As they walked toward the Southern Field, the cold wind biting at their faces, Galen dragged his feet along the snowy ground like a dying man. His boots made a long line in the snow, the sound of his sighs louder than the crunch of their steps.
Caelum looked over his shoulder at him and smirked, "You planning on digging a trench all the way there?"
Galen groaned loudly, throwing his head back. "I'm tired, man. So damn tired. Why are we still doing this? Haven't we trained enough already?"
Isoria stopped walking and turned around sharply, her hands on her hips. "You do know you can always withdraw, right?" she said, arching one brow at him.
Galen blinked like he didn't hear her right. "Withdraw?"
Isoria nodded. "Yeah. You can tap out. Leave. Go back to the human world. No one's stopping you."
Before Caelum or Isoria could say another word, Galen was gone—like wind. He turned around and sprinted back the way they came, faster than they had seen him move all day.
"Wait, he's serious?" Caelum asked, half surprised, half amused.
Isoria just shook her head and started walking again. "Let him go. He'll probably go find somewhere to sleep and pretend he never heard that part again."
Caelum chuckled as he followed beside her, hands in his pockets. The air was sharp, but his body had long grown used to the cold. Eleven years in this place could turn your blood to ice.
After a while, Isoria glanced at him sideways. "What's your stress anyway? You and Galen."
Caelum looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean tomorrow's a huge day," she said. "The entrance exam. The thing we've been breaking bones for, for more than a decade. And yet you look like you don't give a shit, and Galen's probably gone to sleep."
Caelum smiled a little. "We've trained for this for eleven years, Isoria. If we're not ready by now, we never will be. So what's one more day of training supposed to change?"
Isoria gave a small 'harrumph,' tossing her hair behind her shoulder. "Arrogance."
Caelum's smile widened. "It's not arrogance. It's confidence."
"Oh yeah?" she said, eyes narrowing with a teasing smirk. "Then why are you even following me to the field? Shouldn't the 'confident' guy be off somewhere meditating or fighting air?"
Caelum tilted his head. "So you won't get lonely."
Isoria snorted and gave him a playful kick in the leg. "Idiot."
Caelum laughed, the sound light and easy. For a moment, just a moment, the weight of the upcoming exam disappeared between them.
He glanced at her again, eyeing her hair. "You should change your hair back to black, by the way."
"What?" she said, confused.
"The white doesn't suit you," Caelum replied. "You look horrible."
Isoria stopped walking and turned to him, squinting like she didn't hear him right. "Horrible?" she repeated, like it was a strange word from another language.
"Yeah. Horrible," he said, nodding.
She threw her head back and laughed. "Wow. That's a new one. Alright then, Caelum, tell me—just name one person in this entire place who looks better than me?"
Caelum furrowed his brows, scratching his head as he thought. But no one came to mind.
Isoria leaned in smugly. "See? You can't even mention one. I'm number one. Admit it."
He scoffed. "Stop being arrogant and just accept you look horrible with the white hair."
She turned to him with a wicked, playful smile. Her eyes gleamed with that rare spark she only ever showed when she was about to win an argument.
Then she tilted her head and quoted him right back, "It's not arrogance. It's confidence."
Caelum raised both hands in surrender, grinning. "Alright, alright. You win this one."
They kept walking together, the path to the Southern Field stretching out ahead of them, dusted with white snow and flanked by tall pine-like trees. The cold breeze swept between them, but neither seemed to mind. Their steps matched now, quiet and steady.
Isoria kicked a bit of snow toward him with her boot and smirked. "You really think I should change it back to black?"
Caelum shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe not. Just... don't go around saying you're number one. I might start believing it."
She gave a proud nod. "Good. That's the plan."
Their laughter faded into the wind as they reached the training field, empty for now except for a few figures in the distance. Tomorrow was still coming—fast, unrelenting—but for this small slice of time, it didn't matter. Just a girl with white hair and a boy who never smiled unless he was with her, walking side by side in the heart of a place that had broken so many others.
But not them.
