Chapter 27C — The Gate of Thorns
The Gate of Thorns waited like a living thing.
Aiden had seen it only from the distance of the briefing—just a black archway cutting through fog beyond the courtyard—but up close, the structure looked older than the Academy built around it.
Older than the carved terraces.
Older than the ward lanterns.
Older, maybe, than any of them had a right to stand beside without being swallowed.
The arch rose from the earth in twisted curves of darkwood turned to stone—vines fossilized mid-coil, runes etched over them in spiraling script. Thorns jutted outward in uneven rings, each one sharp as glass, each one humming with that faint pressure Aiden had felt inside the Verdant Hall.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was the kind of pressure a storm carries right before the sky decides to split.
The closer he stood, the more the Gate seemed to… notice him.
Mist leaned inward from all sides, curling toward the archway as if pulled by breath. Even the green ward-lanterns lining the courtyard posts dimmed a shade, their flames bending toward the black thorns like iron filings toward a magnet.
Aiden rolled the black token between his fingers.
It was smooth and cold, carved from some onyx-like mineral that drank light instead of reflecting it. The Academy clerk had called it "a mark of incident," but the way Veldt's gaze had lingered on it during the briefing made Aiden feel like that phrase meant more than paperwork.
He closed his hand around it anyway, grounding himself in the hardness of it.
Midday bell hadn't rung yet.
But the Gate already felt awake.
Waiting.
Listening.
Students crowded the courtyard behind him—first-years in steel-green training cloaks, still too clean for the week ahead. There had to be hundreds. Their voices were messy and loud in the way people got right before they were forced to do something terrifying.
Some whispered prayers under their breath.
Some laughed too hard.
Some boasted loudly about beast cores they didn't have yet.
A few stared openly at Aiden and the lightning pup like they'd been given a free show.
Myra and Nellie stood close.
Runa stood closer.
The pup sat pressed against Aiden's boot, fur lifted in faint sparks, little nose twitching at the air as if it could smell the Gate's mood.
Myra kept watching the archway with a scowl. "I don't like how it's looking at you."
"It doesn't have eyes," Aiden murmured, but his voice didn't sound convinced even to him.
"Doesn't need them," Myra replied. "Some doors judge you just by breathing near them."
Nellie nodded so hard her curls bounced. "And that one? That one totally judges."
Runa snorted like judgment was a boring subject. "If a door can judge, it can be punched."
Aiden blinked at her. "You're going to punch the trial gate?"
Runa shrugged. "If it deserves it."
The pup yipped in agreement—or outrage. Hard to tell with storm cubs.
Beyond the Gate, the grounds fell away into foggy forest. The archway wasn't linked to any visible corridor. It was a tear in the world with nothing on the other side but mystery and teeth.
Aiden tried not to stare too hard.
The last time a hole in the world had opened near him, a monster had tried to crawl through it.
He caught himself rubbing his thumb across the black token again.
Breathe.
He heard Nellie shifting beside him. She was bouncing her heels nervously, a habit she'd picked up somewhere on the road. She kept trying to look at the Gate, then looking away like it might see her fear.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
Nellie nodded too fast. "Yes. Totally. Fine. I am brave and not at all terrified of doors that eat people's souls."
Myra snorted a laugh. "If it eats souls, it's definitely going to choke on mine."
Runa grinned. "Good. I want to see that."
Aiden felt a flicker of warmth in his chest at their banter. Not because he wasn't scared—he was. But because they were right here with him. Real. Alive. Making jokes in the shadow of something ancient.
He'd died once in a world full of strangers.
He wasn't doing that again if he could help it.
A line of upper-years perched along the surrounding balconies and stone steps that faced the courtyard like an amphitheater. Some looked bored. Some looked hungry for spectacle. A few held notepads or chalk slates—records, maybe, for instructors.
One upper-year with a braided ponytail and a scar down her cheek leaned toward her friend and whispered loudly enough for half the courtyard to hear:
"That's the Hollow kid. The lightning one."
A ripple moved through the first-years.
Aiden felt the sudden shift of attention like a cold draft.
Here we go.
A tall boy in immaculate emerald robes—one of the early-mouth bullies Aiden had already met—was in a line two clusters over. He turned his head, smirked when he saw Aiden watching, and mouthed something silent.
Dead weight.
Aiden looked away.
Not because he was afraid.
Because picking fights before trials was a dumb way to die.
The midday bell hadn't rung, but the instructors were already moving.
Master Veldt strode toward the low platform built near the Gate, his scar glinting under the pale noon light. Behind him stood three instructors and two clerks holding horn and ledger.
Veldt's presence did to the courtyard what wind does to tall grass.
Everyone quieted without even realizing they were doing it.
"Form your lines," Veldt ordered. His voice was flat, practical, unromantic as a blade. "Tokens ready. When the bell finishes its second ring, you enter. Alone."
Alone.
The word hit the crowd like a stone dropped into still water.
Someone near the back whispered, "They really mean alone?"
"Yes," another whispered back, voice shaky. "You heard him."
Nellie's ears—just visible beneath her curls if you knew to look—twitched.
Myra muttered, "That better not mean alone alone. I am not letting Nellie walk into fog-maze hell without a plan."
