The Thirteen Forgotten

The coliseum had fallen silent again, the echo of Caelum's words still vibrating in the cracked stone. The Crown of the First Dominion shimmered faintly in his grasp, its once-lost radiance dimmed by time, yet potent. Elias, Selene, and Aerin stood near the dais, their expressions solemn, reverent, and wary all at once.

No one spoke.

Caelum's breath came slow and steady. He didn't place the crown on his head. Not yet. It remained cradled in his palms, humming with restrained power, a fragment of a deeper, more terrible whole. Beneath its glow, he could feel the weight of something still sealed—a truth not yet ripe for awakening.

He turned to his companions. "This is only the beginning."

Elias stepped closer, his gaze sharp as ever. "How many more?"

Caelum looked up to the shattered sky, where starlight bled through the fractures like tears. His voice was low, but clear. "Thirteen. Thirteen graveyards, scattered across the world. Each a part of me that was buried—intentionally."

Selene's brow furrowed. "You left them behind?"

"No," Caelum replied. "They were taken. Hidden. Locked behind places like this. Each one holds a shard of my memory, my legacy. And perhaps… my sin."

The wind howled through the arena, carrying with it a whisper so faint it could have been imagined: a name without shape, a voice without breath.

Aerin stepped forward. "So what now? We can't visit all thirteen in the middle of the second trial."

Caelum nodded. "We return. For now."

The coliseum trembled beneath their feet as the staircase behind them groaned and began to recede. The portal that had brought them here shimmered back to life, the runes along its edge flaring like the heartbeat of a dormant giant. But something had changed.

Where once the portal was silent, it now pulsed with a melodic hum—a resonance attuned to Caelum's presence.

He turned to take one last look at the vault, now empty, save for the faint afterglow of his former self. "Seal it."

Elias raised a hand, weaving shadow and time into a knot of unbreakable weave. The portal flickered, acknowledged the command, and then began to close. As it did, Caelum felt something distant within him tug—not in pain, but in recognition. A part of him was sealed away again. But this time, he held the key.

They stepped through.

The Trial Grounds had shifted once more.

The wasteland that had swallowed them was gone, replaced by a sun-drenched plateau on the edge of the storm-touched plains. The wind was calm. The clouds distant. And for the first time since entering the Second Trial, Caelum felt the presence of the outside world.

Other candidates.

They emerged in bursts, blinking through their own exits, wounded, exhausted, triumphant. Some had seen horrors. Others had passed quiet, reflective trials. But none had witnessed what Caelum had.

The heralds of Aetheris awaited them.

Orpheon, Headmaster of the Academy, stood at the edge of a marble dais, his cloak drifting in the warm air. Beside him, figures of authority—Mentors, Judges, and Heirs—watched the returning candidates with critical, hungry eyes.

Elias tensed at Caelum's side. "We're being watched."

"We always were," Caelum murmured.

Selene raised her head with pride. "Then let them see."

As the group approached the dais, Orpheon stepped forward.

"Trial Candidates. The Second Ordeal is complete. Those who stand here now have proven themselves beyond the measure of most."

His eyes scanned the crowd. Then, they settled on Caelum.

For the first time, Orpheon's gaze lingered.

He did not smile.

He did not scowl.

But recognition flickered.

A whisper, old as the foundation stones of the Academy, passed between the gathered Masters.

Selene noticed it too. Her voice barely audible, she said, "They know."

Caelum kept his expression still.

Orpheon raised a hand. "You will be granted three days of respite. Then begins the Ascension Arc—a study, a confrontation, a revelation. You will no longer be students of survival, but candidates of consequence."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Caelum said nothing.

Aerin gave him a sidelong glance. "Are we safe here?"

Caelum's answer came after a long pause. "Only as long as we remain underestimated."

He looked to the Academy on the horizon—towers of impossible height, banners snapping in the wind, secrets hidden behind sigils and stone. Thirteen graveyards waited. Twelve still untouched. And one crown carried in silence.

He would learn who had betrayed him.

He would learn why.

But for now, he would return.

And he would wait.