The next morning, Mai and Iruminai moved across the academy grounds, the silence between them broken only by the echo of footsteps on stone. Dawn spilled amber and red across the walls, shadows gathering in the arches where the light did not reach. The air was heavy with expectation. Applicants filled the narrow paths, whispering amongst themselves, their movement resembling a river with numerous hidden currents.

“Wonder what they’ve got planned for us today,” Iruminai muttered. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders drawn tight, anticipating whatever trial lay ahead.

Mai’s answer never came. His gaze had already settled on a familiar orange cardigan near the entrance. Ben stood there, shifting restlessly, the morning light outlining him in a way that made his nervousness more apparent than words ever could. His face lit up when he saw them, although his rigid stance gave him away.

“Hey.” His greeting rang too sharp in the morning air, forced. He hesitated, then added, quieter: “Didn’t know if you’d actually come over.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Iruminai asked.

Ben’s shoulders eased, if only a fraction. “Most people don't stick around after watching someone humiliate themselves.”

Mai’s lips tugged into a thin smile. “Trust me, we’ve seen worse. I once watched Iruminai trip in practice and take down an entire weapons rack with him.”

“That was your fault,” Iruminai said flatly.

The tension cracked. He let out an awkward but authentic laugh, and the sound seemed to bridge the gap between them. Together, they crossed the threshold into the orientation hall.

The space opened around them in a vast circle. Rows of desks fell away like descending steps, tier after tier, drawing the eye down toward the polished wooden stage at the center. Overhead, lamps burned in ornate fixtures, their light spilling downward in pale sheets. A solitary podium waited below, stark and expectant.

Mai slowed at the threshold, the weight of the hall pressing down until his voice dropped to a whisper. “This place is… massive.”

The murmur of applicants grew faint beneath the dome, swallowed by the scale of the chamber. The three of them descended, the scrape of wood against stone marking each step until they settled into curved chairs midway down.

Mai leaned forward. His eyes caught on the spiral of iron sunk into the stage floor, a staircase vanishing into darkness. The sight tugged at him, unsettling in its suggestion of hidden chambers.

The hush of voices under the dome reminded Mai less of a classroom and more of an audience waiting for the curtains to rise. He lowered his voice instinctively. “It feels like a performance hall.”

Ben followed his gaze. “Exactly right. A friend of mine performed here once. They open the doors to public events. That’s why it’s so large—even if there aren’t many students normally using it.”

More applicants filtered into the hall, finding their places quietly. Mai studied each face, noting the subtle tells: restless hands, quick glances, backs held too rigid or too loose. Everyone carried their nerves differently.

A familiar figure near the front caught his attention. The Ethrian boy from the day before sat with a casual—almost too cool—posture. A pocket of empty space surrounded him, untouched, as if the others had agreed without speaking to keep their distance.

Ben sank lower in his chair, as if trying to melt into the wood. His eyes too had fixed on the boy.

A proctor moved toward the entrance, grasping the iron handles of the massive doors. The low murmur of conversation settled as everyone realized the orientation was about to begin.

The doors were inches from closing when a desperate cry split the air.

"WAIT!"

Every head in the hall turned toward the commotion. A green-haired boy with long rabbit ears burst through the narrowing gap, nearly colliding with the startled proctor. He skidded to a halt, chest heaving, his entire body covered in a fine layer of dust. Dark smudges marked his face and hands, as though he'd crawled through a chimney to get there. His shirt hung loose on his frame, suspenders were sliding off one shoulder, and his trousers' hems frayed from hard use. Despite the disarray, there was a restless energy in the way he carried himself.

The bunny Ferlyn looked around, seeming to realize for the first time that he'd become the center of attention. His ears twitched once, twice—then, inexplicably, he grinned.

"I made it in time," he announced, holding up a pristine white paper that stood in stark contrast to his disheveled appearance. His smile widened into a triumphant grin before he collapsed into the nearest empty seat, sending up a small cloud of dust that made his neighbors lean away.

Mai felt a smile tugging at his lips. The contrast between the boy's messy arrival and his perfectly neat application was strangely charming.

"Wonder what happened to him," Iruminai muttered.

"Nothing good," Ben replied, but his earlier melancholy had lifted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

The proctor at the door sighed visibly before closing the massive doors with a resonant thud. The sound echoed through the chamber, marking a definitive end to arrivals. All eyes shifted toward the stage as a figure emerged from the spiral staircase.

Mai straightened in his seat, curiosity piqued. The bunny Ferlyn's dramatic entrance had lightened the atmosphere, replacing the suffocating tension with a ripple of amusement. Even now, the boy was frantically brushing dust from his clothes, oblivious to the stares still directed his way.

