Chapter 27B — The Briefing Before the Bloodline Trials
The morning had teeth.
Not the Hollow's jagged stone kind—nothing was crumbling over their heads, nothing was laughing in fog behind them—but a sharper, cleaner bite. The kind that came from being watched in a place that had rules older than your bones.
Aiden felt it the moment he stepped out of the Arrival Wing.
The Academy was fully awake now.
Mist still clung low to the terraces and courtyards, but students moved through it like fish through water—confident, loud, already wearing the steel-green of Erylwood as if they'd been born in it.
Some were fresh arrivals like him: travel-stained, nervous, clutching packs with white knuckles. Others were clearly upper-years—taller, steadier, glancing at the first-years the way hunters glanced at new blades they might need to sharpen later.
Aiden kept his pace even.
Myra walked beside him, chin high like she'd decided the Academy didn't get to intimidate her just because it was built out of five hundred years of stone and ego. Her braid was still damp from the washbasin, and her cloak hung crooked on one shoulder because she'd thrown it on half asleep.
Nellie trotted on his other side, shorter by a head and a half even among first-years. Her curls were tamed into something resembling order, but her eyes kept darting to every tower, every rune post, every knot of students gathering like storm clouds.
And the lightning pup—
It padded at Aiden's heel, tiny paws quiet on rune-carved stone. Its sparks were faint this morning, more like the static from a wool blanket than a storm.
But whenever a whisper turned their way, its ears flicked back and its fur rose a shade brighter.
Aiden's hand kept drifting down to scratch behind its ear, a steady reminder.
Easy. We're safe. We're just walking.
The Academy didn't care.
The whispers came anyway.
"There he is."
"Storm-marked kid."
"That cub's not supposed to exist down here. My uncle says lightning beasts only bond to bloodline heirs."
"I heard the Headmistress pulled him aside at dawn."
"Why?"
"Because he's cursed. You can see it in his eyes."
Aiden didn't look toward any of them.
He could feel Myra's jaw tighten each time a voice sharpened. He could feel Nellie shrink a fraction closer when the word "gnome" floated through a crowd like spit.
He'd lived one life already.
He'd learned what mattered.
Surviving mattered.
Protecting his people mattered.
The rest was noise.
Still…
Noise had a way of turning into blades when you weren't looking.
They crossed a lower courtyard where the terraced gardens opened into a training ring. It was massive—bigger than the entire caravan camp had been. Slate-gray stone formed concentric circles around a central pit, and iron rails rose along the outer rim like a coliseum built for beasts.
Upper-years were already sparring inside.
Not dueling politely.
Fighting.
Steel kissed steel. Beast-bound companions lunged and retreated under shouted commands. A boy with a stone-back harefist clashed against a girl whose bonded falcon flickered through the air like a blade of wind.
The sound hit Aiden right in the ribs.
Some part of him wanted to step down into that pit and test what the storm in his bones could do.
The System stayed silent.
But his instincts didn't.
The pup stiffened, nose twitching toward the ring. Sparks skipped along its spine, eager and skittish at once.
Myra noticed. "It wants to go."
"It wants to fight," Aiden murmured.
"Same," Myra said, then caught herself. "Well… sort of. I want to not die. But I also want to stop feeling like I'm walking around in someone else's castle."
Nellie stared wide-eyed at the sparring pit. "They move like… like they've been doing it since they could walk."
"Most of them have," Aiden said softly.
Nellie swallowed. "Oh. Cool. Great. Love that."
Myra bumped her with an elbow. "Hey. We fought monsters in a collapsing Hollow. If they think we're soft, that's their problem."
Nellie tried to smile. It came out small. "I'm not soft."
"No," Aiden said gently, "you're not."
She blinked at him like that mattered more than it should have.
They started walking again.
The path rose toward the central terraces, where the main spire cut into the sky like a spear. The closer they got, the heavier the air felt. Runes were carved into every archway, every lamp post, every stair—wards woven into the Academy's skin.
Aiden could feel them in his teeth.
Not hostile.
Not friendly either.
Just… aware.
A set of stairs led up to a broad platform overlooking the biggest courtyard on campus. Students packed it shoulder to shoulder—hundreds of first-years in messy clumps, the colors of their home caravans and village clans peeking through travel gear.
