Yuna woke to light that shouldn't exist.
Not sunlight. Not lamplight.
Something in between, silver-gold and pulsing with a rhythm that matched her heartbeat.
It poured through the window, casting strange shadows that moved independently of any source.
Where am I?
Memory crashed back.
Portal. Reach. Academy. Insufficient.
Yuna sat up. Her body ached. Three days of walking through ash, sleeping on stone, running from things that howled.
But the stamina potion Thess had given her had done something. She wasn't recovered. But she could move.
The room was exactly as she remembered. Small. Functional.
Her ash-covered clothes from yesterday were folded neatly on the desk. Cleaned, somehow, while she slept.
Next to them: new clothes. Simple black training gear. Pants, shirt, boots that looked sturdy enough for combat.
A note on top: Training grounds. Dawn. Don't be late. -T
Yuna checked the window. The light outside was brightening. Dawn, or whatever passed for dawn under Valdris's violet sky.
She dressed quickly.
The new clothes fit perfectly, which was either extremely good logistics or extremely creepy magic. Yuna decided not to think about it too hard.
Her pocket. She checked automatically.
The rejection letter was still there. Clean now, like the clothes, but unmistakably the same paper. Someone had cleaned it but not removed it.
Insufficient.
Yuna folded it. Put it back in her pocket.
One hundred twenty days.
She walked out.
The corridor was empty.
Morning light, that strange silver-gold, filtered through windows that showed impossible views. Yuna tried not to look at them too closely.
Tried not to see the forest made of crystal or the ocean burning with cold fire.
Footsteps echoed ahead. Someone else was awake.
Yuna followed the sound. Down stairs. Through a hallway that opened into the courtyard.
Massive. Easily three hundred meters across.
Cobblestones that glowed faintly in geometric patterns. Training equipment arranged in sections: wooden posts for striking, suspended rings for agility, what looked like a small arena in the center.
And people.
Six figures scattered across the training grounds. Some stretching. Some staring at equipment like they'd never seen a punching bag before. Some just standing, looking lost.
The other summons.
Yuna's chest tightened.
She wasn't alone. These people, six strangers from Earth, had survived the same portal, the same crossing, the same impossible journey.
"New arrival?"
The voice came from her left. Male. Deep. Carefully neutral.
Yuna turned.
The boy was massive. Man, maybe. Hard to tell.
At least six-foot-four, broad-shouldered, built like he'd spent his life lifting heavy things.
But his hands.
Yuna's eyes caught on his hands.
They were trembling.
Just slightly. A fine tremor that he was trying to hide by clenching his fists. Knuckles white. Jaw tight.
"Yeah," Yuna said. "Arrived yesterday. Late."
"Three days late." The boy's voice was flat. "Thess mentioned it. Said the Veil held you longer than usual."
He paused.
"I'm Marcus."
"Yuna."
They stood in awkward silence. Marcus's hands kept trembling. He noticed Yuna noticing and shoved them in his pockets.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "They don't... I can't..."
He stopped. Tried again.
"I'm working on it."
"On what?"
"Control."
Before Yuna could ask what that meant, a new voice cut through the courtyard:
"Finally. Someone else who looks like they might have a functional brain cell."
Yuna turned.
A girl rolled toward them.
Not walking. Rolling.
In a wheelchair. Sleek, modern, looked almost technological against the medieval-fantasy aesthetic of everything else in the Academy.
The girl was maybe Yuna's age. Twenty-something. Sharp features, dark skin, black hair cut short and practical.
And her eyes.
She's analyzing me.
Yuna could feel it. The girl's gaze swept over her in two seconds flat and somehow catalogued everything: posture, clothing, ash still probably in her hair, the way Yuna stood with weight shifted to her right leg because her left ankle was still sore from the Reach.
"Aria Steelwright," the girl said, offering a hand. "Former tactical analyst, London Metropolitan Police. Until the portal decided I was more useful here."
She gestured to the wheelchair.
"In case you're wondering: car accident, three years ago. Spine injury. Portal didn't fix it."
Yuna shook the offered hand. Firm grip. Confident.
"Yuna Veylan. Former... nothing, really. Student. Hospital volunteer. Professional rejection recipient."
Aria's lips twitched. Almost a smile.
"Rejected from what?"
"Resonance academies. Fifteen of them. Baseline 2.1."
"2.1?" Aria's eyebrows rose. "And you survived the portal? That's..."
"Statistically improbable," Marcus finished quietly. "She shouldn't be here."
"None of us should be here," Aria corrected.
She spun her wheelchair in a tight circle, surveying the courtyard.
"Seven summons. Seven people Earth decided weren't worth keeping. And somehow we're supposed to save a dying world."
"Did Thess tell you that?" Yuna asked.
"Didn't have to. I can count." Aria pointed to each figure in the courtyard. "Seven of us. Last Academy building has capacity for fifty. Training equipment shows recent heavy use but current population minimal."
She paused.
"Conclusion: this used to be a major training facility. Now it's a last-ditch effort."
