The scene snapped back to Illira and the cloaked man. The crowd, still reeling from the princess's biting insult, watched with bated breath.
The man, unfazed, chuckled softly, raising his hand to pat the top of his hood.
The gesture seemed almost casual, as if he found her words amusing rather than insulting.
"I am here for the same reason you are here" he murmured through a soft laugh, his voice carrying a note of genuine intrigue. "I'm taking the test, little princess."
Illira's eyebrows shot up in disbelief at his words.
The very idea seemed absurd to her. "You?" she echoed, her tone dripping with skepticism.
"Taking the test?" She paused for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing as she scrutinized him, searching for any hint of deception. "I highly doubt it."
The man, still smiling from beneath the shadow of his hood, took a step closer, his presence looming over her.
"Ohhh, and why can't I?" he teased, his voice playful.
He leaned forward, bringing his face under the light, the sun casting harsh shadows that accentuated his features.
Their eyes met once more, and this time, Illira had to tilt her head slightly to maintain the connection.
Her eyes twitched ever so slightly in annoyance at the proximity.
The audacity of this man—this strange person—daring to close the distance between them as if they were friends.
She retorted sharply, her voice cold "Not too close, ant. Know your place."
The man's smile widened, his teeth flashing briefly under the hood.
"Oh, but this commoner is just dazzled by your fiery words. Can't I?" His tone was mockingly sweet, a clear provocation, as if he reveled in pushing her buttons.
"Humph!" Illira snorted in irritation, turning her head away from him.
The interaction, though brief, had stirred something in the crowd—an unsettling mix of curiosity, and a begrudging respect for the man who dared to stand so boldly before the princess.
Caius, watching from a distance, clenched his jaw.
"That insolent fool, he is not following the plan at all" he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he watched the cloaked figure with growing suspicion.
Just as Illira was about to deliver another sharp retort, a voice rang out from the front, resonating through the entire area like a powerful hum from a giant bell.
The murmurs, whispers, and even Illira's biting words were abruptly silenced as all eyes instinctively turned towards the source.
The scene seemed to shift as if by magic, the air around them growing still as the collective gaze of the crowd was drawn to the figure now standing at the forefront.
At first, he was merely a shadow, a silhouette against the bright sky, but as he moved closer, his form became clear.
His cloak billowed in the wind, made of a fabric that shimmered like emerald scales under the sunlight.
It was clasped at the neck with a golden brooch, carved into the shape of a dragon's head, its eyes gleaming.
The man's face, partially hidden by the hood, was striking—sharp features with high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and lips that were set in a firm line.
His eyes were the color of molten gold, his skin was pale, almost luminescent, giving him an ethereal quality.
The most striking aspect of his appearance, however, was his hair—a cascade of silver that tumbled down his back in waves. It seemed almost alive, fluttering gracefully as if stirred by a breeze only he could feel. Beneath the cloak, he wore a fitted tunic of deep green with intricate golden embroidery that traced symbols along the hem and sleeves. His trousers were of the same hue, tucked into tall black boots that gleamed with polish.
A pair of gloves, fingerless and made of the finest leather, covered his hands, allowing his long, elegant fingers to move freely.
"Attention."
The word hung in the air like a spell, and as it did, something extraordinary began to happen.
The man's body slowly lifted off the ground, rising into the sky.
Then, as he floated above the crowd, wings of pure light unfurled from his back, each feather gleaming with a soft, ethereal glow.
He hovered there for a moment, suspended in the air like a descending angel, his golden eyes surveying the assembly below with a calm gaze.
This was no ordinary man, this was Varian Ashfall, the head teacher directly under the dean of the academy.
His name was known throughout the empire, whispered with respect and awe.
Varian was a figure of legend, a master of magic and martial arts, known for his wisdom as much as for his formidable power.
His voice, when it came again, was gentle.
"Welcome," he intoned, his voice carrying across the vast field as clearly as if he were speaking directly into each person's ear.
"Today marks the beginning of your trials. The path ahead will be arduous, but those who prove themselves will be rewarded beyond measure."
His wings flared briefly before folding behind him as he began to descend slowly to the ground, the feathers of light retreating until they disappeared entirely, leaving only the man behind.
He landed with the grace of a feather, his boots touching the earth with barely a sound.
The crowd, still enraptured by his presence, watched in silent.
Varian's eyes swept over the gathered aspirants once more before he spoke again, this time addressing them with a tone that was both encouraging and stern.
"You stand here today as one among many. But by the end of these trials, only the most determined, the most capable, will remain. Remember this, the academy does not seek the strongest, but those with the will to endure, the heart to persevere."
With those words, Varian turned his gaze towards the academy's imposing inner gate that leads further within, a silent command passing through the air.
The gates, massive, began to creak open, revealing the path that lay beyond.
As the gate creaked open, a lush forest revealed itself to the assembled crowd.
Dense, towering trees stretched into the sky, their canopies interwoven to form a thick, verdant ceiling.
The underbrush was alive with movement, shadows flitting between the trunks, giving the forest an almost sentient feel.
What lay beyond the first row of trees was obscured, but the ominous atmosphere suggested that the unknown awaited them deeper within.
Varian's gaze swept across the sea of faces, taking in the mix of emotions that played out on them—shock, fear, anticipation.