A wooden dais stood at the front with three instructor banners behind it. The green of Erylwood. The silver of the Beast Tracks. The black of the Warden's Thread.
Aiden's eyes snagged on that last one.
Black cloth, stitched with a faint spiral that looked like fog caught in moonlight.
His storm sense ticked once—subtle, like a sleeping predator cracking one eye open.
He forced his gaze away.
"See?" Myra whispered. "That's the briefing stage. We're not late."
"Why does that feel like a miracle," Nellie murmured.
Aiden guided them into a spot near the middle—close enough to hear without being shoved into the front.
The pup sat between his boots and Myra's, tail curled around its paws like a cat pretending it wasn't a wolf.
Students noticed anyway.
They always did.
A knot of boys nearby leaned together, whispering too loud for it to count as whispering.
"Is that really a lightning cub?"
"Look at how it's sitting. Like it owns him."
"It probably does. People say storm beasts dominate weak binders."
Myra turned halfway toward them. "Say it louder so the whole courtyard can hear, why don't you?"
The boys froze like someone had slapped them.
One of them—tall, broad, with a jeweled clasp at his throat—recovered first. His smile was lazy and practiced.
"You're Myra Lynell, right?" he said. "Scout track. Village girl."
Myra's eyes narrowed. "And you are?"
"Corvin Hale." He gave a small, mocking bow. "Bloodline crest of the Hale marsh-wardens. I'm sure you've heard of us."
"I don't memorize noble families," Myra said flatly.
A few students snickered.
Corvin's smile sharpened, not quite losing itself, but bending toward something colder.
His gaze slid to Nellie.
"And the gnome. Interesting choice for a healer. I didn't know Erylwood was running charity placements this year."
Nellie's face went hot.
Aiden felt it before he saw it—the way her shoulders tried to fold inward like she was bracing for a blow.
He stepped half a pace forward without thinking.
But another shape moved faster.
Runa Ironjaw shouldered through the crowd from behind the boys like a boulder rolling downhill.
She didn't look big compared to the humans.
She looked immovable.
Her hammer hung across her back. Her steel-green coat was newer than most—first year, like him—but she wore it like she'd been born under a mountain with it stitched to her skin.
She stared at Corvin Hale.
Then at his jeweled clasp.
Then back at his face.
"Charity?" she said.
Corvin blinked. "Pardon?"
Runa popped her neck once, slow and casual.
"Say 'charity' again," she said pleasantly. "I want to hear if the word sounds stupid twice."
A ripple went through the nearby first-years.
Corvin's smile twitched. "You're a dwarf exchange. I don't recall inviting you into human bloodline discourse."
"Yeah?" Runa said. "Funny thing about discourse."
She jabbed her thumb toward Nellie without even looking away from him.
"Tiny healer." Then at Aiden. "Storm brat." Then at Myra. "Knife-mouth scout."
Her eyes bored into Corvin's.
"Those are their names. Which means they're not invisible. Try to act like they are again and I'll show you what a dwarf does to discourse."
Corvin's jaw flexed.
He might've said something worse.
But the courtyard shifted.
Not socially.
Physically.
A shadow fell across the dais.
An instructor had stepped up.
Corvin leaned back like he'd never been speaking at all.
Runa didn't move.
Nellie exhaled so hard Aiden felt it.
"You okay?" Runa muttered, finally glancing sideways.
Nellie nodded quickly. "Yes. Thank you."
Runa grunted. "Don't thank me. Just don't let squeakers write your story for you."
Nellie… smiled.
It was small.
But real.
Aiden caught Myra's eye.
She was trying not to grin.
"Runa," Myra whispered, "you might be my favorite person here already."
Runa looked horrified. "Don't say weird things before breakfast."
Myra snorted.
The pup watched Runa with bright, curious eyes, then huffed a sleepy spark as if filing her away as safe.
The instructor on the dais lifted both hands.
Silence rolled through the courtyard in waves.
Students stilled. Even upper-years on the terraces paused to watch.
The man was older—weathered, broad-shouldered, with hair the color of iron ash and a scar that cut across one eyebrow. His coat was plain steel-green, no family crest, no jeweled clasp.
