Two months had passed like ripples across still water.
Morning after morning, the six of them drilled beneath Maren's sharp gaze—endurance sprints at dawn, weapon forms at midday, mental puzzles by dusk. Their muscles grew lean and hard, their minds sharper, but something precious still eluded half of them.
---
Caelindra lingered after morning drills, seated on the low stone wall overlooking the training field. The sun glinted off her notebook's brass clasp as she traced idle patterns on its cover.
Beneath her skin, she felt it again—a soft vibration, like humming glass, urging her attention inward. She pressed two fingertips to her wrist, hoping to catch its echo. Nothing but her pulse, steady and familiar.
She closed her eyes. Every exercise, every whispered lesson on Sigil lore, had brought her closer—but her mark had not freed itself.
"I know you're there," she whispered into the breeze. "I just… don't know how to say yes."
---
Rorek stood alone in the sparring yard, axe laid against his shoulder. The afternoon sun cast long shadows of the wooden dummies that had failed to teach him patience.
He drove the blade into the training block with a furious crack—and still felt empty.
He knelt and ran a palm over the wood, half-listening to the satisfying thud of the axe sinking in. His own heartbeat sounded louder than any promise of power.
He flexed his fingers where, he knew, the sigil should one day brand him.
He grunted. "I'll see what iron can do before magic," he muttered, then rose and retied his gauntlet straps with cold determination.
---
Soren found a quiet corner in the evening market—lamplit stalls now shuttered—and sat on a low barrel, unpacking a handful of roasted nuts. He chewed thoughtfully, watching the soft glow of glyph-lamps flicker as merchants banked their fires for the night.
A faint thrum tickled his ribs—barely a sigh, but enough to remind him. He laid a hand over his heart, savored the warmth of the hearth behind his ribs… and shook his head.
"Not tonight," he said to the empty street. "We've got training to finish."
He rose, pockets jingling with unused coins, and headed back to the dorms, each step echoing with quiet resolve.
---
None of them had dared the Sigil Fields yet. The thought of those raw, unpredictable landscapes—where Trials waited in every shadow—was both tempting and terrifying. For now, they clung to Maren's lessons: physical discipline, mental clarity, and the patient turn of each day's ritual.
But beneath the skill and sweat, each knew the true test—their Rite—still awaited them, humming just out of reach. And with every passing dawn, their Sigils whispered: Soon.
Kael was the first to notice Caelindra's distant gaze. They'd been drilling morning stances in the yard when she'd frozen mid‑motion, shoulder drooping as her eyes tracked some invisible point on the horizon. He exchanged a look with Allen, then slipped beside her.
"Everything all right?" Kael asked softly, offering her a steadying hand on the elbow. Cael blinked, then nodded and forced a smile. He didn't press further—knowing she'd speak when she was ready—but the tight line at the corner of her mouth told him all he needed to know.
Meanwhile, Allen had caught Rorek in the weapons pavilion, hammering swings into air dozens of times beyond any warm‑up. Each strike rang hollow, echoing frustration rather than purpose. Allen stepped forward and gently rested a hand on Rorek's shoulder, interrupting the rhythm.
"Take a break," Allen said quietly. "You're not a machine." Rorek paused, blade mid‑arc, and turned. For a moment, the stoic shield around him cracked—just enough for Allen to see the strain behind his eyes—before Rorek nodded once and set the weapon aside.
Kael and Allen came together beside Soren, who sat on the edge of the fountain, shoulders hunched as he traced patterns in the water. Kael rested an arm on Soren's back. "You doing okay?" he asked. Soren glanced up, surprised, then managed a small grin. "Fine," he said, though his fingers still trembled on the stone.
Allen knelt and offered the leftover dried fruit from his pack. "Keep your strength," he said gently. Soren accepted it with a grateful nod.
The four of them stood in companionable silence, each wrapped in their own struggles—three friends weighed by silent hopes, and two brothers‑in‑arms determined to carry part of the burden. Kael squeezed Allen's shoulder. Neither spoke of Sigils or failures. For now, presence was enough.
The low hum of the Tower's inner chambers settled into silence as a quiet chime echoed through the corridor—three sharp notes that meant one thing: summons.
Kael glanced at Allen, who was already standing. The others—some still rubbing sleep from their eyes or stretching off the morning stiffness—began filing toward the central assembly hall. The mood was tense but not grim. Anticipation hung in the air like static.
The doors to the hall creaked open with practiced weight, revealing Maren, standing tall near the center platform, arms behind her back. Her uniform was pristine, her expression unreadable. Behind her, a large crystalline map floated midair, casting subtle shadows of shifting terrain across the walls.
"Step forward, all of you," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly across the chamber.
They obeyed, forming a loose semicircle in front of her. Kael noticed a few unfamiliar faces mixed in—likely members of the other groups. Allen stood quietly beside him, eyes fixed on the floating map.