The figure that emerged from the spiral staircase was a young Vesrin man in formal clothing, a capelet flowing from his shoulders as he moved with practiced grace to stand beside the podium. His presence commanded attention, but it was merely a prelude.

A second figure followed, and the room's atmosphere shifted. The Ethrian woman who ascended wore similar but grander clothing—royal attire that gleamed with subtle embroidery and carefully placed insignia. Though she appeared the same age as the Vesrin, something in her bearing suggested centuries of experience, perhaps millennia. Her movements carried the unhurried confidence of someone who had never needed to rush.

The feelings of excitement and anticipation settled over the crowd as the Ethrian took her spot at the podium. Mai froze, recognition striking him. That flowing silver hair, those regal features—unchanged from the memories of his childhood.

Her Highness, Velara.

His throat went dry as the thought surfaced. Everyone in Arcury knew her. She was the same ageless beauty who had graced festival appearances and royal processions through his hometown. The sight of her opened a door to memories he had locked away—lantern-lit streets, his parents pointing toward the royal carriage, the awe that had once filled his chest.

The hall stilled as she set her hands on the podium. Her gaze swept over the crowd, steady and unhurried, as though she were measuring each soul before her. When she spoke, her voice carried without strain, quiet yet resonant.

“I am Velara, Crown Princess of Arcury. By birth, I bear the Ethrian line of our throne. By duty, I serve as guardian of this Academy. Edgewater does not open its gates lightly. The days ahead will bring tests. Not only in strength, but in resolve, intelligence, and character. What you reveal in those moments will decide your place here.”

Her expression softened by a fraction, though her eyes remained sharp. “Edgewater is not only a place of learning. It is the crucible of Arcury’s future. The eyes of the crown will be upon you.”

Velara's gaze swept across the hall once more, lingering for a breath on each section. Mai couldn't shake the feeling that she had looked directly at him, something had flickered there—recognition, or perhaps only his imagination—gone as quickly as it came.

Strange.

"You will be taken to a specially constructed labyrinth beneath this school for the examination," she stated. "Each of you will enter with only the items you carry now and a few items provided for each applicant: a water flask, a small dagger, and a lantern. Nothing more."

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Beside him, Iruminai sighed in relief, subtly reaching for his father's sword, which stayed sheathed on his lower back.

"Within this labyrinth," Velara continued, her voice cutting through the murmurs, "you will find various obstacles—puzzles, barriers, creatures that have made their home below. Your task is simple: find your way out."

The Vesrin man beside her unfurled a scroll. Lines of pale purple light traced its surface before vanishing, leaving behind a single deep purple crystal suspended before each applicant.

The crystal hovered in front of Mai, turning slowly in the air, its facets catching the light in hypnotic patterns. He resisted the urge to reach out.

"The labyrinth holds twenty-four exits." Velara said. "Each exit may be used only once. There is no time limit for this examination." Her words carried an unmistakable weight as she paused. "The test concludes when every exit is claimed, regardless of how many applicants remain inside."

Mai’s ears twitched at that. Twenty-four. That was generous by Edgewater’s standards—almost twice what the Academy typically admitted in a year. For a place built on scarcity, the number felt strange.

Iruminai leaned closer. "Clever design," he whispered. "Forces cooperation in the beginning, but guarantees competition."

Ben stiffened, eyes darting across the chamber. "Twenty-four out of two hundred?" His voice was tight, almost incredulous. "That’s brutal. They really expect us to tear each other apart for a spot?"

Mai stayed quiet, deep in thought. First things first—find Iruminai. If we stuck together… well, that’d make things easier. But would we even run into each other in this maze? And even if we do, what happens at an exit? Do we fight for it, or do I let him go through before me?

Velara's smile emerged slowly, a hint of something unsettling in its perfection. The expression never quite reached her eyes. She bowed with practiced grace, her silver hair catching the light.

"You know what awaits. Now claim the crystals before you."

Mai glanced at Iruminai, who looked equally uncertain. Around the hall, applicants shifted in their seats, exchanging wary glances. No one moved at first, each waiting for the others to take the risk.

Ben’s hand hovered near his crystal, fingers trembling before closing around it.

As if breaking a spell, others followed suit. Mai's fingers closed around the hovering gem, feeling its cool surface against his palm. Iruminai grabbed his at the same moment.

A burning sensation spread across Mai's palm as the crystal pulsed against his skin. Then the world… changed.

The surrounding hall stretched and warped, colors bleeding into one another as reality itself seemed to tear. The faces of nearby applicants warped into a fluid, glass-like state, appearing to melt and stretch. Mai tried to cry out, but his voice scattered into sound fragments that echoed from all directions at once. The solid bench beneath him fell away, leaving him suspended in dissolving space.

Every surface, from the walls to the floor, disintegrated into sparkling fragments that dispersed rapidly.

Then darkness.