The academy woke buzzing.
It wasn't loud at first. It was a vibration under the skin of the campus, a shared awareness humming through corridors and courtyards. By the time Freya stepped out of the Verdant dormitory, the energy had crested into open excitement.
Banners hung from the towers in the colors of the four houses. Students clustered in knots across the plaza, voices bright with speculation. The Convergence Trial had arrived.
Freya's stomach twisted.
She had barely slept. Not from nightmares this time, but anticipation. Today the teams would be announced. Today the academy would decide who represented each house.
Sera jogged up beside her, breathless. "They're posting the lists in the central hall."
Freya's pulse quickened. They joined the stream of students converging on the building. The air inside crackled with tension. A crowd pressed around a series of boards mounted along the wall.
Names gleamed in fresh ink.
Verdant students surged forward. Freya hung back for half a heartbeat, fear rooting her in place. Then she forced herself into motion.
Her gaze scanned the list.
Sera Hine
Korin Ash
Leth Marr
Freya Valemont
Her breath caught.
"I made it," she whispered.
Sera whooped and threw an arm around her shoulders. "You made it!"
Warmth flared in Freya's chest, sharp and bright. For a moment, the noise of the hall faded. She had earned this.
Then she felt it.
A shift in the air beside her. Korin and Leth stood a few steps away, their expressions guarded as they looked her over. Their eyes flicked to Inky, perched silently on her shoulder.
Korin's mouth tightened.
"She's the one with the quiet contract," he murmured, not quite softly enough.
Leth frowned. "Prefects must see something we don't."
Freya's hands curled at her sides. The words stung, though she had expected them. Doubt clung to her like a shadow.
Sera bristled. "Hey! She's good," she snapped. "You've seen her spar."
"I've seen her dodge," Korin replied. "This isn't sparring. This is Convergence."
Freya met his gaze.
"I won't slow you down," she said evenly.
Silence stretched between them. Korin searched her face, as if weighing the promise. Finally, he gave a curt nod.
"See that you don't."
A bell tolled through the hall, deep and resonant. Conversations died instantly.
"The arena," Sera breathed.
They moved as one with the rest of the academy, pouring into the grand stadium carved into the heart of the campus. Tiered seating rose in sweeping arcs around a vast central field. The air thrummed with anticipation.
Prefects stood at the edges of the arena, their presence a steadying anchor amid the chaos. Lysara's gaze swept the Verdant team as they assembled near their banner. When it settled on Freya, it held for a fraction longer than the others.
A silent acknowledgment.
The head instructor stepped onto a raised platform.
"Welcome," her voice rang out, amplified by subtle magic. "To the Convergence Trial."
Cheers erupted, a wave of sound that shook the air.
"The first stage," she continued, "is the Gauntlet. Teams will navigate a dynamic battlefield populated by simulated threats. Your objective is simple: reach the central beacon and secure it."
The field shifted.
Stone pillars rose from the ground in a grinding chorus. Illusory creatures flickered into existence, their forms coalescing into snarling shapes. The beacon pulsed at the arena's heart, a column of light stabbing skyward.
"Teams," the instructor commanded. "Prepare."
Freya's heart hammered. She glanced at Inky.
He sat as he always did. Silent. Unmoving.
Korin rolled his shoulders. His contract manifested in a blaze of copper light, a broad-shouldered entity wreathed in heat. Leth's companion shimmered into view, sleek and sharp as a blade. Sera's vine-creature unfurled with a hiss of green energy.
All eyes flicked to Freya.
Inky did not manifest.
A ripple of unease passed through the team. Korin's jaw tightened.
"Stay close," he said curtly. "We move as a unit."
The starting signal sounded.
Chaos erupted.
Creatures lunged from between the pillars. Korin and Leth met them head-on, contracts flashing in controlled bursts of power. Sera's vines snared and redirected, carving a path forward.
Freya ran.
She read the battlefield in fragments. The rhythm of the creatures' attacks. The openings in their formation. She darted through gaps her teammates created, calling warnings as threats converged.
"Left!" she shouted.
Korin pivoted just in time to block a flanking strike. His eyes flicked to her in brief surprise.