Maren waited until the last of them settled.
"This is your first official assignment," she began, tone clipped and firm. "You've trained, fought, struggled—and now it's time to step beyond preparation. Today, you enter the Quiet Lands."
The map shifted, zooming in on a wide stretch of barren hills and faded forest. Thin trails marked their intended paths.
"Your objective is reconnaissance and exploration. The Quiet Lands lie just beyond the Tower's inner reach—untouched, unmapped, and unusually silent. We don't know what's there, and that's the point. You will go, observe, document, and return."
She paced slowly in front of them, gaze passing over each face.
"You will not go alone. There are two other groups assigned to this mission. You'll rendezvous with them at the Gates before departure. From there, each group will take a different vector into the terrain. Communication and coordination are expected, but each team is responsible for their own sector."
She stopped walking.
"Now listen closely. No veterans will accompany you."
A few people shifted uncomfortably.
"That doesn't mean you're not being watched. Veterans will be observing—silently, invisibly. They want to see how you lead. How you adapt. How you survive."
She let the words settle, gaze narrowing slightly.
"This is not just a mission. It's an unspoken evaluation. How you conduct yourselves out there will determine how far the Tower allows you to go."
Maren tapped the crystal map once, and each of their names appeared alongside small glowing markers—group assignments.
"You leave in one hour. Gather your gear. Prepare mentally. You will not be briefed again."
Then, just before dismissing them, her tone softened—barely.
"And remember: It's not strength that defines a climber—it's awareness. Of the Tower. Of others. And of yourselves."
She stepped back. "Dismissed."
As the hall emptied, the six members of Group 12 remained clustered near the shadowed edge of the room, just beneath the flickering crystal map. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable—more thoughtful than tense.
Elowen broke it first. "They're sending us into unknown land, and they aren't even pretending to supervise." Her voice was soft but precise, like a blade slipping between words. "What are we really being tested on?"
Rorek, arms folded, let out a slow exhale through his nose. "We're the bait." His gaze was steady, unreadable. "They want to see who panics. Who improvises."
Kael looked between them. "Or who breaks."
Allen's voice came low, focused. "The Quiet Lands… I've read some of the old reports. Places like that mess with your senses. Not just silence—emptiness. And if veterans are watching in secret, it's not because they expect a smooth run."
Soren leaned against the wall, arms behind his head, a half-smile on his lips. "Sounds like fun. A bunch of strangers wandering into an eerie wasteland with invisible babysitters and no safety net." He shrugged. "Can't wait."
Caelindra had been quiet until now, sitting cross-legged on a stone ledge, eyes fixed on the map. Her voice, when it came, was dreamy but deliberate. "Stillness hides echoes. Not all of them are yours. If we listen too long, we might hear something we weren't meant to."
Everyone turned toward her briefly. Even Soren's smirk faded a bit.
Kael cleared his throat. "So… we watch each other. Stay sharp. Keep moving."
Elowen nodded. "Agreed. We're not competing. Not yet. But someone will be keeping score."
Allen gave Kael a glance. "You ready for this?"
Kael hesitated for only a moment. "Yeah. I think so. You?"
Allen smiled, thin and unreadable. "Ask me after we make it back."
The corridor to the Gates stretched long and half-lit, the walls etched with moving sigils that shimmered faintly as the group passed. The hum of the Tower was ever-present—like a breath, low and patient.
Their footsteps echoed softly in the silence, until Kael broke it.
"So," he said, voice pitched casual but tight beneath. "First official mission. Anyone else feel like this is less about the land and more about... us?"
From ahead, Rorek gave a chuckle without turning. "Kael, everything in the Tower is about us. That's the point. You ever seen a staircase here that goes somewhere without testing your soul?"
Elowen, walking beside Kael, smiled faintly. "Maybe they're seeing if we can work as a group before sending us somewhere real. Low stakes—at least that's what they want us to think."
Kael raised a brow. "You believe that?"
Elowen didn't answer immediately. "No."
Near the rear, Soren walked in near silence. But he wasn't unengaged—his eyes moved constantly, watching the walls, the sigils, the group. Occasionally, his gaze would flick to Allen, who walked with his arms behind his back, head slightly downcast.
"You're awfully quiet," Soren finally said, voice low enough only Allen would hear.
Allen didn't look at him. "I prefer thinking before we walk into the unknown."
Soren nodded, then after a moment: "You always think like someone's about to lie to you."
Allen finally met his eyes. "That's because they usually do."
A few paces ahead, Caelindra floated just slightly apart from the others—half-listening, half elsewhere. Her fingers danced idly through the air, trailing phantom threads of light that vanished before they could form anything. She looked over at Elowen with a kind of distant warmth.