Authority without decoration.
"First-years," he said.
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It carried.
"My name is Master Garron Veldt. I direct the Bloodline Trials. Today and for the next six days, your lives will be assessed not by your papers, not by your lineage, not by what you claim you deserve—"
His eyes swept the crowd, lingering a heartbeat too long on the noble clusters.
"—but by what you can survive, what you can bind, and what you refuse to abandon."
A faint murmur ran through the students.
Aiden felt Myra straightening beside him.
Nellie's fingers curled around the strap of her satchel.
The pup's ears perked.
Good instincts.
Master Veldt continued.
"These trials are not entertainment. They are filtration. If you fail, you do not die—" he let that settle, then added, "—unless you are stupid."
A few nervous laughs.
None from Veldt.
"Erylwood has one purpose," he said. "To shape beastbinders who can walk into the wild and come back with something worth keeping alive. If you are here because your father paid for your crest to shine on a roster, you will find the wild does not care."
Corvin Hale's jaw tightened from somewhere behind.
Veldt didn't miss it.
He didn't care.
"Today is the Morning Briefing. You will be told nothing about the exact nature of the first trial except one thing—"
He lifted one finger.
"You will enter it alone."
A shockwave of whispers exploded.
"Alone?"
"No teams?"
"They said we'd form trios—"
"That's later—"
Veldt raised his hand once more.
Silence snapped back.
"Later," he said, eyes cold as river stones, "you will fight as parties. You will bond as parties. You will bleed as parties. But first—"
He leaned forward just slightly.
"—you will prove you can stand without a party holding your spine."
Aiden felt something settle heavy in his stomach.
He understood the logic.
He just didn't like what it meant.
Nellie looked like she'd swallowed a marble.
Myra whispered, "Okay. That's terrifying."
Runa muttered, "Good."
Myra blinked at her. "Good?"
"Yeah," Runa said without looking away from the dais. "Better to find out early if your legs are yours or borrowed."
Aiden almost smiled.
Then he remembered Elowen's words.
You will be watched. Closely.
Things that do not understand you will poke you until they think they do.
Master Veldt stepped back, and two more instructors joined him—one a tall elf-blood woman with a hawk perched on her shoulder; another a human man with ink-black gloves and a beast core necklace that looked too old for flesh.
They unrolled a long green scroll.
"Names will be called," Veldt said. "When your name is called, you will step forward, be marked with your trial seal, and receive your entry token. After this briefing you will have until midday to prepare. Eat. Rest. Pray if you must. We don't care what superstition you use so long as it doesn't get you killed."
No laughs this time.
"Once the bell rings at midday," he finished, "the first trial begins. If you're not at the Gate of Thorns when it rings, you fail. If you bring a friend into the gate with you, you fail."
Myra stiffened. "They really mean alone."
"Yep," Runa said.
Nellie whispered, "Do beasts come in with us?"
Veldt seemed to hear the general question.
"Bound beasts may enter." His eyes moved across the crowd again. "Unbound beasts may not. If a beast chooses you during trial, that bond is recognized only if you survive."
Aiden felt the pup press closer to his boot.
He rested a hand lightly on its head.
Okay.
We do this together.
But alone.
Veldt raised the scroll.
"Begin call."
The elf-blood instructor stepped forward and started reading aloud.
Names rang across the courtyard in steady rhythm.
Students stepped up. A small glowing seal—green ink that sank into skin like a rune-tattoo—was pressed to their inner wrist. A wooden token was handed over. They stepped back into the crowd with pale faces and tight grips.
Minutes passed.
Aiden knew the dread of waiting.
It wasn't fear.
It was the knowledge that fear was coming whether you wanted it or not.
Myra's name was called first.
"Myra Lynell."
She inhaled, exhaled, then walked out of the crowd like she was heading into a fight she'd already decided to win.
She returned a minute later with the green wrist-seal glowing faintly.
"Feels itchy," she whispered. "Like a mosquito bite with ambition."
Aiden snorted quietly.
Nellie's name came next.
"Nellie Tinkwhistle."
She froze.
Aiden leaned in. "You've got this."