Marcus's jaw tightened. "You always this cheerful?"
"I'm realistic. There's a difference."
Aria looked at Yuna.
"You met Thess. She tell you about the hundred-twenty-day countdown?"
"World ends. We save it or die trying. She was vague on details."
"She's vague on everything." Aria's fingers drummed on her wheelchair armrest. "But I've been here three days. Observed. Listened. The Academy runs on a modified Ancient System that accelerates magical growth artificially."
She leaned forward.
"One hundred twenty days because that's how long the system takes to complete a full cycle before it..."
She hesitated.
"Before something happens. Thess won't say what."
"Maybe she doesn't know," Marcus offered.
"She knows. She's just deciding whether we can handle knowing." Aria's eyes narrowed. "Question is: can we?"
Before anyone could answer, a bell rang.
Not a physical bell. The sound came from everywhere and nowhere, a pure tone that vibrated in Yuna's chest and made the geometric patterns on the cobblestones flare bright.
"Assembly," Marcus said. "Thess wants everyone together."
The seven gathered.
Yuna saw them clearly now. Seven people. Seven strangers. Seven insufficient.
Marcus: The massive boy with trembling hands who stood apart from everyone like he was afraid of contaminating them.
Aria: The girl in the wheelchair who analyzed everything with tactical precision and barely disguised frustration at a body that wouldn't cooperate with her mind.
A silent girl: Pale skin, dark hair, wearing clothes that seemed to flicker between visible and invisible. She stood at the edge of the group, eyes unfocused, looking at things no one else could see. Her lips moved constantly but no sound emerged.
A person in vibrant clothes: Gender ambiguous, features that shifted depending on angle and light, wearing colors that hurt to look at directly, crimson bleeding to gold bleeding to violet. They stood with perfect confidence, like they'd been born to perform.
Two others Yuna hadn't met yet: A boy who looked barely eighteen, skinny and terrified, clutching a book like a lifeline. And a girl with burn scars covering her left arm, standing with military posture, eyes constantly scanning for exits.
Seven insufficient.
Seven rejected.
Seven desperate.
Thess appeared without walking.
One moment the courtyard was empty except for them. The next moment she was there, standing in the center, robes shifting colors, that ancient-young face impossible to read.
"Good morning," Thess said.
Her voice carried without shouting.
"You're awake. You're alive. Congratulations. That puts you ahead of the last three groups already."
Silence. None of the seven spoke.
"Introductions," Thess continued. "You'll be training together. Fighting together. Probably dying together. Might as well know each other's names first."
She pointed to Marcus.
"You. Start."
Marcus's hands clenched.
"Marcus Torvik. Norway. Rejected from Oslo Combat Academy. Resonance 3.2."
He paused. His voice dropped.
"I killed my brother. Accident. Couldn't control my strength. That's why I'm here. Because I'm dangerous."
The courtyard went very quiet.
Thess didn't react. Just pointed to the next person.
"You."
Aria.
"Aria Steelwright. London. Tactical analyst background. Rejected from Manchester Academy. Resonance 4.1."
She gestured to her wheelchair.
"Chair isn't temporary. Portal didn't fix me. Still processing how I'm supposed to fight when I can't walk."
The silent girl next.
She opened her mouth. No sound came out. Her face twisted with frustration.
Thess stepped in. "This is Asha. Originally from Delhi. Can't speak. Trauma-induced mutism from the portal crossing. Can't write clearly either. Fine motor control damaged."
Asha's shoulders hunched. She looked down.
"We're working on alternate communication methods," Thess added. "For now, she listens."
"You." Thess pointed to the person in vibrant colors.
"Lyric D'Azur. Paris, but originally Quebec. They/them pronouns, for those keeping track."
Lyric smiled, sharp and performative.
"Rejected from every Academy in Europe, eight total, because my Resonance 'fluctuates unnaturally.' 2.8 to 6.4 depending on mood. Also because I'm an insufferable attention-seeker who uses art as a coping mechanism for crippling anxiety."
They paused.
"But mostly the Resonance thing."
A few nervous laughs. Lyric bowed theatrically.
The scarred girl went next.
"Chen Wei. Beijing. Military family. Rejected from Shanghai Academy. Resonance 3.7."
She gestured to her burn scars.
"Got these in a training accident. Failed candidate. Dishonored family. Here because I have nothing left to lose."
Chen Wei's posture was perfect. Military training visible in every line.
But her eyes. They kept darting to the exits. Calculating. Always calculating escape routes.
"You don't trust this place," Aria observed quietly.
"I don't trust anything," Chen Wei replied. "Trust got me burned. Literally."
The young boy with the book looked like he might cry.
"I... I'm David. David Park. Los Angeles. I'm only seventeen. I got rejected because my Resonance was 1.9 and I... I think there was a mistake. I shouldn't be here. I'm not... I'm not strong enough for this."
David clutched his book like a lifeline. The cover was worn. Advanced Resonance Theory, college-level text.
"You read that for fun?" Marcus asked, not unkindly.
