart, Ruin.
So, use that fucking head of yours and get up the tier.
” She stared at me, genuinely startled. “Don’t look so shocked,” I added, running a hand through my hair.
“I’m only saying this because my father actually cares about you. ”
“Sure,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. I turned away.
“I still hate you,” I muttered. “Just don’t prove me right, Ruin.
” Then I walked off. Part of me didn’t really care whether Rynlee made it or not.
Or at least, that’s what I told myself. Still, she was smarter than this.
If she’d ever had anything going for her growing up, it was that damn head of hers.
Charging forward without thinking wasn’t her strength.
It never had been. If she wanted to survive, she needed to stop relying on brute effort and start finding a solution.
Not that it mattered to me. The part of me that did care, I shoved that thought down hard.
Buried it where it belonged. I had done that a long time ago.
I’d grown up with her, sure, but that didn’t mean anything now.
And if she died… I exhaled sharply. My father would make it signify something. He always had. During our childhood, if I hurt her, even by accident, I was the one who paid for it. That wasn't concern. That was consequence. And I wasn’t about to let either of them dictate how I did my job.