The Calm Before the Storm

The days bled into weeks. The weeks stretched into months.

Time, once a suffocating weight on Caelum's shoulders, had become something else entirely—a forge. Every sunrise was a hammer's strike, every night a moment of respite before the next blow. He had lived through training that left his body battered, through lessons that shattered his understanding of the world and rebuilt it from the ground up.

And now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he stood at the edge of the training grounds, knowing that this chapter of his life was coming to a close.

The Second Trial loomed.

For months, the academy had given its candidates ample time to grow, to sharpen their blades, to awaken their dormant strengths. The First Trial had separated the weak from the strong. But the Second Trial?

It would measure something far greater.

Not just strength, but potential.

Caelum had learned that Aetheris Academy did not simply throw its candidates into trials one after the other. There were gaps—deliberate pauses between each stage—to ensure that every participant had the chance to become something more. The true purpose of the academy was not survival; it was ascension.

A warrior who relied on raw talent alone would plateau. A warrior who trained, who suffered, who evolved? They were the ones who would carve their names into history.

And now, the moment of reckoning approached.

Caelum tightened his grip around the practice sword in his hands. He had lost count of how many times he had broken a blade, how many times he had fallen, only to rise again. He was not the same person who had arrived here.

But was it enough?

The training grounds were nearly empty at this hour, save for a few students pushing themselves to the very limit. A group of fighters engaged in controlled sparring, their movements precise, their attacks swift. Some practiced alone, running drills over and over, determined to perfect their form. Others sat in quiet meditation, gathering their strength for what was to come.

Caelum had spent months among them, witnessing their growth alongside his own. Some had risen above their initial weaknesses, unlocking abilities that had once been out of their reach. Others had hit a wall, struggling to break past their limits. And then there were those who had simply vanished—candidates who had failed, who had been forced to walk away before the next trial even began.

The academy made no exceptions. Only those deemed worthy would move forward.

Caelum took a slow breath, absorbing the heavy air that hung over the training grounds. He knew the others felt it too. The anticipation. The tension. The sense that something irreversible was about to begin.

Behind him, a familiar presence approached.

Varian's voice was steady, unreadable. "You've come far."

Caelum exhaled. "Not far enough."

Varian stepped forward, arms crossed as he surveyed the field. "No one ever feels 'far enough.' That's what keeps them moving." He paused. "But I'll tell you this. If the Caelum I first met were to face the Caelum standing before me now? It would not be a fight. It would be a slaughter."

A ghost of a smirk crossed Caelum's lips.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Varian chuckled. "You should." Then his voice grew serious. "The Second Trial is different from the first. The academy gave you time for a reason. There will be no second chances this time. If you hesitate, you will fall. If you are weak, you will be trampled."

Caelum met his gaze. "Then I won't hesitate."

Varian nodded approvingly. "Good. Because from this point forward, there is no such thing as a 'candidate' anymore. From now on, you are warriors. And only warriors will survive what comes next."

The sun had set by the time Caelum returned to his quarters.

His body ached from the day's training, but he ignored the fatigue, his mind too restless to find comfort in sleep. The dormitory was quieter than usual, the weight of the upcoming trial casting a heavy silence over its halls. Some students spoke in hushed tones, discussing strategies, preparing themselves mentally. Others lay awake in their beds, staring at the ceiling, lost in their own thoughts.

Caelum sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the small, flickering candle by his bedside.

He had prepared as much as he could. He had trained harder than he ever had before. But there was still so much he didn't know.

What would the Second Trial entail?

The first had been designed to weed out the weak. The second…

Would it push them beyond their limits? Would it break them?

Or would it forge them into something more?

A strange chill drifted through the room.

Caelum stiffened, his instincts screaming that something was off.

His gaze flickered to the wooden table in the corner of his room. And there, sitting atop the polished surface, was a book that had not been there before.

His heart pounded.

He hadn't heard the door open. Hadn't sensed a presence. And yet, someone—or something—had placed it there.

Slowly, cautiously, Caelum approached. The book was old, bound in worn leather, its cover absent of any title or markings. But as his fingers brushed against it, a single slip of parchment slid free from its pages.

"You'll need this."

The handwriting was precise, deliberate. Unfamiliar.

Caelum swallowed, his mind racing. Who had left this? And more importantly—why?

A faint whisper of a breeze stirred the air behind him. He turned sharply, but the room was empty. Yet… for a brief second, he swore he saw something. A shadow, just at the edge of his vision. Gone in an instant.

Elias.

The name surfaced in his mind unbidden. A presence he had noticed more than once in the academy's halls—watching, listening, never truly interacting. He had heard whispers of a student who shouldn't exist, someone who knew too much but was rarely acknowledged by others. Some dismissed him as a myth, a story told by candidates desperate to explain the strange happenings in Aetheris. Others, those who had seen him, spoke in hushed tones, unwilling to question his presence too loudly.

Now, Caelum had proof that Elias was very, very real.

And for some reason, he had chosen to help.

Caelum looked down at the book once more, then at the flickering candlelight casting long shadows along the walls. The mystery of Elias was not one he could solve tonight.

For now, all he could do was read.

The storm was coming.

And this time, only the strongest would survive.