[BOOK 1] Chapter 4: First Trial
[BOOK 1] Chapter 4: First Trial
The morning mist clung tightly to the enchanted forest surrounding Achazian Academy, coiling like serpents between trees and towers. Students gathered in the central courtyard, their robes fluttering and nerves humming with anticipation.
Professor Elzora stood at the front, her silhouette outlined by the golden light of dawn. Behind her, floating in the air, was a shimmering portal—swirling with runes, wind, and whispers.
“Today,” she announced, “you will enter the Trial of the Four Houses.”
Gasps. Even upper-year students stiffened.
Elzora’s gaze swept the crowd. “This is not a competition. It is not about who wins or who loses. It is about who listens. Who adapts. Who endures.”
“The trial is alive...” she continued. “It changes shape. It reacts to your spirit. And it remembers who you are.”
Lychein stood between Zharmyst and Britney, heart pounding in her chest like a trapped bird. Her fingers were cold, but something deep inside her flickered—curiosity. Readiness.
The portal pulsed brighter, and names began to glow in the air above it.
Groups of five. Mixed across dormhouses. A test not only of magic, but of unity.
Lychein’s group included:
Zharmyst (Violet Dragon) – Quiet and strong, she controls shadows and always stands by Lychein’s side. She protects with calm and focus.
Ceyron (Blue Dragon) – Clever and quick, he controls wind and lightning. He’s sharp-tongued but loyal, and his magic is wild like the storm.
Luneira (Blue Dragon) – Calm and kind, she uses moonlight and music to create illusions. She understands others even without words.
Sylric (Blue Dragon) – Gentle and dreamy, he controls starlight. He loves to draw, and his sketches come to life with magic from the stars.
The five of them exchanged glances. Zharmyst gave a faint nod. Ceyron rolled his eyes.
“This will be fun...” he muttered. “The mystery girl and her fire shows.”
Lychein straightened but said nothing.
The portal opened.
They stepped through.
The air on the other side felt thicker. Older. They emerged into a forest glowing with violet mist. The trees here were tall and arched, forming cathedrals of leaves. Crystals hovered between branches. Time felt slower.
A voice—not Elzora’s, but something deeper—rumbled from above:
“ Five have entered. One will lead. All must trust. ”
A pathway opened before them, paved in glowing symbols.
Ceyron took a step forward. “Well, if this thing’s going to test us—”
The ground cracked.
A vine snapped out and coiled around his ankle, yanking him upside down and suspending him from a tree.
“—I was going to say, let’s not get cocky!” he groaned.
Luneira flicked her wand and cut him loose with a spell.
Zharmyst eyed the path. “This isn’t about strength. It’s about harmony.”
“We have to walk as one.” Lychein murmured, remembering something from a dream—a dragon saying: “ The path opens when hearts beat as one .”
The group formed a line, hands nearly touching, and moved carefully together. The path responded—glowing brighter under their synchronized steps.
They passed illusions meant to trick them: a vision of Sylric’s dying pet fox, Luneira’s parents scolding her, Zharmyst standing alone in a burning tower.
Each time, Lychein reached out. Spoke. Calmed. She didn’t know why she knew what to say—but the words came from somewhere inside.
Finally, they reached a stone platform, and the voice spoke again:
“ One must face the flame alone. ”
The others looked at each other, hesitant.
Lychein stepped forward.
The air changed instantly.
She stood before a great brazier—cold, but surrounded by shifting symbols. The moment she approached, it flared with fire. Not red or orange—violet.
“It recognizes me.”
A vision struck her—a memory that was not her own.
A girl standing at this very altar centuries ago. Eyes like hers. Fire spiraling from her hands. Behind her stood a dragon carved of starlight.
“ Do not fear the fire.” the vision whispered. “ You are born of it. ”
Lychein reached into the flames.
The others gasped—but she did not burn.
Instead, the flame rushed up her arms, coiling like a cloak. Her eyes shone bright violet.
A pulse burst from the brazier—washing over the whole forest.
When the group returned through the portal, the other students fell silent.
Professor Elzora looked at Lychein with eyes narrowed in awe.
“You touched the Origin Flame.” she said quietly. “Only three students have ever done that in Achazian’s recorded history.”
Lychein didn’t know what to say.
Behind her, Ceyron muttered, “Okay, yeah. I’m impressed. Doesn’t mean I like it, but—impressed.”
Zharmyst stood a little closer, her voice calm. “You’ve awakened something ancient.”
The other dorms murmured among themselves—fear, respect, awe.
But Lychein wasn’t focused on them.
In her chest, the flame still burned—not hot, but alive.
Not a threat. A promise.
That night, she stood on the highest tower of the Violet Dorm, staring at the stars. Zharmyst joined her, silent at first.
“You’re not just a Violet Dragon.” she said. “You’re something more.”
Lychein turned. “Do you know what that means?”
Zharmyst’s voice was quiet. “I think it means trouble.”
Down in the woods outside the academy walls, a pair of eyes watched them from the dark—eyes not human.
And somewhere far away, an ancient seal broke with a sound like thunder muffled by centuries.