They pushed deeper into the gauntlet. The beacon loomed closer, its light pulsing in time with Freya's heartbeat. A cluster of creatures surged from the shadows, cutting off their advance.
For a split second, hesitation rippled through the team.
Freya moved.
She sprinted forward, drawing the creatures' attention. They converged on her in a snarling wave. Fear spiked, sharp and electric.
Don't freeze.
She slid between snapping jaws and slashing claws, her movements a blur of instinct and training. The creatures followed, their formation unraveling.
"Now!" she shouted.
Korin and Leth slammed into the exposed flank. Sera's vines lashed out, binding limbs and dragging bodies aside. The path to the beacon opened.
Freya dove through the gap. Her fingers closed around the column of light.
The arena froze.
A chime rang out, clear and triumphant. The Verdant banner flared above the field.
Cheers crashed over her like surf.
Her lungs burned. Her limbs trembled. But she was standing at the center of the arena, beacon secured in her grasp.
She turned.
Her teammates stared at her.
Korin's expression had shifted from doubt to something like grudging respect. Sera beamed. Leth let out a breathless laugh.
"Well done," Lysara's voice carried from the edge of the field.
The words settled into Freya's bones.
Inky sat a few paces away, his gaze steady.
As the arena reset for the next stage, Freya felt the weight of the crowd's attention. The whispers had changed timbre. Curiosity tinged with admiration.
She met Korin's eyes.
He inclined his head, a silent acknowledgment.
"You didn't slow us down," he said.
Freya's lips curved into a small, fierce smile.
The Convergence Trial had only just begun. And already, she was proving that silence did not mean weakness.
Above them, the banners snapped in the wind, and the academy roared its approval as the competition surged onward.
Victory made the air taste sweet.
The second stage of the Convergence Trial unfolded across a fractured landscape of floating platforms suspended over a shimmering void. Teams leapt from stone to stone, racing to assemble a sequence of sigils scattered across the arena. Coordination mattered more than strength. One misstep meant a fall and instant elimination.
Verdant moved like a single organism.
Sera anchored their path with living vines, weaving bridges between unstable platforms. Leth scouted ahead, his contract slicing through illusory barriers. Korin held the rear, absorbing the brunt of the arena's shifting hazards.
Freya threaded through them, calling timing and angles. Her voice cut cleanly through the chaos.
"Three steps, then jump!"
"Left platform's fading!"
They trusted her.
The realization hit mid-stride. Korin adjusted his landing on her warning without hesitation. Sera pivoted her vines at a shouted cue. Doubt had burned away in the crucible of the first stage. In its place stood something fragile and powerful.
Confidence.
They reached the final sigil in a synchronized rush. Freya slammed it into place. Light surged outward in a cascading wave.
The Verdant banner ignited above the arena.
The roar of the crowd washed over them. Two stages complete. Undefeated. First place within reach.
Freya's chest heaved with exhilaration. She laughed, breathless and disbelieving. Sera grabbed her hand and squeezed.
"We're doing it," she said.
Korin's grin was fierce. "One more."
The third stage rose from the arena floor with a grinding rumble.
Walls of dark stone formed a labyrinth, twisting into a maze that swallowed the center of the field. At its heart pulsed a single crystal core, radiating unstable light.
"The final challenge," the head instructor announced. "The Crucible Maze. Teams must navigate shifting corridors while defending the core from internal threats. The team holding the core when time expires claims victory."
The maze sealed with a thunderous echo.
Verdant crossed the threshold together.
Inside, the air felt wrong. Thick. Heavy. The walls pulsed faintly, as if alive. Shadows stretched in unnatural directions.
Freya's skin prickled.
They advanced cautiously. The maze shifted around them, corridors rearranging with low, grinding moans. Illusory enemies flickered into existence, lunging from blind corners.
They fought as they had trained. Clean. Efficient. United.
The crystal core came into view, suspended in a circular chamber at the maze's center. Its light bathed the stone in a pale glow.
"We hold here," Korin said. "Defensive formation."
They spread out instinctively. Sera's vines reinforced chokepoints. Leth's contract shimmered at the perimeter. Korin stood at the forefront, a wall of controlled power.
Freya positioned herself near the core, eyes scanning the entrances. Her pulse beat a steady rhythm in her ears.