The sheer size and foreboding nature of the forest seemed to rattle many of the participants, their expressions betraying their anxiety about the trial ahead.
When his eyes reached the section where Illira stood, they momentarily lingered. Her presence was hard to ignore.
For a brief moment, Varian's thoughts flickered . *The child is here... Another tantrum, perhaps,* he mused silently.
Despite the occasional murmurs of her potential, he saw her more as a willful spirit—untamed and untested by the true rigors of the academy.
But as his gaze started to move on, something unusual caught his attention—something that made him pause.
A figure, cloaked in dark robes, stood close to Illira, almost merging with the shadows that clung to the edges of the forest.
At first glance, he seemed like just another participant, perhaps one attempting to blend in and remain unnoticed.
Yet, there was something about this figure that tugged at Varian's instincts.
Then their eyes met.
The exchange was brief, but in that fleeting moment, Varian felt a presence that was both unsettling and intriguing.
The figure's gaze was intense, unblinking, and it held a depth that was rarely seen in someone so young.
*Oh?* Varian's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a glimmer of interest breaking through his usually stoic demeanor.
*Such eyes...* Varian thought to himself, his curiosity piqued. *He reeks of the dead, the divine path of the taboo... How rare to find such a presence here.*
-
The moment passed as quickly as it had come, and Varian's gaze shifted back to the rest of the crowd.
"That man..." Illira muttered, her voice barely audible as she watched the figure gracefully descending from the sky.
Her normally poised demeanor faltered for a moment, her fists clenched at her sides, and she swallowed hard, her throat constricting as if holding back.
The man beside her, sensing the tension, tilted his head curiously, his voice laced with playful intrigue. "You know that man?" His tone was light, almost teasing, but beneath it lay a genuine curiosity.
Illira nodded, though her gaze dropped to the ground, her eyes obscured by the shadows of her long lashes. "Yes," she admitted quietly. "I knew him well..."
The man leaned in slightly, his posture remaining carefree, yet his eyes sharpened with interest.
"A bit too well?" he inquired, his question dripping with a blend of amusement and probing intent as he tried to catch her eye.
Illira's annoyance flickered to the surface, a brief flash of irritation at his persistence, but strangely, she didn't recoil from his proximity.
There was something about his presence that, while irritating, didn't feel entirely unwelcome.
"Don't bother..." she grunted, her voice low and dismissive as she turned away from him.
Without another word, she took a decisive step forward, her dress sweeping the ground behind her as she moved, leaving him in her wake.
He watched her go, a smile playing on his lips as he murmured to himself, "Ohh, stingy to tell..." His tone was amused, but his eyes remained fixed on her retreating figure, a mixture of curiosity and something more lingering in his gaze.
As the gates slowly creaked open, revealing the shadowy expanse of the forest beyond.
Varian's voice echoed across the clearing. "The rules are simple," he declared, his tone firm and unyielding.
"Survive for five days. Those who remain will earn the right to enter the academy as formal students." His words lingered in the air for only a moment before he concluded with a final, decisive statement. "And the trial begins now."
The atmosphere shifted instantly, tension snapping like a taut bowstring released.
A wave of exhilaration rippled through the gathered participants, their anticipation exploding into action.
The once still crowd surged forward in a chaotic, eager rush. The sheer scale of it was a spectacle in itself—hundreds of thousands of individuals, each driven by their own ambitions, fears, and desires, converging on the forest gate.
Some contestants, flew forward on strange, arcane devices.
Sleek metallic boards hummed with energy as they skimmed just above the ground, leaving trails of light in their wake.
Others dashed ahead with lightning speed, their bodies blurring as they invoked spells or relied on supernatural agility.
Then there were those who summoned creatures to their aid.
Beasts of all kinds—massive, scaled serpents, winged lions, and other fantastical entities—materialized in flashes of light and shadow.
They roared and howled, their mighty forms barely contained by the narrow passage as they raced toward the forest. Riders clung to these beasts with practiced ease.
Participants soared on wings of fire, rode atop summoned winds, or simply leapt into the air with such force that the ground beneath cracked.
Illira, positioned slightly behind the main throng, cast a faint, lingering glance back at the man.
Her voice was low, barely audible amid the cacophony, yet the words were sharp.
"Don't die," she said, her tone tinged with something between a command and a reluctant concern.
And then, with a sharp crack, she launched herself skyward.
A column of fiery red erupted beneath her feet, propelling her upward with a force that left the ground scorched and trembling.
Her body seemed to glow, wrapped in a swirling aura of fire, her hair lengthening into a flowing curtain of crimson flame.
She streaked through the sky like a comet, her presence alone attracting awe as she ascended above the throng.
The man watched her departure with a wry smile, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her words.
"this is harder than I thought" he muttered under his breath, the amusement clear in his tone.
And then, with a single step, he vanished from sight.
There was no dramatic display, no burst of energy—just an eerie, swift disappearance that left the air where he had stood cold and undisturbed, as though he had been nothing more than a passing shadow.
The forest, now teeming with life, swallowed the competitors one by one, each disappearing into the unknown depths of the trial.
The ground shook under the combined force of hundreds of determined beings, and the sky was ablaze with the light of magic.
The trial had begun, and with it, the hopes and dreams of thousands hung in the balance, poised on the edge of triumph or disaster.