Viole spent the rest of the day in quiet contemplation, his thoughts racing with anticipation for the trials ahead. The dorm was eerily silent, save for the occasional distant murmur of students passing by. Everyone seemed to be preparing in their own way—some trained outside in the courtyard, others gathered in small groups, exchanging whispered strategies. But Viole preferred the solitude. It was easier to focus when he was alone, away from the distractions and the inevitable conflicts that came with interacting with the others.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes closed as he slowed his breathing. Meditation had always been his refuge, a way to quiet the noise in his head and regain control over the swirling chaos of the personalities. Even now, he could feel them, lurking just beneath the surface. Aamon, with his pride and arrogance, waiting for the right moment to remind Viole of his power. Desmond, ever playful and eager to cause mischief, buzzing with excitement for the trials. And Clark, silent and calculating, his presence like a dark shadow creeping in the back of Viole's mind.
But in this moment, they were still. Viole had learned to push them back, to create a space where he could think clearly. It wasn't perfect—sometimes their influence slipped through in moments of weakness or stress—but for now, he was in control.
His thoughts drifted back to the encounter with the vampires earlier. They had tested him, and he had passed. But this was only the beginning. The academy was filled with students far more powerful than those two, and Viole knew he couldn't afford to underestimate anyone. The trials tomorrow would be his real test, and he needed to be ready for whatever was coming.
As he meditated, Viole's mind began to wander, pulling him into a strange, vivid memory. It was a dream, or perhaps a vision, brought on by the convergence of souls within him. He saw flashes of a battlefield—dark, twisted, and chaotic. The air was thick with the scent of blood and ash, and the sky above was a roiling mass of red clouds. In the distance, he saw a figure standing tall, a crown of thorns atop his head, his eyes glowing with ancient power.
It was Aamon, standing at the center of the battlefield, his cape billowing in the wind. Around him, vampires knelt, their heads bowed in reverence. Aamon's voice echoed in Viole's mind, not as a whisper this time, but as a commanding presence. "This is your future, Viole. Power. Dominion. You have the strength to rule, if only you would embrace it."
Viole shuddered, pulling himself from the vision. It wasn't real, just a trick of his mind—a glimpse of Aamon's past, perhaps, or a fragment of his ambition leaking into Viole's thoughts. But the message was clear. Aamon wanted control, and he saw Viole as the vessel to achieve it.
He opened his eyes, the dim light of the dorm room grounding him back in the present. The personalities would always try to manipulate him, to steer him toward their own desires. But Viole wasn't going to let them. He had his own path, his own goals, and he wouldn't be a puppet to their ambitions.
The following morning came too quickly, and the academy was buzzing with nervous energy. The trials had officially begun. Viole could feel the tension in the air as students gathered in the massive stone arena behind the main building. The arena itself was a brutal reminder of the academy's purpose—its walls were stained with the marks of countless battles, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat and fear.
The students were divided into groups, each one assigned to a different trial. Viole stood among them, scanning the faces around him. Some were focused, determined. Others looked terrified, their confidence wavering under the weight of what was to come. Viole kept his face neutral, not betraying any of the thoughts racing through his mind.
An instructor strode out onto the platform in the center of the arena, their voice booming over the gathered students. "Today marks the beginning of your trials. Each one of you will face challenges designed to push you to your limits—physically, mentally, and spiritually. Only those who prove their worth will continue. The rest…" The instructor's gaze swept over the crowd, and a cold smile tugged at the corner of their lips. "The rest will be expelled. Or worse."
The ground beneath Viole's feet seemed to hum with the weight of those words. Expelled was the least of his concerns. He had heard the stories—students who failed the trials didn't always get to leave the academy alive.
"You will be tested in groups," the instructor continued. "Your survival depends not only on your own strength, but on your ability to work with those around you. Trust, or lack thereof, will determine your fate."
Viole's stomach churned. Working in groups meant relying on others, something he had never been comfortable with. He preferred to handle things on his own—especially now, when so much was at stake.
The groups were called forward, one by one, until finally, Viole's name was called. He stepped forward, joining a small cluster of students—three others, each one exuding an aura of danger. There was a girl with pale skin and dark, stormy eyes, her lips curled into a permanent smirk. A boy, taller than the rest, with glowing yellow eyes and a muscular build that screamed werewolf. And finally, a third figure—smaller, slighter, but with an intensity in his gaze that made Viole wary.
The instructor nodded at their group. "Your trial begins now."
Without warning, the ground beneath them began to shift. The stone floor of the arena cracked and splintered, opening into a jagged chasm that yawned wide beneath their feet. Viole barely had time to react before he and the others were falling, plummeting into the darkness below.
They landed hard on a patch of uneven rock, the air knocked from Viole's lungs as the impact rattled his bones. He gasped, pulling himself to his feet as the dust settled around them. The cavern they had fallen into was dimly lit, the only light coming from the faint, eerie glow of the walls.
The werewolf boy groaned, shaking his head as he stood up. "Great. This is just fantastic."
The girl with the smirk dusted herself off, her eyes gleaming in the low light. "Looks like we're in for a fun time, boys."
Viole ignored them, scanning the cavern. The trial had begun, and already he could feel the danger lurking in the shadows. There were no instructions, no clear path forward—only the knowledge that somewhere in this cavern was their first test. And they would have to survive it together.
He glanced at the others, already calculating. The werewolf would have strength on his side, but his temper could be an issue. The girl was confident, maybe too much so, and Viole couldn't tell if she was bluffing or truly dangerous. The smaller boy hadn't spoken a word, but his silence was unnerving.
As the group began to move forward into the darkness, Viole felt a familiar chill crawl down his spine. The personalities within him stirred, sensing the tension and danger. Clark's voice, low and venomous, whispered in the back of his mind. "They're weak, Viole. Watch them closely. They'll turn on you the moment they sense vulnerability."
Viole pushed the voice down, focusing on the task ahead. There was no time for internal conflict now. They had to get through this, and he wasn't about to let the others drag him down.
The path ahead was narrow, winding through jagged rock formations and deeper into the cavern's depths. The air grew colder with each step, and Viole's senses were on high alert. Every sound, every flicker of movement in the shadows, set his nerves on edge.
And then, without warning, the ground trembled beneath their feet.
The werewolf boy growled, his eyes flashing as he braced himself. "Something's coming."
Viole felt it too—the shift in the air, the subtle but unmistakable vibration of something large moving toward them. He tightened his grip on the sword strapped to his side, his muscles tensing.
The girl smirked, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "About time."
From the darkness ahead, a low, guttural growl echoed through the cavern. Viole's pulse quickened. The trial had truly begun