"They're all tightly wound," Caelindra said softly. "Like instruments tuned to a song they haven't heard yet."
Elowen gave her a side-glance. "And what song do you think we're about to play?"
Caelindra's eyes glimmered. "One of unraveling, I hope. That's when the real beauty starts."
Rorek overheard that and barked a laugh. "Gods, you're a poetic one."
"I try," Caelindra said, entirely unbothered.
They walked on.
The corridor darkened slightly as they passed beneath a curved arch of unknown origin. The lights above flickered once, and Kael paused, looking up.
"Anyone else notice it's gotten colder?"
Elowen nodded. "Closer we get to the Gates, the more the Tower shifts."
"It's watching," Allen murmured, mostly to himself.
No one disagreed.
They kept walking.
Not quite to the Gates yet—but close enough to feel the pull.
As Group 12 approaches the towering gates, the weight of the mission ahead feels palpable. The air is heavy with anticipation, yet an unsettling silence surrounds them. They walk in a loose formation, keeping their eyes on the towering structure before them, feeling both the thrill of their first mission and the weight of what's to come.
Kael's mind is racing—he can't help but wonder what awaits beyond those gates. Allen, always observant, notices the tension in his friend's posture and places a reassuring hand on his shoulder, offering a small, unspoken comfort. The rest of the group is similarly quiet, lost in their own thoughts as they near the entrance.
Suddenly, an unexpected voice rings out, clear and commanding: "Duck!" Without hesitation, they all instinctively obey, crouching down low in sync.
Just as they lower themselves, the air above them stirs, and a massive figure soars overhead, crashing hard against the gate with a sickening thud. A cloud of dust and debris erupts, but within moments, the figure stirs. With a dramatic flourish, a voice calls out, "Well, that was a bit much, don't you think?"
From the rubble, a massive figure emerges with remarkable ease, as if they've been through this kind of chaos a thousand times. Despite the brutal way they were kicked into the wall, there's no sign of injury. Instead, there's a wide grin stretching across their face, eyes glinting with excitement and mischief.
"I'm still standing! How do you like that?" the figure booms, their deep voice mixing with a playful tone that's somehow both expectant and excited. They rise to their full height, their imposing figure immediately catching the attention of everyone in the group.
The figure dusts themselves off with exaggerated flair, taking in the stunned silence before them. Their presence is magnetic, drawing the eyes of every member of Group 12. They pause, looking at them with a grin that suggests they know the confusion and surprise they've caused.
After a beat, the figure speaks again, with a tone full of playful challenge: "I'm not going to bite... Unless, of course, you give me a reason to. But hey, don't just stand there staring at me. I'm waiting for you to say something—anything!"
The group stands there, flabbergasted, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected and rather flamboyant entrance.
Elowen raised an eyebrow, looking around at the energetic and diverse group before her. "You don't sound like you're from here," she said, her tone curious. "Where are you all from?"
V flashed his signature grin, the kind that seemed too large for his face. "Ah, now we're talking! We're not from around here, that's for sure!"
He threw a casual arm around Luck, who stood silently, and then pointed to G. "These two are from South Africa, like me. Sean Pitso," he said with a flourish, "known as 'Luck,' and Kegomoditswe—but we just call him 'G.'"
Luck, with his sharp, piercing eyes, shot a look at V, but he didn't say anything. G, on the other hand, lifted his hand, gesturing for quiet, his usually calm demeanor betraying a flicker of annoyance.
"No need to announce our full names, V," G muttered.
Before V could respond, both Luck and G simultaneously delivered a swift, practiced kick to V's back, sending him crashing against the nearby stone wall. The force of it left an echoing thud as V slumped back to his feet with a groan.
"Quiet down, V," Luck said, his voice carrying an eerie calm.
"Yeah," G added, his voice much lighter despite the action. "Some things are better left unsaid."
V straightened himself up, brushing off dust, but his grin remained. "Alright, alright. Too much enthusiasm, I guess. You know how it is—I'm just excited."
Next, Syrin stepped forward, her voice soft and smooth, as though she had expected the interruption. "I come from a place known for its wisdom and serenity," she said. "Mali, far to the northwest. My name, Syrin Orell, is tied to its ancient rivers—where the flow of water keeps secrets no one can truly decipher."
Bran, arms crossed and wearing his usual cocky grin, added with a drawl, "I'm from Nigeria, specifically Lagos. You can thank my surname for that. Bran Ogun—'Ogun' being the name of the god of iron and war. I'm here to make sure no one forgets my roots. And my knack for making things boom."
Niva, standing a little behind Syrin, shuffled her feet awkwardly but finally spoke up. "I'm from Kenya," she said, pulling at her sleeves nervously. "Tamsen is a name of old Kenyan origin. It's... related to the art of creating. Creating tools, creating... inventions."
