The arena gates slammed shut behind the first-years, sealing them inside the holding hall like prisoners caught between triumph and collapse. The stone room was dim, lit only by flickering sconces along the walls. Dust hung in the air. Every breath tasted like metal and adrenaline.
No one spoke at first.
They didn't have the breath to.
Dozens of first-years leaned on pillars, sank to the floor, clutched at cramping legs, or braced shaky hands on their knees. Armor clattered as bodies trembled from the shock of surviving Phase One.
Taren was bent over with his hands braced on his thighs, gasping so loudly the echoes sounded like sobs. Lira had dropped to her knees entirely, palms scraped raw, braid half undone, her usually soft demeanor cracked open with exhaustion. Alden rested against a wall, sliding down slowly until he sat on the floor, legs stretched in front of him, sweat dripping down his jaw.
Kael punched the stone wall once—hard enough to split his knuckles. It wasn't anger. It wasn't pride. It was disbelief that they'd even made it through.
Rowen stood in the far corner, posture straight but his breath sharp, controlled only through discipline. A long scrape showed through torn cloth at his shoulder, blood running in a thin line down his arm. He pressed his palm to it with a steady rhythm, as if the pain grounded him.
And Serene—
Serene Valehart stood nearly in the center of the room, her shoulders rising and falling with quiet, deliberate breaths. Her palms stung, her legs burned, her ribs ached from where she slammed into the platform edge—but she stayed upright.
Because if she sat, the others would break.
Slowly, the silence grew into noise.
Voices rose—first confused, then frustrated, then frightened.
Someone muttered, "We could've died."
Someone else said, "Phase One? That was Phase One? Gods—what's next?"
A girl in the Lance Division whispered, "I thought I was going to fall. If Serene didn't pull me—"
Another trainee snapped, "Don't pretend she saved us all. Half of you would've tripped if not for Kael clearing that corner!"
The tension burst like a cracked shield.
A boy from the Spirit Division shouted, "This is insane! They're trying to kill us!"
A Sword trainee retorted, "Then leave now! You can still walk out the gate!"
"You can't," Alden said tiredly from the floor without looking up. "You walk out, and you're done. Failed. You won't get a second chance."
Taren pressed a shaking hand over his face.
"I don't care about honor or pride or any of that," he said hoarsely. "I just don't want to die."
"No one is going to die," Serene said.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut the rising panic.
Heads turned toward her—some desperate for reassurance, some doubtful, some resentful, some exhausted enough to cling to any steady voice.
Kael pushed off the wall, still breathing hard. "Don't lie," he said roughly. "You saw the platforms. You saw what Vallis planned. You know they want us crushed."
"Yes," Serene said.
"And we weren't crushed."
The room went still.
It wasn't pride in her voice.
It wasn't arrogance.
It was fact.
Serene wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her wrist.
"We're bruised, bleeding, and barely standing," she continued, "but we're here."
Lira lifted her head from where she sat on the ground.
"Serene…" Her voice shook. "You almost fell. Twice."
"And I didn't," Serene said softly.
Lira inhaled sharply as her eyes brimmed.
Not from fear—but from relief she hadn't felt until this moment.
Rowen finally spoke from his corner.
"She's right."
Everyone turned toward him.
Rowen straightened, wiping blood from his arm.
"They wanted Phase One to break our spirit. Not our bodies. If we had panicked, if we had fought sloppily, if we had turned on each other—we would've lost the Rite before it even began."
A murmur spread through the trainees.
Some nodded.
Some clenched their fists.
Some cried silently.
Some let their shoulders loosen for the first time.
"And we didn't break," Rowen finished.
Kael scoffed but not unkindly.
"Speak for yourself. I nearly threw two people off the damn platform."
"They were in your way," Rowen said.
"That's not comforting!"
Serene almost smiled.
Alden took a long breath, letting his head hit the wall behind him.
"Phase Two," he murmured. "What do you think it'll be?"
No one answered.
The unknown was worse than pain.
Serene stepped closer to the group, drawing herself upright despite the trembling in her legs.
"We can't predict everything," she said.
"But Phase One told us something important."
Taren lifted his head. "What?"
"That they expect us to scatter," Serene said.
"To scramble. To fight as individuals."
Kael snorted. "Well, they're right. Half of us ran in separate directions!"
"That was instinct," Serene replied. "Tomorrow, we need discipline. Direction. We need to move as one."
Rowen's gaze sharpened.
"You're suggesting strategy."
"I'm suggesting we stop letting them control the pace," Serene said. "Today, we reacted. Tomorrow, we act."
Some trainees straightened. Some swallowed hope like water. Some looked confused but willing.
Kael frowned deeply.
"Who put you in charge, Valehart?"
"No one," she said simply.
"And if someone else has a better plan, I'll follow it."
The room stayed silent.
Serene looked around.
"We don't need a leader. We need cohesion."
Rowen stepped forward, wiping the last of the blood from his arm.
"She's right."
Kael scoffed again but didn't argue.
Taren whispered, "Serene… You aren't even the strongest. Why do you—why can you speak like this?"
Serene exhaled.
"I'm not the strongest," she said.
"I'm not the fastest. I'm not even close to the most experienced."
"But," she added quietly, "I do know how to think under pressure."
Lira whispered, "Like a Valehart."
Serene looked at her, and a faint smile touched her bruised lips.
"Yes," Serene said. "Like a Valehart."
The room shifted subtly—energy gathering, fear no longer choking the air but settling into something sharper. Something usable.
Rowen crossed his arms.
"You want cohesion? Then say it clearly."
Serene nodded once.
"Tomorrow," she said, "we survive Phase Two because we choose to move together."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"Together? In what?"
Serene lifted her gaze toward the closed arena gate.
"Whatever comes next."
As if summoned by her words, the horn outside the holding hall sounded—a single, long note that made the flames flicker.
The academy was calling the second-years for their post-phase briefing.
Their turn to panic.
Their turn to plan.
Their turn to realize the first-years had not broken.
The first-years listened to the echo of that horn.
And for the first time since the Rite was invoked…
They believed they might actually stand a chance.