Chapter 5: A Spark Beneath the Surface

Noah stepped out of the maze, his legs unsteady as if the shadows still clung to him. The cool evening air of the academy courtyard did little to calm his racing thoughts. The symbols, the whispers—You'll return, whether you want to or not. They felt etched into his very being. He exhaled shakily and rubbed his temple, trying to shake the memory of his reflection's eerie smirk.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Luke's voice startled him. The blond boy was leaning casually against a stone pillar, tossing an apple in one hand. His grin was easy, but his eyes carried an undertone of concern.

"Something like that," Noah replied, his voice quieter than intended.

Luke studied him for a moment before shrugging. "Well, welcome back to the world of the living. Or, you know, whatever this place counts as."

Noah tried to smile, but it faltered. He glanced back at the dark maw of the maze, its towering walls still and silent now. Yet, he could feel it watching, as though it was waiting for him to step inside again. He shuddered and turned away.

"Come on," Luke said, nudging his shoulder. "You'll want to hear this."

Noah allowed himself to be led across the courtyard, where a crowd of recruits had gathered beneath a raised platform. Mistress Seraphine and Master Lucius stood at the center, their postures a stark contrast. Seraphine's regal stillness commanded attention, while Lucius leaned casually against a railing, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

The murmurs of the recruits stilled as Mistress Seraphine raised a hand. Her gaze swept over the crowd, assessing them with an intensity that made Noah's stomach tighten.

"You have survived the first trial," she began, her voice even and commanding. "But survival alone is not enough. You are here to grow, to prove yourselves worthy of this academy's name. And worthiness… must be earned."

Beside her, Lucius straightened, his smirk growing. "Which brings us to rankings. Because let's be honest, nothing motivates people like a little competition." He gestured to a large crystalline tablet that shimmered into existence above them, its surface displaying an elaborate list of names.

Noah's eyes darted to the list, scanning quickly. His heart sank when he saw his name at rank 23.

"Twenty-three?" he muttered under his breath.

Luke, standing beside him, grinned. "Could be worse. Look, I'm twenty-eight. They obviously value charm over raw talent." He winked, though Noah could tell he wasn't entirely joking.

"Charm doesn't win fights," Noah muttered, his eyes still fixed on the ranking board.

At the very top, one name stood out: Kael Ryden.

The whispers among the recruits grew louder at the sight of the name. Noah had heard it before, though only in passing—a star recruit, top of every test, a natural-born leader. He hadn't expected to be anywhere near Kael in the rankings, but seeing the gap felt like a punch to the gut.

"Looks like the legend lives up to his reputation," Luke said, following Noah's gaze. "Kael Ryden. Bet he's the kind of guy who trains in his sleep."

Noah's jaw tightened. He barely knew Kael, but something about the name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried to focus on his own rank instead. It wasn't the bottom, but it wasn't where he wanted to be.

Mistress Seraphine's voice cut through the murmurs. "Rankings will be reassessed after each trial. If you wish to rise, train harder. If you wish to fall, grow complacent."

Lucius clapped his hands, his grin widening. "And don't forget—rank isn't everything. Sometimes, the ones at the bottom surprise you." He glanced at the crowd, his gaze lingering on Noah for a moment longer than was comfortable. Noah's breath hitched, but Lucius had already turned away.

The dormitory hall buzzed with energy as recruits poured in, some celebrating their ranks, others sulking. Noah felt adrift, caught between frustration and determination. He found his assigned room easily enough—small but functional, with a narrow bed and a desk illuminated by a faintly glowing orb.

Luke popped his head in moments later, already grinning. "Roomie! I knew fate liked me."

Noah raised an eyebrow but couldn't help a small smile. "Lucky me."

Luke flopped onto the other bed, sighing dramatically. "You know, twenty-eight isn't that bad. It's the kind of rank that says, 'I'm cool, but I don't care too much.' Meanwhile, you're in the try-hard zone. Must be exhausting."

Noah rolled his eyes, though Luke's levity did ease some of the tension in his chest. "Try hard, huh? And what's your excuse?"

Luke shrugged. "I'm pacing myself. Can't peak too early. Anyway, let's celebrate. I hear the cafeteria has edible food if you bribe the cooks."

Before Noah could respond, a knock echoed at the door. He opened it to find a young girl—one of the recruits from earlier, her expression tight with frustration.

"You're Noah, right?" she said, her tone clipped.

"Uh, yeah. Can I help you?"

"You're ranked twenty-three. I'm twenty-four. Just thought you should know, I'm coming for your spot."

Noah blinked, taken aback by her bluntness. "Good luck, I guess?"

She didn't wait for a response, turning on her heel and marching away. Noah glanced back at Luke, who was biting back laughter.

"Well, you've got a fan," Luke said, smirking.

Noah shook his head, closing the door. "This place is going to be exhausting."

That night, as the dormitory quieted, Noah lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts swirled with fragments—the maze, the rankings, the reflection's chilling words.

You'll return… whether you want to or not.

The words gnawed at him, heavy with an unspoken truth. He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He hated feeling lost, unsure of who he was or where he belonged. But one thing was certain: he wasn't going to stay at rank twenty-three.

He would rise.

And as his eyes finally closed, he resolved to uncover the truths that the maze, the Tree, and his own fractured memories seemed so desperate to keep hidden.