She made a strangled noise but obeyed.

Atrius faced Soren again. "This is the important part. At dawn, they'll test three things: your discipline, your temperament, and whether you can be bent."

Soren's voice was flat. "I won't bend."

Atrius's eyes sharpened. "Good. But don't show defiance unless they demand it. Feldren respects quiet steel more than loud fire."

Mira muttered, "I hate their entire House."

Atrius ignored her.

He continued, "They will provoke you. Subtle insults. Small commands. A mispronunciation of your name, maybe. A comment about your origin. Anything to see if you react."

Valenna whispered coolly,

Let them test. You are not theirs to shape.

Soren nodded once.

Atrius stepped forward and clasped his shoulder.

"Coren," he said softly, "whatever they offer you—power, recognition, status—remember something."

Soren waited.

"You are Academy first."

Valenna flared inside him at that, a ripple of sharp disagreement, but she didn't speak. She let him choose.

Soren simply answered, "I know where I stand."

Atrius's grip tightened once, then released.

Mira exhaled shakily. "Dawn is in four hours. Can we at least pretend to get some sleep?"

Atrius shook his head. "He sleeps now. You don't."

Mira sputtered. "WHY—"

"Because you'll wake him," Atrius cut in. "On time. No room for chance."

Mira groaned loudly. "I hate everything about this plan."

Atrius opened the door. "Good. That means it will work."

Soren followed Mira out into the corridor. She kept glancing at him like he might vanish if she blinked.

At the door to the novices' quarters, Mira stopped him.

Her voice was quiet.

"Coren."

He turned.

She swallowed once. "No matter what they say in that chamber… none of us will believe anything about your past unless you say it. You're one of us. You get that, right?"

Soren didn't speak immediately.

Valenna whispered, soft,

She means it.

He nodded once. "I know."

Mira let out a breath of relief she'd been holding too long.

Then she pointed at him with a trembling finger. "Don't die."

"I won't."

"Promise."

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

"Coren—"

He stepped inside, cutting her off gently.

The door shut behind him.

Valenna curled warm and cold around his pulse.

Sleep, she murmured.

Dawn will come quickly. And then we see what they truly want from you.

Soren lay down.

Sleep took him in moments.

Dawn did not wait.

Dawn arrived like a blade drawn in silence.

Mira shook him awake before the sun fully crested the horizon, eyes red, hair a mess, clearly having not slept at all.

"Coren," she whispered urgently. "It's time."

Soren sat up immediately.

Valenna was already awake within him — cold, coiled, sharp.

Good. Do not keep them waiting. Let them see discipline in every breath.

Mira hovered near the door, wringing her hands like she might tear her fingers off. "Atrius said to meet him outside the east courtyard. He's already there."

Soren stood, fastened his uniform, tied his blade across his back. Mira paced during all of it.

"Coren," she said, voice anxious but steady, "whatever they say — whatever they do — remember who you are."

Soren paused.

She corrected herself quickly, quietly.

"I mean… remember who you choose to be."

He nodded once.

Then he stepped into the hallway.

Atrius stood waiting beneath the stone archway, arms folded, face carved with tension.

When he saw Soren, he pushed off the wall. "Good. You look awake."

"I am."

Atrius searched his face. "Any hesitation?"

Soren shook his head.

Valenna whispered with dark satisfaction.

Of course not.

Atrius inclined his head. "Then go. They're expecting punctuality."

Mira added, "And don't let them hypnotize you with their creepy monotone Feldren voices!"

Atrius closed his eyes as if begging the gods for patience.

Soren walked toward the northern terrace.

Each step echoed — not loud, but deliberate. Students milling in early-morning corridors looked up as he passed, as though sensing something shifting, something pulling the academy's gravity toward one point.

When he reached the terrace stairway, the air had changed.

Cold.

Ordered.

Heavy.

Feldren aura was like standing inside a silent marching line. The world felt narrower. Cleaner. Stripped into essentials.

Valenna pressed closer.

Do not yield. This House worships obedience. Show them only iron.

Soren stepped onto the terrace.

A line of Feldren students stood perfectly still along the stone railing — their posture identical, their gazes forward. They didn't look at him.

They were waiting.

At the center stood one figure.

Aren Feldren.

Tall, straight-backed, hands clasped behind him, eyes pale and precise like he'd been carved from frost.

The moment Soren stepped fully onto the terrace, Aren's gaze cut to him.

The silence tightened.

Then Aren spoke—

"Coren Vale."

