The arena fell silent after Commander Eira's final words.
"…Phase One will now begin."
The sound lingered in the air like a blade suspended mid-strike.
No one breathed.
No one dared.
Every student—first-year and second-year—stood on the same vast expanse of pale, undisturbed sand. The gates had closed behind them minutes before. The rules had already been carved into the air with Eira's voice. There was nothing left but the waiting.
Serene felt the shift first.
A faint tremor under the soles of her boots.
Barely there—like a pulse buried beneath the ground.
Rowen looked sharply down. Lira's fingers tightened around Serene's sleeve. Taren stepped back instinctively. Kael muttered a curse under his breath.
Alden said quietly, "Here it comes."
Then the arena answered.
A deep groan rolled through the sand, heavy and ancient, as if something enormous were waking from centuries of sleep. The ground vibrated harder—enough to shake dust loose from the stone walls high above.
Taren whispered, "Oh, we're dead."
Serene's voice cut through sharply:
"Spread your feet—lower your center."
A second later, the sand erupted.
Columns of stone burst upward in violent, unpredictable thrusts. Some rock pillars shot straight up. Some twisted. Some cracked at the base and tilted sideways like falling towers.
A second-year screamed as a rising column narrowly missed crushing him.
A first-year dove aside as another pillar split the ground open beneath her.
Instinct took over.
Everyone began to run—but not in one direction.
The sand lurched again, buckling like a heaving ocean. Students were thrown off balance. A second-year tumbled face-first. Another landed on her side with a sharp cry.
Serene didn't run blindly. She crouched low, feeling the tremors in her legs, watching how the pillars formed.
"Three-second rhythm," she said under her breath.
"Left, right, center… repeat."
Rowen heard her.
"You see a pattern?"
"Yes. Follow me."
She moved—not fast, not recklessly, but with precision.
A pillar shot up beside her. Serene slipped through the gap it left behind.
Another rose ahead—she waited one heartbeat until it stopped rising, then sprinted across its flat top before it began to tilt.
Alden was close behind, matching her timing perfectly.
Lira followed in quick, shaky bursts, eyes wide but determined.
Taren stumbled but Kael grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him after them.
Rowen moved like he was born for this—fluid, calculating, always two steps ahead of collapse.
Behind them, chaos consumed the second-years.
One tried to outrun the pattern and got slammed by falling debris.
Another leapt too late and was swallowed by a sinkhole that opened beneath his feet.
One girl climbed a pillar that suddenly tilted, hurling her down like a catapult.
Their arrogance turned into panic quickly.
Serene didn't look back.
She couldn't.
The ground ahead trembled differently—sharper, shorter pulses.
"Stop!" Serene shouted.
Alden froze mid-step.
Lira skidded beside him.
Taren nearly ran into Kael.
Rowen stopped exactly where she did.
A large patch of sand ahead began to swirl, rotating slowly like a whirlpool.
"A collapsible pit," Serene said. "It triggers with weight."
"How do you know?" Lira whispered.
"It smells different."
They stared at her.
Serene didn't explain.
She didn't need to.
Years of negotiating in dangerous border territories.
Years of learning how to sense instability—political, emotional, physical.
She pointed left. "Around. Fast."
They circled the pit just as the sand gave way completely, collapsing into a cavernous hole that swallowed a second-year who'd sprinted straight into it.
His scream echoed hollowly before he vanished below.
Taren shuddered. "Remind me never to doubt you again."
Ahead, the arena shifted again—this time in a calculated sequence.
Dozens of pillars rose in perfect rows, forming a maze stretching across nearly half the arena.
But the pillars didn't stop at the top.
They moved.
Sliding.
Turning.
Switching places with each other like pieces on a living board.
A boy jumped onto one that slid sideways—he fell between the gaps, disappearing into a narrow fissure with a sickening thud.
"This is impossible!" Lira cried.
"No," Serene said softly.
"It's deliberate."
She studied the movements.
Her eyes darted between columns, mapping invisible lines.