Not yet.
---
Caelum woke up with a low groan, still feeling the dull ache in his arms and legs from the training with Isoria last night. She had pushed him hard—harder than usual. Her energy was unmatched for a girl, or anyone really. The girl could fight all day and still not look tired. Caelum had tried to keep up, but even he had limits.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. His bed felt colder than usual. Maybe it was nerves or maybe it was just the stormy wind seeping through the thin walls. Today was the day.
The Entrance Examination.
Eleven years of hell, and it all came down to this.
He didn't waste much time. He got up, bathed in freezing water that nearly made him scream, dressed in his plain training clothes, then stepped outside without a word. His boots crunched into the snow as he walked silently toward the Hall. The skies were dark, still in that strange pre-dawn hour, but the whole zone was awake.
When he got to the Hall, the first thing he noticed was that he was late. The second thing he noticed—he wasn't the only one.
Everyone was there already. All twenty-three of them. Except Galen.
Caelum looked around the grand Hall. The ancient stone walls stretched high above them, dark blue fire torches burning all around. The others were standing in their lines, silent, nervous, some whispering to each other. Isoria was near the center, arms crossed, back straight.
When he approached her, she didn't say anything at first. She just gave him that death stare she was famous for. That stare that could melt iron. He gave her a small smile like it didn't bother him, though deep inside, he felt just a bit guilty. This was an important day, and he had overslept.
Then, just as he was about to say something, the heavy doors creaked open again.
Galen.
He stumbled in like a zombie, hair a mess, face still half-asleep. His eyes were puffy and unfocused. He looked like someone had dragged him out of bed and kicked him all the way to the Hall.
Isoria's mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows raised in disbelief. This bastard actually did it. He slept. He really went home yesterday, knocked out, and now he was waking up... after seventeen straight hours?
She couldn't hold it anymore. She just stepped away from both of them with a face full of disgust, like the two of them had some disease she didn't want to catch. She didn't even say a word, just walked off to the other side of the room shaking her head.
Caelum and Galen exchanged a glance. Neither said anything. They didn't have to. That was just Isoria being Isoria. She was dramatic on a normal day—today, it was probably ten times worse. They let her go.
"Bro... what time is it?" Galen whispered.
Caelum gave him a sideways glance. "Time to not die."
Before Galen could even process that, a loud sound echoed through the Hall—like a heavy wave crashing into a cliff. The massive doors at the front began to open, slowly, creaking and groaning as the stone shifted apart.
Everyone went silent.
Then a man entered.
Tall. Wearing a plain black robe that dragged along the floor behind him. His face was hidden under the large hood, but they didn't need to see his face to feel it.
The power.
It hit them like a storm. A wave of pressure swept through the room, and all of them dropped to their knees—almost like something unseen had forced them down.
All of them... except Caelum.
He stayed on his feet, arms crossed, his face calm, almost bored. He didn't feel anything. No pressure. No fear. Just silence in his bones.
He looked at the man with mild curiosity, even a hint of smugness on his face.
The man paused, his steps halting just for a second as he looked directly at Caelum. For a brief moment, the entire Hall held its breath.
But then, just as quick, the man looked away and kept walking.
He didn't say a word. Just moved past them all like a shadow and made his way to the front of the Hall where a single raised platform stood. He stepped onto it and turned around to face the group.
The silence was loud now.
Caelum slowly let his arms fall to his sides, still standing tall while the others remained bowed. He didn't do it to be proud, it just didn't make sense to him. This was the exam. Not a funeral.
Beside him, Galen was sweating bullets. "Caelum, maybe bow," he whispered urgently. "You tryna die before the thing even starts?"
But Caelum didn't move. His eyes were fixed on the black-robed figure.
The man's presence was like a mountain pressing down on the room. Even the torches dimmed slightly in his presence. The fire flickered like it was being smothered. Nobody knew who he was exactly, but they all felt it.
This man was not ordinary.
He was a Blackwatcher.
And not just any Blackwatcher—he was one of the elders.
They had arrived.