Caelum ran with everything he had, his feet slamming into the snowy ground, kicking up cold dust behind him. His breath came in sharp gasps, white clouds rising into the frozen air as he pushed himself harder. The wind tore past his ears, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
It had been eleven years since he was dragged into this cursed place. Eleven long, cold years in the Timeless Zone. From the outside, it looked like paradise—grand palaces, never-ending snowflakes falling like feathers, the skies always bright like morning—but they were all lies. Lies that covered something cruel underneath. This place was no heaven. It was Hell. Just the way the old folks whispered it back in the villages.
And now, tomorrow was the day. The day everything they'd been through would finally lead to something—or to nothing. The entrance exam. Yeah, entrance. After eleven damn years, they were still not full members of the Blackwatchers. All the pain, the blood, the near-deaths... all that was just preparation.
They had started as thirty kids. Just ordinary boys and girls snatched from their lives. Now only twenty-five remained. Five had died. Just like that. A snapped neck, a missing limb, a drop from too high. The instructors called it "accidents." But everyone knew. Everyone knew they weren't meant to all survive.
Today's training was one of the "light ones," if you could even call it that. Caelum's lungs burned as he ran through the snowy woods, the trees stretching tall and black around him. Behind him, sharp growls echoed. Five black wolves—beasts twice the size of normal wolves, with red eyes and claws that could rip through stone—chased him.
The rule was simple. Make it to the safe zone. Don't get caught. If you tripped? You die. If you looked back? You die. If they got to you first? You die. That's it. Simple rule. Cruel rule.
His boots thudded into the frozen ground, the growls behind him getting closer. He didn't dare turn to see how near they were. The trees began to thin out ahead, and he spotted it—the wide break in the land, the abyss. It stretched far, deep, endless. He didn't slow down. His legs moved on their own, faster and faster, until he reached the edge and jumped.
The air rushed around him. He didn't scream. He didn't panic. He didn't even blink. He was used to this. His body moved like a beast's—perfectly trained, like a blade honed for years. As he soared through the air, he didn't look down. He'd done that once, years ago. Learned his lesson. It messed with your mind, seeing nothing but black below you.
His boots hit the ground on the other side, the snow crunching beneath him. The force of his landing sent a soft wave of wind brushing back the snow. He stood up straight, not even bending his knees.
A second later, a loud grunt came from beside him.
"Holy hell! I swear I'm gonna murder those instructors!" Galen's voice came as he stumbled onto the safe side, dropping to one knee. His face was drenched in sweat, his curly hair clinging to his skin. "They threw three of 'em at me! Three black wolves! What happened to one at a time? Rules say one, dammit!"
Caelum just chuckled. He pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into his eye. "You got lucky," he muttered quietly. He wasn't going to tell Galen that he had faced five. No need to make his friend feel worse.
Galen had been his closest friend since that day—eleven years ago—when they'd been thrown from the cage into the snow. Back when they were still kids. Galen had taken a beating for him once, protecting him from one of the mad trainers. Since then, they'd been like brothers.
"Moaning already?" came a sharp voice behind them.
Isoria.
She marched up to them, arms crossed, her white hair tied back in a tight braid. Her eyes, grey like storm clouds, were full of fire. "The entrance exam's tomorrow, and you two are here whining like old men. Pathetic."
Caelum smiled slightly. Isoria was blunt. Harsh, even. But he liked that about her. She didn't waste time with softness. In this place, soft things broke first.
"Nice to see you too," Galen muttered, still breathing hard.
Isoria rolled her eyes. "Come on. We're supposed to meet the others at the Southern field for combat drills."
Galen groaned. "Can't we get like... five minutes to rest? Just five?"
Isoria smirked. "Tell that to the wolves next time."
Caelum gave a small laugh. "Let's go," he said, already walking.
The three of them headed back into the forest path, the sound of the wolves now far behind. Snow fell softly around them, and the cold bit at their skin, but they hardly noticed anymore. After eleven years, cold had become a friend.
As they walked, Caelum looked around at the other trainees spread across the field. Some were sparring with sticks, others meditating with their eyes closed, trying to tap into their inner magic. Everyone was tense. Everyone knew what tomorrow meant.
It wasn't just a test. It was the beginning—or the end.
If they passed the entrance exam, they'd become real trainees of the Blackwatchers. If they failed... they'd be sent back to the human world.
That might sound like a good thing, to outsiders.
But everyone here knew what it truly meant.
They wouldn't survive a week outside.
Not after what they'd done.
Not after what they had become.