Not his real name. Not his truth.

Just the mask.

Soren approached until they stood a few paces apart.

Aren assessed him without blinking. Not with arrogance — but with deliberate calculation, the way a commander evaluates a weapon before approving it for war.

"You arrived on time," Aren said. "Good. Punctuality is the first measure."

Soren didn't respond.

A flicker of approval—barely visible—passed through Aren's eyes.

"Your display yesterday was… impressive."

A pause.

"And troubling."

Soren kept still.

Aren stepped slightly closer, enough for tension to crackle between them like static.

"Your aura was controlled only at the surface," Aren said. "Beneath it, you carry aggression you do not show. Discipline masking volatility. Dangerous."

Valenna whispered like a blade drawn slow.

He sees only the edges. Not the core.

Soren answered simply, "I manage it."

Aren tilted his head the slightest degree. "We will determine that."

He gestured with two fingers.

A Feldren student stepped forward, holding a sealed case.

Aren didn't take it.

He kept his eyes on Soren.

"This is an assessment. Not a duel. Not a challenge. You will not attack me."

A pause.

"And I will not harm you."

Soren didn't react outwardly.

Valenna murmured,

He lies. They always lie through omission.

Aren continued, voice cold and exact. "Feldren does not test strength. We test control."

He nodded to the student holding the case.

The student opened it.

Inside lay a small crystal sphere—clear, faintly glowing, pulsing with restrained energy.

Aren said, "You will hold this."

Soren reached out—

"Not now," Aren said sharply. "Listen."

Soren paused.

Aren added, "This sphere amplifies instability. If your discipline falters, it will shatter. If it shatters, the terrace will feel it. The Houses will feel it. The Academy will know exactly what you are."

Mira, watching secretly from the stairwell, put both hands over her mouth in silent horror.

Soren didn't look her way.

Aren's final instruction was soft.

"Take it."

Soren lifted the sphere from the case.

Cold flooded his arm—different from Valenna's cold. Chaotic. Pulsing. Probing.

Valenna hissed,

This is a trap meant to expose you.

Aren watched every twitch of Soren's fingers.

"Hold it steady."

Soren's aura tightened, refined to razor-thin control. The sphere vibrated, seeking cracks. It wanted something to slip.

But nothing slipped.

Not a tremor. Not a flicker.

Aren waited.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

The sphere stopped pulsing.

It stilled.

The terrace grew quiet in a way that suggested every Feldren student felt the shift but would never show it.

Aren stepped forward.

Slowly.

Precisely.

His eyes met Soren's without blinking.

"…Interesting," Aren said. "Very."

He extended a hand.

Soren placed the sphere into it.

Aren turned it, examining the stillness within.

Then he looked back up.

"You have control."

A pause.

"And you know how to hide."

Soren didn't answer.

Aren studied him for another long moment, then spoke the last thing any Academy student expected to hear:

"Coren Vale…"

A breath.

"…Feldren wishes to extend you an offer."

Valenna went still inside him.

Mira nearly fell over in the stairwell.

Soren waited.

Aren finished —

"You may become one of us."

The entire terrace remained silent.

The air barely moved.

Valenna whispered like cracking ice:

Do. Not. Fold.

And Soren exhaled once, slow, steady, eyes flat and unwavering.

His answer came quiet, controlled, and entirely his own.

"…No."

Aren blinked.

Just once.

Very slowly.

The terrace seemed to tighten around the word—like reality itself wasn't used to denial in Feldren territory.

Aren straightened, hands behind his back again.

"I see."

For the first time, something colder than frost passed through his gaze.

"Then we will watch you carefully, Coren Vale."

Soren held his stare.

"I expect nothing less."

Aren stepped back.

The Feldren line pivoted as one, turning away from him.

Dismissal.

Acknowledgment.

Warning.

All at once.

As Soren walked off the terrace, Mira sprinted toward him, whisper-shouting, "WHAT WAS THAT—WHAT DID THEY—Coren, what did you DO?"

Atrius appeared from the archway, eyes sharp and searching.

Soren answered both of them with the same level tone.

"They offered. I refused."

Mira nearly screamed. "WHY?!"

Atrius stared at Soren a long moment… and then—exhaled.

Not in anger.

In relief.

Valenna curled around Soren's pulse, satisfied.

Good. Let them want what they cannot have.

Atrius finally spoke.

"Coren… you just became the most interesting problem in the Academy."

Soren didn't disagree.

He simply looked toward the rising sun.

"Let them watch."

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