Kael left Hollowmere before the sun rose.
He traveled alone, following the instructions carved into the back of the slate disk: "Verdant Hollow. Come alone." There were no directions, no escort, no map—only the name, whispered like a secret, carved like a threat.
The road was broken—just like everything else in this world. Cracked stone gave way to weed-choked trails, and those gave way to shallow ravines and winding forest paths. He passed a wrecked caravan burned down to its axles, and a scattering of bones half-buried in the mud.
Kael said nothing. Just moved forward.
By the time the forest broke and the hills opened wide, he was starving. His legs ached. His satchel was nearly empty.
Then he saw them.
Two men in dull gray armor stood beside a wooden post. It marked the entrance to a narrow pass—the only visible path into the mountains beyond. On the post hung a sigil carved in dark iron: a leaf crossed by a serpent's fang.
Verdant Hollow.
Kael approached slowly.
The guards turned toward him.
One was squat and broad, eyes narrowed. The other was tall and younger, face half-covered by a cloth mask.
"Stop there," the tall one said.
Kael lifted the disk.
They didn't take it.
Instead, the shorter one stepped forward and snatched it from his hand, turning it over in his fingers.
"Cracked," he said. "Could be fake."
Kael frowned. "It was given to me."
The man's lip curled. "You and every other street rat who finds a scrap and thinks it makes them chosen."
Before Kael could answer, footsteps echoed behind him.
Three figures emerged from the trail.
All boys. One of them Kael recognized—the well-fed one who'd stood apart from the others during the Broken Stair gathering. His name, Kael didn't know. But the way he looked at Kael was familiar: like something to be stepped over.
"Well," the boy said, smirking, "looks like someone survived after all."
The guards turned.
"We've already cleared them," the tall one said. "They're expected."
The smirking boy's eyes landed on the disk in the short guard's hand.
"Wait," he said. "That one was supposed to fail. I saw him help someone. Wasted time."
Kael didn't respond.
The boy stepped forward, voice colder. "That disk belongs to a real candidate. Not him."
The guard looked between them. "Then prove it."
The punch came fast.
Kael barely ducked in time. The boy's fist grazed his ear, then followed with a kick meant to sweep his legs.
Kael backed up, drawing his rusted bone-knife. He didn't know how to fight properly, but he'd survived Hollowmere. He'd fought worse than this.
The boy lunged again.
Kael sidestepped, letting the blade drag across the boy's sleeve—not enough to wound, but enough to make him back off.
The other two boys circled, but didn't move in.
The guards did nothing.
This was the test.
Kael could've run.
But something inside him had shifted during that mist-filled trial. He didn't want to back down anymore.
He wanted to earn this.
He dropped low, rolled beneath the next strike, and came up swinging. His knife grazed the boy's side—not deep, but enough to draw blood.
The boy froze.
Not from pain.
But from the sound behind him.
A slow clap.
From the shadows beside the pass, a figure stepped forward.
He wore black robes trimmed with silver thread, and his hair was streaked with white, though his face was unlined. He walked with a slight limp, supported by a carved cane topped with a jade serpent.
But his eyes—
Kael had never seen eyes like that.
Cold. Calculating. Alive.
"You draw blood before you ask questions," the man said, glancing at the other boy. "Not very useful in a healer."
Then he turned to Kael.
"And you… you don't run, even when the odds aren't in your favor. Interesting."
Kael didn't speak.
The man stepped closer, looking him up and down.
"Your knife is dull. Your hands are steady. And your disk—cracked, but intact."
He took the disk from the guard's hand and flipped it once.
"Do you know what Verdant Hollow is?"
Kael shook his head.
The man smiled faintly. "Good. Means you haven't been poisoned by expectation."
He handed back the disk.
Then leaned in close.
"If you want to be strong, go to the main gate and join the outer disciples. But if you want to understand… if you want to make the world need you—come with me."
Kael hesitated.
"Who are you?"
The man's smile didn't change.
"Someone who remembers what it means to starve."
Then he turned and walked toward a smaller path, barely visible beneath the undergrowth.
Kael looked once at the guards, once at the three boys still staring at him—
—and followed.