You've got this.
The first wave hit.
Creatures poured into the chamber, their forms warped and jagged. Verdant met them head-on. Steel and light collided in a storm of motion.
Freya moved between her teammates, plugging gaps, calling threats. The minutes blurred into a relentless cycle of attack and defense.
Then the maze shifted.
The walls screamed.
The sound tore through the chamber, high and metallic. The light from the core flared blindingly bright. For a heartbeat, the world dissolved into white.
And in that white—
Her home.
The broken door. The smell of blood. Her mother falling.
Freya's breath vanished.
The chamber snapped back into focus, but the nightmare clung to her vision like a second skin. The creatures rushing the core wore familiar faces. Kellan's glowing eyes burned through the haze.
Move.
Her body refused.
Sound distorted. The clash of combat dulled to a distant roar. Her hands trembled at her sides. The crystal's light pulsed in time with her racing heart.
She was eight years old again. Frozen in the doorway. Watching the world collapse.
"Freya!"
Sera's voice cut through the fog, sharp with urgency. A creature slipped past the defensive line, claws reaching for the core.
For her.
Freya tried to step forward.
Nothing happened.
Panic surged, a tidal wave that drowned thought. Her chest constricted. Air scraped uselessly against locked lungs. The chamber tilted, spinning into chaos.
Korin lunged to intercept, leaving his post exposed. Another creature slammed into the gap. The formation buckled.
"Fall back!" Leth shouted.
Too late.
The crystal shattered under a barrage of blows. Light exploded outward in a violent bloom.
The arena froze.
Silence crashed down.
The Verdant banner flickered, then dimmed. Across the stadium, another house's colors blazed in victory.
Freya stood at the center of the chamber, unmoving. The echoes of the nightmare receded slowly, leaving her stranded in the wreckage of the moment.
They had lost.
The maze dissolved. The arena returned. Sound rushed back in a deafening wave. Cheers erupted for the victors. A hollow roar filled Freya's ears.
Her teammates stared at her.
Sera's expression was stricken. Korin's jaw was clenched so tightly it trembled. Leth looked away first.
Inky sat at the edge of the ring.
Watching.
He had not moved. Had not even lifted a paw.
The weight of it pressed down on her chest until breathing felt impossible.
They left the arena in stunned silence. The crowd's energy washed over them, a tide of celebration that did not belong to Verdant.
Whispers followed in their wake.
"She froze."
"Right at the end."
"Her contract didn't even help."
Each word landed like a stone.
In the tunnel beneath the stands, Korin rounded on her.
"What happened?" he demanded.
Freya opened her mouth. No words came. The memory of the chamber still clung to her, sticky and suffocating.
"I—I couldn't—"
"You couldn't move," he finished bitterly. "We were winning."
Sera stepped between them. "Korin—"
"He's right," Freya whispered.
The admission tasted like ash.
Silence stretched. Korin looked at her for a long moment, anger and disappointment warring in his eyes. Finally, he turned away.
"We had it," he muttered.
They dispersed without another word.
Freya walked back to the dormitory alone. Each step felt heavy, her limbs filled with lead. Students she passed glanced at her and then quickly away. The whispers followed, softer but no less sharp.
In her room, the door clicked shut behind her with a final, hollow sound.
She sank onto the bed.
Inky jumped onto the desk, his gaze fixed on her. The same steady watchfulness he had worn through every moment of her training. Through her victory. Through her failure.
Rage flared, hot and sudden.
"You did nothing," she said.
Her voice shook.
"I needed you! But you just—watched."
The words echoed in the small room. Inky did not flinch. His silence stretched, vast and impenetrable.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She scrubbed them away with the heel of her hand, anger tangling with shame.
"They hate me," she whispered. "They should."
The image of the shattered core replayed behind her eyes. The exact moment everything slipped through her fingers.
She had promised herself she would never freeze again.
And she had.
The weight of that failure settled into her bones. Outside, the academy hummed with celebration. Inside, Freya sat in the quiet aftermath, her breath hitching in her throat.
Inky's eyes glinted in the dim light.
He watched her break.
And for the first time since arriving at the academy, Freya felt utterly alone.