Nellie squeaked, "Is it fog-maze hell?"
Runa shrugged again. "Probably. Makes sense."
Myra glared at her. "How are you so calm?"
Runa glanced sideways, deadpan. "I'm not calm. I'm just from a place where the only way to live is to pretend you're not scared and hit whatever scares you."
Myra opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Then nodded once like she understood something she didn't have words for yet.
Aiden glanced down.
The pup was stiff, ears low, eyes locked on the Gate.
Not panicking.
Not hiding.
Watching.
Waiting.
He knelt and placed one hand lightly on its head. Sparks danced up his fingers in faint tickles.
"You stay with them while I'm inside," he whispered.
The cub blinked up at him.
Unhappy.
Confused.
But listening.
He could feel the bond thread between them—thin, early, still learning its own shape—tremble like a plucked string.
Myra crouched too, elbow on her knee, voice quieter now. "It'll be okay. We'll be right here. You'll be back before it can decide to start a riot."
Nellie nodded, suddenly fierce through her fear. "We'll keep your pup safe. And if anyone tries something stupid, I will bite them."
Aiden blinked. "Nellie—"
"I'm small, not helpless," she said quickly. "Gnomes bite."
Runa murmured, "That's true."
The pup made a tiny offended chirp, then scooted closer to Nellie anyway.
Aiden stood, rolling his shoulders. He was about to say something else—something steadying, something that would make their nerves ease—
—but his black token went hot.
Not warm.
Hot.
A pulse flared through his palm and ran up his arm like a cold flame.
The Gate's runes flashed.
The mist inhaled sharply.
Veldt's gaze snapped to him.
"Black-mark candidate," the master called. "Step forward!"
The courtyard exploded.
Whispers slashed through the air like thrown knives.
"Black-mark—?"
"That's the marsh kid—"
"He's going early—?"
"No, the Gate is choosing him first—"
"Aberration survivor—"
"This is going to be brutal—"
Nellie grabbed his arm hard. "Aiden—wait—"
Myra's eyes were huge. "You don't have to rush, right? I mean—it's order, but if you need a second—"
"The instructor said hesitation makes it worse," Nellie squeaked, panic climbing into her voice.
Runa didn't speak.
She stared at him.
Hard.
Like she was memorizing him in case this was the last time she saw him whole.
Aiden looked at all three of them.
Myra—trying to hide her fear with anger and jokes.
Nellie—trying to be brave while shaking like a leaf.
Runa—already ready to swing a hammer at destiny if destiny looked at Nellie wrong.
And the pup—
The pup whined softly, ears low, lightning flickering in tiny warning-crawls.
He smiled at them.
Small.
But real.
"I'll see you soon," he said.
Myra swallowed. "You better."
Nellie's voice cracked. "Aiden, please come back."
Runa finally spoke, voice gruff but steady. "He will. He's stubborn enough to fight the Gate itself."
Aiden gave her a grateful nod.
Then he stepped out of their cluster and walked forward.
Each step toward the Gate felt heavier than the last.
Not because the ground pulled him down—
—but because every ward, every rune, every ancient line in the courtyard turned toward him like a head lifting to watch a rabbit wander into wolf territory.
He could feel eyes on his back:
Upper-years leaning forward.
Instructors tracking him.
First-years shrinking away like his black token might infect them with bad luck.
He didn't flinch.
He just kept walking.
The Gate loomed, mist pulling inward with every inhale.
The black token glowed like a coal in his hand.
Veldt stepped aside, studying him with unreadable eyes. "Raikos. You enter first."
Aiden nodded once.
No words.
Words felt brittle right now.
He reached the final steps.
The Gate filled his vision.
Darkwood turned to stone.
Thorns like frozen lightning.
Runes crawling in spirals that made his eyes itch if he focused on them too long.
A chill slid across his spine.
Not fear.
Not cold.
Recognition.
The same sensation he'd felt in the marsh when the fog-entity brushed his storm.
The same sensation he'd felt in Verdant Hall when the pools rippled without being touched.
His token throbbed again.
The Gate answered.
A whisper slid against his mind, not heard but felt, like fog brushing a stone wall—
Found you again.
Aiden's breath hitched.
He didn't know why a Gate could whisper.
He didn't know why the words sounded like memory instead of threat.
He only knew his storm stirred behind his ribs, not raging—listening.
The thorns along the arch shifted subtly, like a beast adjusting its weight.
Behind him, someone gasped.
Myra whispered his name like a prayer.
Nellie hugged the pup tighter.
Runa's hammer hand tensed.
Aiden lifted the token.
The Gate's runes flared green-black.
A breath of air drifted out of the archway—cold, old, and faintly sweet, like leaves after a lightning strike.
He stepped forward.
The world swallowed him whole.
Mist closed around him like a mouth.
Sound vanished.
Light vanished.
For half a heartbeat there was nothing but pressure and the sense of falling sideways into somewhere that didn't exist on any map.
Then—
Something inside the trial-space woke.
Not a roar.
Not a scream.
A low, patient attention, the way a forest wakes when a fox steps into its heart.
Aiden felt it turning toward him.
Measuring.
Choosing.
He opened his mouth—
And the Gate sealed behind him with a soft, final breath.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Alright, real talk for a second.
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