She nodded hard and trotted forward, cloak swishing around her tiny legs like a flag she was forcing herself to carry upright.
When she came back, her eyes were wet but bright.
"They didn't look at me weird," she whispered.
Runa grunted. "Told you."
Then—
The courtyard went a shade quieter.
Because some names carry weight even before you know why.
"Aiden Raikos."
The elf-blood woman's voice didn't change.
But Aiden felt the way the air shifted.
Like a hundred people inhaled at once to see if the storm kid would spark.
He stepped forward.
The pup rose instantly.
Aiden gave it a calm downward gesture.
Stay.
It hesitated.
Then sat.
Myra and Nellie watched him go like he was walking into a river they couldn't follow.
Runa's stare was hard and unreadable.
Aiden climbed the dais steps.
Master Veldt looked him over without expression.
"No theatrics today," Veldt said quietly.
Aiden met his eyes. "Wasn't planning any."
"Good."
Veldt took the seal stamp.
Pressed it to Aiden's inner wrist.
Green light sank into his skin.
The second it touched—
Aiden felt the wards around the courtyard flicker.
Not visibly.
But inside him.
Like something old had tasted the seal and paused.
The storm behind his ribs lifted its head.
Not in panic.
In recognition.
Aiden kept his face still.
Veldt didn't seem to notice.
Or pretended not to.
He handed Aiden a token.
Black wood.
Thorn-carved edges.
He'd seen maybe three other black-wood tokens so far.
Most were green.
Aiden's mouth went dry.
"What's the difference?" he asked before he could stop himself.
Veldt's eyebrow lifted a fraction.
"Opportunity," he said. And nothing else.
Aiden stepped down from the dais with the token heavy in his palm.
The closer he got to the trio, the louder the whispers became again.
Black token.
Marked kid.
Lightning cub.
Not normal.
Not safe.
Not ours.
He slid back into place beside Myra and Nellie.
Myra saw the black token and went still.
Nellie's eyes widened.
Runa's gaze sharpened.
"What's that mean?" Myra whispered.
Aiden kept his voice low. "I don't know."
Runa muttered, "Means the Academy thinks you're either trouble or a miracle."
"Comforting," Myra said.
"Honest," Runa replied.
Master Veldt lifted his hands again.
"Briefing continues."
He began to speak about logistics—where the Gate of Thorns was, what to bring (water, basic gear, nothing enchanted outside your own core-bond), what not to bring (friends, arrogance, poison unless you're willing to explain it to healers afterward).
But Aiden barely heard it.
Because the black token was warm in his palm now.
Not hot.
Warm.
Like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
He thumbed the carved thorns along its edge.
And felt, faintly, a pulse answer from deep in the Academy.
A direction.
A pull.
The System stayed quiet.
But the storm inside him wasn't.
It was listening.
Waiting.
When Veldt finally lowered his hands, he said the last line with the weight of a hammer falling in a silent cave:
"Midday bell. Gate of Thorns. Alone."
Students began to break apart in nervous clusters, voices rising like a shaken hive.
Myra grabbed Aiden's sleeve.
"Okay," she said fast. "We have a few hours. We eat. We check gear. We don't talk to idiots. We—"
Nellie cut in, voice small. "What if we get separated inside the trial and can't find each other after?"
"We will," Aiden said.
He didn't know how he could say it so sure.
He just did.
The pup stood and pressed its nose into his hand.
The black token pulsed again.
Behind Aiden's eyes, something not-text, not-System, not-memory—
whispered like fog sliding through stone:
This way.
Aiden's breath caught.
Myra didn't hear it.
Nellie didn't.
Runa's head tilted slightly as if she felt a chill she couldn't name.
Aiden closed his fist around the token.
And looked toward the far terrace.
Where a black archway glimmered through the mist.
The Gate of Thorns.
Waiting.
Calling.
The first trial wasn't just beginning at midday.
It was already watching him walk toward it.
And whatever had chased the cub in the marsh—
whatever had not lost his scent—
was somewhere between that gate and his heartbeat, smiling without a mouth.
Aiden swallowed hard.
"Let's get ready," he said.
And the storm behind his ribs purred like it agreed.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Alright, real talk for a second.
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Seriously.
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