Oliver lay on his back in the grass. The grass wasn’t green like it should be. It was red, deep red, like blood. The blades were sharp and soft at the same time, brushing against his arms and legs. His body hurt all over. His chest moved up and down, very slowly.He didn’t know how long he had been there. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. He didn’t know what time it was at all. His eyes were open, staring up at the sky. The sky looked wrong. It was broken.There were lines across it, like cracks in glass. Some cracks glowed red. Others were dark purple, like bruises in the sky. And behind those cracks… there were stars. But they didn’t look like normal stars. They blinked, slowly. They looked like eyes watching him.Oliver blinked. Just once. His mouth was dry. His hands were cold.His right hand hurt. His ribs ached when he breathed in. There was blood on his shirt. Not wet. Dry. Crusted. It stuck to the cloth and to his skin. But he was alive. Somehow. He was still here.The wind was sof

The Custodian stood in the middle of the room. It was tall and thin, made of metal and wires. Its eyes were screens, blinking with strange lights. When it moved, it looked like something dead brought back to life. Its joints creaked and groaned like rusted doors. But when it swung its blade arm, the air split with a loud hiss. It was fast. Too fast.Mina did not wait. She gripped her staff tightly and ran forward. Her feet hit the floor hard with each step. She jumped and spun her staff in a blur. The end of it hit the Custodian's shoulder with a loud crunch. Sparks flew. A green circle appeared where she struck. It turned slowly, glowing with old magic. The machine stumbled back, metal grinding against stone."Now!" she shouted.Oliver was already moving. He dropped low and slid across the floor, dirt and dust flying around him. The Custodian's long cable arm whipped overhead. Oliver ducked just in time. He slashed with his dagger. But the blade only scratched the surface of the

The outer ring of the arena was packed. Initiates lined the observation deck, their eyes trained on the center platform. There were no bleachers in this part of the training compound only metal railings and hovering view screens. Formal duels didn’t happen often. Not unless something unusual had happened.And Oliver Wren, barely seven days into his Initiate ranking, had become very unusual.Mina stood beside him at the waiting platform beneath the arena.“You know you can still back out,” she said, adjusting the sheath strapped to his back. “They’ll gossip. But you’ll be alive.”Oliver met her eyes. “She’s testing the sword more than me.”“She’ll kill you if you make a mistake.”“I won’t.”Mina studied him for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she pulled out a small crystalline disc and pressed it to his forearm. A jolt of cold ran through his body.He flinched. “What was that?”“Reflex booster. You get one injection. Use it wisely.”He nodded, rolling his shoulders. Shiveredge humme

Snow drifted through the Citadel’s high windows, quiet as ash. The great hall normally reserved for assemblies and sparring practice had transformed overnight into a coliseum.Stands circled the arena floor. Hundreds of seats. Students, instructors, senior Bladeborn, and the Judges of House. Their cloaks shimmered in colors of their lineage: gold for Solarion, blue for Nethril, red for Emberborne, black for the Oathless.And in the center stood the Initiates forty three strong. Oliver was among them.He wore simple garb: white and gray, the trim of the Citadel. No armor. No enhancements.Only Shiveredge, resting across his back, humming like a heartbeat in deep winter.“Stand ready,” called a voice across the arena.It was Instructor Kaelin, her tone precise and cold as the day.“Today marks the first of three Trials. You stand not only to earn rank but to prove you can wield what the world fears: legacy weapons. You will be observed. Graded. Judged.”She paused. The wind whistled th

Oliver sat alone in the Hall of Echoes, Shiveredge lying across his knees like a sleeping animal. The light from the high windows filtered in pale and golden, illuminating the dust that drifted like lazy snow. His knuckles were raw. His shoulders ached. But it wasn’t the trials that exhausted him. It was the silence.A silence that had started after his victory against Selis. She hadn’t spoken to him since. Not a word.She’d left the arena without a glance, and though her injury wasn’t serious, something had changed. Something deep.He ran a hand across Shiveredge’s flat. It purred like ice across silk.‘You did what you had to,’ he told himself. But even that felt hollow.The door creaked behind him. Footsteps. Mina appeared, wearing a layered gray cloak with the gold pin of an active Initiate.“You’ve been here all morning,” she said. “The instructors are starting to think you’ve frozen solid.”“Just thinking.”“Dangerous habit.”She came closer, studying him. “You don’t look happy