"For survival," David whispered. "If I can't fight, maybe I can think. Maybe knowledge is enough."
"Knowledge got you through the portal," Thess said quietly. "That's more than most manage."
Finally, Thess pointed at Yuna.
"Yuna Veylan. Seoul. Rejected from fifteen academies. Resonance 2.1."
She took a breath.
"My mother died the day the portal took me. I came here three days late because the Veil didn't want to let me through. I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what I can do. But I'm here anyway."
Thess nodded.
Looked at the seven of them. Broken, rejected, insufficient.
"You want to know why you're here? Why we summoned you specifically?"
Her voice was hard.
"Because the last generation of heroes were perfect. Strong. Trained. Confident. Every single one of them died fighting the Unraveling."
She let that sink in.
"So we tried something different. We summoned the imperfect. The broken. The rejected. The insufficient."
Thess's eyes swept across them.
"You're not here because you're strong. You're here because you're desperate. And desperation makes people do impossible things."
Marcus's hands stopped trembling. Just for a moment.
Aria's fingers stopped drumming.
Asha looked up.
"One hundred twenty days," Thess said. "That's how long the Ancient System needs to accelerate your growth from insufficient to transcendent. One hundred twenty days to transform from rejected into legends."
She paused.
"Or die trying."
"But before we begin," Thess continued, "you need to understand what you are. Not just Resonance scores. Those are meaningless here."
She raised her hand. Gold light blazed.
"Attunements. Five types. Each of you carries one."
The seven watched, silent.
"CHORD: emotional connection to the Weave. Manifests through feelings, bonds, sacrifice."
Thess pointed at Yuna.
"Your silver wings. That's Chord. You'll grow stronger through emotional intensity. Grief, love, determination. Every bond you form strengthens your power."
Yuna's chest tightened. Grief makes me stronger?
"RIFT: spatial manipulation. Tactical perception. You see patterns others don't, predict movements, coordinate perfectly."
Thess gestured to Aria.
"That overlay you saw yesterday, seeing three steps ahead in combat scenarios, that's RIFT awakening. You'll eventually bend space itself, create tactical links with allies, see probability branches."
Aria's eyes widened. "The overlay I saw yesterday..."
"That's your Attunement. Yes." Thess nodded. "David shares RIFT with you. Two tactical minds. Redundancy is useful."
David looked up from his book, surprised. "I... I have that too?"
"You survived the portal by calculating dimensional math in your head while reality broke around you," Thess said. "That's RIFT."
She continued.
"ECHO: temporal connection. Precognition, timeline viewing, seeing moments before they happen."
Thess looked at Asha.
"You see three timelines simultaneously. Past, present, future overlapping. That's why speaking is hard. You're experiencing conversation that happened, is happening, and will happen all at once."
Asha nodded frantically. Finally someone understands.
"We'll teach you to focus on one timeline at a time. But your gift, seeing futures, will save lives."
"BEDROCK: physical enhancement. Strength, durability, perfect body control when mastered."
Marcus straightened.
"Your brother's death wasn't random bad luck, Marcus. Your Attunement awakened early, uncontrolled. You've been holding back ever since, terrified of your own strength."
Thess's voice softened fractionally.
"We'll teach you mastery. Chen Wei shares BEDROCK with you. Two physical fighters. You'll train together."
Chen Wei cracked her knuckles. "Finally. Someone who can take a hit."
Marcus's hands steadied slightly.
"RADIANCE: illusion, perception manipulation, beauty weaponized. You don't just create art."
Thess smiled at Lyric.
"You create reality-adjacent experiences. Make people see, feel, believe impossible things. Dangerous. Powerful. Requires absolute emotional honesty."
Lyric's grin turned sharp. "I like dangerous."
Thess lowered her hand.
"These Attunements define how you fight. How you grow. How you survive. Understanding them is the first step to not dying in the next hundred twenty days."
She raised her hand again. Light blazed from her palm, gold and silver and something beyond both.
"Training begins now. Pair up. I want to see what you can do before I break you down and rebuild you into something useful."
The seven looked at each other.
Insufficient. Rejected. Broken.
But together.
Yuna met Marcus's eyes. Saw her own fear reflected there. Her own desperation.
Aria rolled forward. "Well? We doing this or standing around waiting to die?"
Asha nodded once. Fierce. Determined.
Lyric laughed, high and slightly manic. "Oh darling, I've been dying my whole life. Might as well die doing something interesting."
Chen Wei's posture shifted. Combat-ready. "Let's begin."
David clutched his book tighter, then set it down carefully. "I... okay. Okay. I can do this."
Marcus took a deep breath. His hands steadied.
"One hundred twenty days."
Yuna pulled the rejection letter from her pocket.
Looked at it one last time.
Insufficient.
She let it fall.
The paper caught the wind, tumbled across the courtyard, disappeared into morning light.
"One hundred twenty days," she repeated.
Seven insufficient.
One hundred twenty days.
The countdown had begun.
[END CHAPTER 5]