The Capital rose like a living dream before them, sprawling across the plains with towering spires, glittering rivers, and walls of ancient stone wrapped in banners and ivy. Kael and Rynn reined in their horses at the crest of the last hill, staring in awe at the sheer scale of it.
A hundred villages could have fit within those walls, and still there would have been room for more.
"You ever seen anything like that?" Rynn asked, her voice soft with wonder.
Kael shook his head. "No. It's... bigger than I imagined."
The closer they rode, the busier the road became. Merchants, pilgrims, soldiers, and farmers streamed toward the city gates. Carts laden with goods rattled over the stones, children ran laughing between the wheels, and the air was filled with a thousand different voices and smells — roasted meats, spices, fresh bread, smoke, and sweat.
Guards in gleaming silver armor manned the gates, their swords at their hips and suspicious eyes flickering over the newcomers. But Kael and Rynn had little trouble entering; the sealed parchment letters bearing the Academy's crest were like magic keys, opening all doors.
Inside the Capital, it was like stepping into another world.
Wide avenues stretched in all directions, lined with shops, taverns, and towering houses. Minstrels played lively tunes at street corners. Mages demonstrated minor spells for cheering crowds, while pickpockets wove unseen among the throng.
Rynn grinned as a juggler tossed flaming knives into the air nearby. "If we survive the Academy, we could always join the circus."
Kael laughed. "You first."
They made their way toward the upper districts, where the Academy loomed like a crown above the city — a fortress of marble and glass, with towers that seemed to scrape the very heavens. The nearer they got, the more obvious it became who the other prospective students were: groups of young men and women, some dressed in elaborate cloaks stitched with family sigils, others in simple traveling leathers like Kael and Rynn, their eyes wide and full of purpose.
A giant iron gate, covered in shifting runes, marked the Academy's main entrance.
Hundreds of applicants gathered before it, buzzing with anticipation, fear, and excitement.
An older woman in deep violet robes stood atop a raised platform, her silver hair braided with strands of gold, a staff clutched in one hand. Her voice, when it rang out, needed no magic to command attention.
"Applicants! Welcome to the Capital Academy of Arcane and Martial Arts," she announced. "Today, you stand at the threshold of greatness. But first — you must prove you are worthy to pass through these gates."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"There are three trials awaiting you," she continued. "Trial of Body, Trial of Mind, and Trial of Spirit. Only those who succeed in all three shall be admitted."
A young man near Kael — pale-haired and dressed in velvet — sneered. "I heard these tests are a formality. Everyone passes if they can pay enough."
The woman's staff slammed against the platform with a crack like thunder.
"Those who think to buy their way in will find their coin buys them only failure," she said, eyes like flint. "You may withdraw now with your dignity intact. Or you may proceed — and be judged truly."
No one moved.
Rynn nudged Kael with her elbow. "Guess we're staying."
He smiled grimly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
The first trial began immediately.
They were herded through the gates into a sprawling training ground where the instructors — battle-scarred warriors, robed mages, and grim-faced scholars — waited.
Obstacles stretched across the grounds: towering walls slick with water, pits filled with swinging pendulums, mazes woven with illusory traps. Instructors barked instructions: "Climb! Dodge! Fight!"
Kael's heart pounded. This wasn't a mere race — it was a brutal test of survival.
He tightened his grip on Veyrion's hilt. Time Dilation shimmered at the edges of his senses. He could activate it — give himself an edge — but would it reveal too much too soon?
Beside him, Rynn cracked her knuckles, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Ready, farm boy?"
"Always."
The horn sounded.
Kael sprang forward, vaulting over the first obstacle — a wall of slick stone — with Rynn close behind. They moved like a single unit, reading each other's movements instinctively.
A swinging pendulum nearly caught Rynn, but Kael grabbed her arm and yanked her clear. She flashed him a grin before hurling a knife at a conjured illusion that tried to snare them with ghostly vines.
Around them, chaos reigned.
Some applicants charged ahead recklessly and fell. Others hesitated too long and were overwhelmed by the magical traps designed to exploit fear.
Kael and Rynn stayed calm, methodical. When Kael had to slow time — just briefly — to dodge a sudden, shifting platform, he did so with care, masking the unnatural smoothness of his movements.
When they finally crossed the finish line, breathless and battered but whole, the instructors simply nodded.
"Survivors," one of them said gruffly. "Good."
The second trial — the Trial of Mind — was more insidious.
They were led into a vast stone hall, its ceiling lost in darkness, and seated individually at stone desks.
Before each of them appeared a single object.
Kael's object was a mirror.
"In this trial," a soft voice said from nowhere, "you will face yourself. Solve the puzzle, or be lost within it."
The mirror rippled.
Kael saw himself — but not as he was now. This version of Kael bore the Dragon King's crown, black scales threading across his skin, eyes burning gold.
The reflection smiled — a slow, cruel thing.
Is this what you want? it whispered.
Kael gritted his teeth. "No."
The mirror twisted, showing him Rynn — crumpled at his feet, betrayed. Villages burning behind him. Power... at the cost of everything he loved.
Sweat beaded on Kael's brow. His hands clenched.
The puzzle wasn't a riddle of words — it was a test of will.
He had to reject the path of ruin. Choose differently.
With a surge of determination, Kael raised his hand — and shattered the mirror.
The glass exploded outward, and he stumbled back, heart racing.
When the mist cleared, he stood alone. And then, slowly, the stone doors ahead of him opened.
He had passed.
Rynn joined him a few minutes later, looking shaken but smiling grimly.
"How'd you do?" she asked.
"Broke a mirror. Probably seven years' bad luck."
She snorted. "You and me both."
The third and final trial was the Trial of Spirit — a mystery until the very end.
They were gathered into the Academy's great courtyard, where a figure waited — the Headmaster himself.
He was a tall man, dressed in white and gold, his hair dark as ink and his presence heavy as a storm.
"You have proven your bodies strong and your minds sharp," he said, voice rolling over them like a tide. "But spirit... is harder to judge."
He gestured, and a series of magical illusions appeared around them: a child crying for help, an old enemy begging for mercy, a chest filled with untold riches — and a wounded friend, bleeding out.
"You may only choose one," the Headmaster said. "Choose wisely."
Kael didn't hesitate.
He moved toward the wounded friend — an illusion shaped like Rynn, her hand reaching out for him.
As he touched the illusion, it shimmered and solidified into light.
The other images vanished.
The Headmaster smiled slightly. "Compassion and loyalty over greed and vengeance. A rare choice."
Kael glanced around and saw that not everyone had chosen as he had. Some had gone for the treasure. Others stood frozen between choices.
Rynn appeared at his side, grinning. "Looks like we're still on the same page."
The Headmaster raised his hands.
"Welcome, initiates. From this day forward, you are students of the Academy."
A roar of applause and cheers erupted around them.
Kael let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He turned to Rynn, who beamed at him, flushed with victory and pride.
They had done it.
Together.
But even as they celebrated, Kael felt the faint, unmistakable hum of danger lurking beneath the surface. A whisper of wings. A memory of blood.
The Dragon King's legacy was not finished with him.
Not by a long shot.