"Look at the ones that don't move," she said. "Those are the anchors. The maze shifts around them."
Kael blinked. "How can you possibly see that?!"
Serene pointed.
"The ones with dust settled in the cracks—they've been used in past trials."
Rowen's eyes flickered—a spark of grudging respect.
"You remembered the cracks… from the entrance ramp?"
"Yes."
He nodded once. "Lead."
Serene stepped onto the first stable pillar.
It didn't move.
She leapt to the next—timing it between two sliding columns.
Alden followed, his spear used as balance.
Lira jumped after him, almost slipping but catching the edge.
Taren climbed like a terrified monkey.
Kael cursed the entire time but didn't fall.
Rowen moved last—precise as a blade.
Students dropped all around them—
slammed by pillars,
crushed between stones,
falling into sudden crevices.
The maze shifted again.
Serene shouted, "JUMP NOW!"
Their entire group leaped onto the next anchor column just as the platform behind them rotated and collapsed into rubble.
Taren screamed, "I HATE THIS PLACE!"
Kael yelled, "MOVE!"
Rowen said nothing, but his sharp inhale meant he agreed.
The arena ground ahead flattened again—too flat.
Serene's skin prickled.
"Something's wrong," she whispered.
The sand shimmered like water in the sun.
A wave—an actual wave—rolled through the ground, racing toward them.
Rowen swore softly. "Ground surge."
"It'll swallow us," Alden said.
"No," Serene said.
"It'll follow the highest vibration."
She pointed across the field where a second-year was sprinting wildly, stomping the sand like a panicked beast.
"His footsteps. It's going for him."
Alden frowned. "Then how do we cross?!"
"Lightly," Serene said.
"As lightly as possible."
She stepped onto the trembling sand.
Not running.
Not stomping.
She skimmed across it in long, whisper-soft strides—
barely touching the surface.
Lira followed breathlessly.
Taren tried—failed—tried again.
Kael half-dragged him forward.
Alden moved like a dancer with his spear for balance.
Rowen followed silently—matching Serene's rhythm perfectly.
Behind them, the sand wave surged—
chasing the loudest steps.
The second-year realized too late.
His screams cut short as the sand folded over him and swallowed him whole.
But the wave never touched the first-years.
Serene reached solid ground first.
The moment her boots struck stone, the arena fell still.
Everything stopped moving.
The sand went quiet.
The pillars froze.
The tremors died.
A bell rang above them—deep, metallic, final.
Commander Eira stepped forward on the terrace.
"Phase One," she declared,
"is complete."
A collective cry—half relief, half disbelief—rose from the stands filled with instructors and upper-year observers.
Serene swayed slightly. Her ribs ached. Her legs trembled from the constant corrections. Her braid was coated in dust and sand. But she remained standing.
Lira collapsed to her knees and sobbed into her palms, shaking with delayed terror.
Taren flopped backward on the sand, staring at the sky with wild eyes. "I swear the earth wanted to EAT me."
Alden sank to one knee, breathing deeply, murmuring a quiet prayer of gratitude.
Kael punched the air with a vicious grin. "We're still alive! TAKE THAT, SECOND-YEAR SWINES!"
Rowen didn't celebrate. He watched Serene with an unreadable expression.
Not awe.
Not surprise.
Not rivalry.
Something quieter.
Recognition.
Respect.
Around them, far across the arena, the second-years were battered, bruised, and far fewer in number.
Out of nearly one hundred, maybe sixty remained.
And the first-years—
shaken, terrified, exhausted—
still stood as a unified cluster.
Commander Eira's gaze swept the survivors, and for the briefest heartbeat, her eyes softened.
A silent acknowledgment.
Serene felt it like a flicker of warmth through her chest.
The first-years had survived Phase One.
Not by strength.
Not by arrogance.
Not by desperation.
By discipline.
By intelligence.
By refusing to panic.
Serene closed her eyes and inhaled once.
One phase down.
Three to go.
And the real war was only beginning.