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84: The Gauntlet

  The next morning, Adrian stood outside Principal Faesbane’s office. The quiet of the hour only made the tension knotting in his chest all the more palpable. He clenched his fists briefly before releasing them, forcing himself to exhale. If I’m going to do this, I need to keep my head clear.

  The heavy oak door loomed before him, its surface carved with intricate patterns that caught the dim light. Adrian hesitated for a moment before raising his hand and rapping firmly.

  “You may enter." Myrael said loudly.

  He pushed the door open, stepping inside. The room was just as he remembered it: a study in refined power. Myrael sat behind her desk, her hands folded neatly atop it, and her piercing gaze cutting straight through him.

  “Punctual,” she remarked with a slight curve of her lips, as if he’d just passed the first of many tests. “Good. Sit.”

  Adrian moved to the chair he’d occupied the day before, lowering himself onto the smooth leather. He forced himself to meet her gaze, though the way her violet eyes glinted like sharpened steel made it no easy task. “So, what exactly do you want me to do?”

  Myrael leaned back, her movements fluid and deliberate, and regarded him with a faintly amused expression. “Patience, Adrian. All in good time.”

  He frowned but kept his thoughts to himself. She’s enjoying this far too much.

  Myrael rose from her chair with a fluid grace, her movements deliberate as she made her way toward the towering bookshelves that lined the room. Adrian’s eyes followed her intently, his unease gnawing at the edges of his curiosity. Her fingers drifted over the spines of the books as though she were searching for a particular thread.

  She paused over a volume bound in worn black leather, then tugged it partially free. A faint click echoed through the room, followed by a low, resonant rumble that vibrated through the floor.

  Adrian stiffened as the bookshelf groaned and shifted. Stone ground against stone, the shelf sliding inward before gliding to the side, revealing a dark, narrow passageway hidden behind it. A rush of cool air poured into the room, carrying the earthy scent of damp stone and a metallic tang that stung faintly at the back of his throat.

  Myrael turned back to him, her violet eyes catching the dim light with an almost mischievous glint. “Follow me."

  Adrian stood slowly, dragging his boots against the polished floor as though they had grown heavier. He crossed the room toward the newly revealed passage, pausing briefly at the threshold.

  “Are you always this dramatic?” he asked sarcastically as he glanced back at her.

  Myrael chuckled softly. “A little drama keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”

  He opened his mouth for a retort but stopped himself, pressing his lips into a thin line. She really does enjoy keeping me in the dark, doesn’t she?

  Adrian stepped through the hidden doorway, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily against him. The air grew colder as he descended the spiral staircase that wound down into the stone. Each step echoed faintly, the sound swallowed by the dense silence that seemed to deepen with every turn.

  “What is this place?” Adrian asked. He wasn’t sure why he whispered, perhaps it was the oppressive stillness of the space, or the way the shadows pressed in on him from all sides.

  Myrael’s voice drifted down from above him. “A relic of the academy’s past. Long before this place became a sanctuary for learning, it served another purpose.”

  Her words stirred something uneasy in his chest, but she didn’t elaborate, leaving his imagination to churn. What kind of place is this academy really?

  Few torches lined the walls, their faint light barely enough to keep the encroaching darkness at bay. The damp air pressed against his skin as Myrael’s steps echoed ahead of him. She acts like she’s done this a thousand times. Maybe she has.

  At last, the staircase opened into a wide chamber. Adrian stopped short, breath catching as he took in the space. Massive stone columns loomed like sentinels, carved with runes that glowed faintly with a silvery light. The pale illumination rippled across the room, casting shifting patterns on the walls.

  A circular platform stood at the chamber’s center, engraved with elaborate symbols that twisted and coiled in intricate, unfamiliar patterns. The runes etched into the platform pulsed faintly, their glow rhythmic and hypnotic.

  Myrael stepped lightly onto the platform before turning to face him. “This is where we’ll begin.”

  Adrian hesitated at the edge of the platform, his eyes darting toward the glowing runes beneath her feet. The light they cast was faint, but there was something about their steady pulse that held his attention, as though the platform itself was waiting for him.

  “What exactly is this?” Adrian asked.

  Myrael tilted her head, a hint of amusement flickering across her features. “A test, one that will reveal whether you’re truly prepared for what lies ahead.”

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  The stone beneath Adrian’s boots was cold, the chill seeping through the soles and biting at his feet. The air shifted as he stepped onto the platform, dense and electric, as though the chamber itself had drawn its breath and held it. I have a bad feeling about this place.

  Myrael’s violet eyes bore into him. “Are you ready, Adrian?”

  He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, locking his gaze with hers. “I’ve come this far. Let’s get it over with.”

  “Good. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  Myrael extended a hand, pressing her palm against one of the glowing runes etched into the platform. The chamber responded instantly, springing to life. The symbols blazed, their silvery light erupting in a brilliant cascade that painted the walls in shifting patterns. A deep, resonant hum rolled through the air, vibrating in Adrian’s chest like the toll of a distant bell.

  The vibrations settled into a steady rhythm, and Myrael withdrew her hand, the glow dimming slightly but remaining vibrant enough to light the room. She turned, gesturing toward the edge of the platform where an archway had materialized as if conjured from the very stone.

