It wasn’t the gates that were intimidating.

It was the silence.

The Crest Spire Academy stood like an obsidian monument carved from a single sorrowful thought. Its towers touched the sky, veined with glowing ley-lines—Shade-etched runes that pulsed like blood vessels. I’d seen the entrance in books, on broadcasts. But standing here now, watching how the wind bent around the place, I realized…

This wasn’t a school.

It was a crucible.

And the fire had already begun.

“Name?”

The registrar didn’t even glance up. His voice was old parchment rubbed between bone.

“Riven Noax.”

There was a beat of silence. Then a slight twitch of his fingers, as if registering the name brought back something unpleasant.

“Hometown?” “Doesn’t exist anymore.” “Shade tier?” “C. Pending evolution.” “Bond type?” “Symbiotic.”

That got his attention.

He finally looked up, one eye gleaming with arc-light.

“Symbiotic recognition at your age? And no noble crest? What’s your bloodline?”

“None. Just me.”

He stared a moment longer than necessary. Then stamped my sigil into a brass plate and handed it to me like it was a curse.

“Don’t die before orientation.”

✦ Dormitory 6-A — “The Hollow Wing”

My assigned room was underground. Of course it was.

All Symbiotic Bonds—especially rogue ones like mine—were regulated under “Containment Law B” and shoved into the Hollow Wing, a derelict sector deep beneath the tower.

Only three other people lived on my floor. I only caught glimpses of them that first day: a girl with an eye patch who never blinked, a boy with antlers growing from his skull, and someone—or something—that moved like a crawling fog.

I dropped my satchel, collapsed onto the stone bunk, and let Aethros stir in the back of my mind.

“You shouldn’t be here,” it whispered. “These halls weren’t built for your kind.”

“Then I’ll burn my name into them.”

Aethros was silent. But not disapproving.

✦ Orientation

They gathered us in the Great Shadewell, a vast arena surrounded by floating rings of conjured glyphs. Hundreds of us stood packed in—new Tamers, noble-born and orphan-stray alike.

A shimmering figure appeared midair. A projection—flawless, ancient. Draped in crimson robes stitched with spectral threads.

“Welcome to the Crest Spire,” he said. “Some of you will learn. Fewer will survive. One of you will rise. The rest…” “...will be forgotten.”

A Shade appeared behind him—a Warden-class, plated in obsidian armor, chained with celestial runes. Its breath alone silenced the crowd.

“Your first test begins in forty-eight hours,” the voice said. “You’ll be dropped into the Spire’s underroot. The last ten standing… ascend. The rest are sent home. Or buried beneath it.”

The projection faded.

The silence broke like shattered glass.

✦ That Night

I couldn’t sleep. The Hollow Wing felt heavier than before. Like something had woken up below it.

Aethros stirred in my mind, whispering warnings. Visions flickered behind my eyes—withered trees, white-eyed corpses, a symbol carved into a mountainside that bled shadows.

I sat up. Something was wrong.

That’s when I heard it. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Not on stone—but inside the walls.

Then a voice.

“You don’t belong here, Noax.”

I stepped out of my dorm into the corridor—and found myself staring at four upper-tier students. All nobility. All bonded to high-tier Stalkers or Wardens.

One of them had a faint glow around his mouth—a sign his Shade was speaking through him.

“We don’t let trash from the surface infect the Spire.”

“I’m not looking for trouble,” I said. “Then you shouldn’t have come here.”

They advanced.

But then something behind me stirred. Something ancient. Cold.

Aethros pulsed through my spine like ink made of thought.

“Let them try, Riven. Let them see what grief looks like when it fights back.”

I didn’t draw my weapon.

I didn’t have to.

The corridor lights flickered.

And the upper-tier’s eyes widened.

Because from the shadows behind me… something grinned back.