She paused and glanced at V, adding, "I'm more comfortable with building things, not being in the spotlight."
V chuckled, rubbing his back where he had just been kicked. "We've got some real-world travelers here. So now you know, we're not from here—Earth is our home. But that's enough about us."
Syrin, Bran, and Niva gave their small smiles, each one proud of their heritage.
As V was about to open his mouth for another exaggerated remark, the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted him. From the corner of the gates, Risan emerged with his group, eyes glinting with curiosity as he surveyed the scene. His group was a mix of personalities—some stoic, others visibly amused by the scene unfolding.
Risan's gaze swept over the groups already gathered, then rested on V, who was grinning like a child who had just gotten away with something.
Risan's lips curved upward into a knowing smile. "What happened here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the scene.
Before V could unleash his usual flamboyant explanation, Luck's hand shot out to stop him, a single finger held up to his lips as a quiet warning.
V blinked, momentarily stifled by the unspoken command, but gave Luck an exaggerated shrug as if to say you win this time.
Kael, who had been standing quietly at the side, stepped forward with a calm expression. "It's not much," he began, his voice steady and level. "V got a little too... excited about introductions. And, well, Luck and G decided to remind him of the value of silence."
Risan chuckled lightly, glancing back at V with a bemused smirk. "Seems like you've made quite an impression already."
V, rubbing the back of his neck, shot Kael a mock glare. "I was simply providing some excitement around here. But no worries, I'll be keeping it down... for now."
Kael gave a small nod, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Good call."
Risan, looking at the two groups, nodded in acknowledgment. "Seems like a lively bunch. Just make sure to save some of that energy for the mission." His tone was warm but serious, as though he was reminding everyone of the larger purpose at hand.
V, looking like he was about to respond with something grandiose, was quickly silenced by a raised hand from Luck again.
With a grin, Risan finally introduced his group, and they began mingling with the others. But the lighthearted tension between them and the sudden quiet from V left a sense of anticipation hanging in the air, as everyone's thoughts began to turn to the task ahead.
As the groups began to settle into their respective spaces, laughter and low conversations filling the air, a sharp whistle cut through the chatter. The veteran group members, dressed in their standard gear and looking as composed as ever, began to approach the gates. Maren led the way, her stern yet warm expression signaling the start of their departure. She was flanked by two veterans, one of whom was Luck's own veteran supervisor.
The veterans moved in unison, the weight of their experience reflected in their every step. They were no strangers to the challenges ahead and were ready to ensure the newcomers were adequately prepared.
Maren stopped just a few feet away, scanning the gathered groups. "Alright, listen up," she called out, her voice commanding yet calm. "You're all heading out on your first mission now. This is a reconnaissance and exploration task. Be observant, be cautious, and most importantly—do not let your guard down. The quiet lands aren't as peaceful as they appear."
She paused, allowing the gravity of her words to settle. "You'll meet with other groups at designated points, but your safety is your own responsibility. You may encounter hostile creatures, environmental challenges, or even other climbers. Be smart, stay together, and adapt quickly. If anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to fall back and report."
The other veterans stood slightly behind her, silent but attentive.
Luck's veteran supervisor, a tall, intimidating figure with a no-nonsense demeanor, stepped forward. He was older, with a rough but respectful appearance, and his eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and amusement as he focused on Luck—and more specifically, on V.
"Sean," he said, using Luck's full name, his voice deep and firm. "I'm trusting you to keep that... loud one in check. We don't need any more chaos from him. It's too much paperwork to clean up if something happens. Keep him quiet, keep him focused. He's already pushing his luck, and I don't have the patience for it."
Luck gave a silent nod, his gaze already on V, who was standing there with an innocent grin as if nothing had just happened. V, however, had the decency to at least tone it down a little.
"Understood," Luck replied, his voice low but sharp.
V shot a playful wink at his veteran supervisor, unbothered by the reprimand. "Don't worry! I'll be on my best behavior," he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, his grin widening even more.
The veteran gave V a look that could cut glass. "You better be," he muttered under his breath before stepping back.
With that, Maren turned her attention to the group. "Time to move out. Go meet with your respective teams. This is your first mission—make it count."
She nodded firmly to the veterans behind her, signaling them to move to the side and give the groups space to head out. The veterans' roles were clear—to observe and make sure the newcomers didn't screw up too badly, but to also stay out of the way unless needed.
V, not missing a beat, slapped his hands together as if getting ready for a grand performance. "Time to shine," he boomed. "Let's get this mission started!"
Luck sighed, rolling his eyes but offering a small, resigned smile. "V," he muttered, "try to be quiet for just one mission. Please."
The rest of the group chuckled softly, already getting used to the dynamic that seemed to define their group. But there was a shared sense of readiness in their hearts. They weren't about to let anything stop them from completing the mission ahead.