  Adrian stepped closer, his boots scuffing against the stone as he approached the archway. The shadows beyond its threshold seemed impenetrable, stretching endlessly into the unknown.

  He cast a wary glance at Myrael, his brow furrowing. “This doesn’t exactly scream ‘safe.’ Are you sure this is somewhere I should be?”

  Myrael lowered her hand from the rune and turned to face him fully. “You won’t have to worry about classes for the next few days,” she replied smoothly, stepping past him toward the archway. "I'll ensure your record remains intact.”

  Adrian’s jaw tightened, his patience fraying. “That’s not what I asked,” he said, his tone sharper now. He crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. Why does she always dance around the actual question?

  Myrael paused, glancing back over her shoulder with an amused glint in her violet eyes. “Ah, Adrian. Always so focused on the immediate danger. I admire that... in moderation.”

  She turned fully, her expression shifting into something more thoughtful, almost nostalgic. “Long before this academy became what it is today, it served a far different purpose. This land was once the training ground for war mages.”

  “War mages?”

  “Mages trained not in the luxuries of theory or polite spellcraft, but in survival. In combat. They were the sharpest blades honed for the battlefield, and this dungeon was one of the tools used to forge them.”

  “And you think I’m ready for something like that?”

  “If you can clear this, you’ll be ready for far more than you realize.”

  “What exactly does ‘clear this’ mean? Are there monsters down there? Traps? Something worse?”

  “All of the above, but nothing you can’t handle if you trust in your abilities.”

  Myrael's words settled heavily in Adrian's chest. He stared at the archway, the shadows shifting faintly, as though daring him to step inside. No going back now.

  He exhaled sharply, his breath clouding faintly in the cold air. “Fine. What’s the catch?”

  “There’s always a catch,” Myrael said with a sly smile. “But you’ll discover it soon enough.”

  Adrian clenched his fists at his sides, forcing his nerves to steady. He stepped toward the archway.

  The corridor was narrow and damp, slick with condensation that glimmered faintly in the dim light of small, embedded runes. His footsteps felt heavier here, the weight of the air pressing against him with an almost oppressive force.

  Behind him, Myrael’s voice broke the silence. “You’ll find the first challenge just ahead. Remember, Adrian, hesitation is your enemy here. Move with purpose.”

  He glanced back, her silhouette framed by the faint light of the chamber beyond. She stood just outside the archway, her expression as composed as ever.

  “And if I fail?” Adrian asked..

  “Then we’ll know you’re not ready for what lies ahead. But, I don’t think that will happen.”

  Her confidence in him was unnerving, but it also lit a spark of determination in his chest. Adrian turned back to the corridor, inhaling deeply.

  The corridor widened as Adrian moved forward, his steps deliberate and cautious. The faint light from the runes lining the walls was just enough to illuminate the path ahead. This place feels ancient... I wonder when was the first time these walls were built?

  As he ventured further, the walls shifted subtly. The clean-cut stone gave way to rougher, older slabs, worn smooth by time. The runes grew sparse, leaving pockets of near-darkness that his eyes struggled to penetrate.

  Then, the passage opened into a wider chamber. He stopped at the threshold, his breath catching. The room was vast, its ceiling lost in shadow. Rows of stone pillars stretched toward the darkness above, their surfaces carved with faint, weathered symbols. Scattered across the ground were broken shards of bone, fragments that crunched under his boots as he stepped inside.

  Adrian’s stomach tightened as he knelt, brushing away a layer of dust from one of the larger bones. It was a human femur, its edges jagged as though it had been gnawed or shattered.

  He scanned the area, his heart thudding in his chest. More bones were scattered across the chamber, some still partially intact. Whole skeletons lay crumpled in unnatural positions, their empty sockets staring upward as if frozen in terror. What happened to them? And how long have they been here?

  The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance. Adrian forced himself to keep moving, stepping carefully around the remains. A tattered piece of fabric caught his eye, draped over what had once been a shoulder. It was rotted and faded, but the faint trace of stitching hinted at its original craftsmanship.

  His eyes swept the floor until something caught his attention: a piece of parchment wedged beneath a skeletal hand. The fingers curled around it as if protecting it even in death. Adrian crouched, hesitating for only a moment before carefully prying the brittle paper free. It crinkled in his grasp, threatening to disintegrate, but the ink was still legible enough.

  He held the note closer to one of the glowing runes on a nearby pillar, the weak light revealing hurried, uneven handwriting. The words were shaky as the strokes growing more erratic toward the bottom.

  To whoever finds this,

  I don’t know how much time I have left. They sent me down here to “learn my lesson,” but this isn’t punishment, it’s a death sentence. The things I’ve heard... the shadows that move when there’s no light... This place is alive, and it hates us. The others are gone, taken by whatever’s lurking in the dark. I’m next. I can feel it watching me.

  I was foolish to think I could defy them, to believe I was untouchable. If you’re reading this, leave. Don’t try to fight it. Don’t try to prove yourself. Just leave.

  —Darius Venn, Mage Initiate

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