The open grounds were quiet except for the faint rustle of the cold morning wind brushing against the recruits' uniforms. Garrenya stood on the podium, her hands folded behind her back, scanning each of the remaining recruits with a measured gaze. The silence seemed to stretch, pressing against our ears and hearts alike, until she finally spoke.
"Yesterday was not just a trial of skill or strength," she began, her voice calm but carrying weight across the field. "It was a trial of mind and soul. Every recruit who takes their first life learns a lesson no training can replicate. In Arkael, hesitation can mean death not just for yourself, but for those who depend on you."
Her eyes swept over us, sharp as blades, and I could feel her words pierce deeper than any arrow or blade we had faced.
"To experience your first kill is necessary. It shows the truth of this world: that death is absolute, that your ember can be extinguished, and that the corruption does not wait for mercy. It is not about enjoying the act, nor embracing bloodlust. It is about recognizing that sometimes the world demands actions we are not prepared for in ordinary life. And only those who can face it, even with trembling hands, can survive Arkael's trials."
She paused, letting her words settle over us. I could hear the faint shifts of others, breaths catching, eyes lowering.
"For those who cannot bear it, who cannot let go of the blood they spilled, it is better to release them now. To force them forward would only lead to their ruin, or worse, the ruin of others. Arkael does not forgive hesitation, and neither will the veil. Those who survive yesterday, those who endured the first blood, are the ones who can move forward. The rest… must be spared from themselves."
Her gaze softened slightly, though it remained firm. "This is why yesterday was necessary. Every strike you delivered, every struggle you endured, was not cruelty. It was preparation. And now, those who are left, those who still stand, you will carry this lesson into Arkael itself."
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words settle onto my shoulders like a physical burden. The morning light glinted off the podium, and for the first time, the field seemed to echo not with the wind but with the gravity of what awaited us.
The field was quiet for a few long seconds after Garrenya's words, as if the wind itself was hesitant to disturb the weight of the message. Slowly, a murmur rose among the recruits, soft but unmistakable. Some lowered their gazes, gripping their weapons tightly, as if holding onto them for courage. Others shifted nervously on their feet, the tension in their shoulders betraying the dread that ran through them.
I could feel it too, the lingering echo of yesterday's trial still clinging to my chest. My hands itched to wipe at the blood that wasn't even there, to scrub away the memory of the struggle. My stomach churned at the thought, and I realized how fragile we all were, standing on the edge of the same abyss.
A few recruits stared at each other, eyes wide with panic. One girl in the corner pressed her palms together tightly, her knuckles white, and muttered something under her breath. Another boy ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily as if trying to expel yesterday's nightmare from his lungs.
Some faces showed anger, sharp and bitter, almost like denial. One recruit even kicked at the dirt, a harsh clattering sound that echoed across the open grounds. His frustration was raw, but beneath it, I could sense fear.
Others remained silent, frozen in place, their bodies taut with restraint. I noticed the subtle trembling in their hands as they held their swords, some of them unwilling to look at the podium, unwilling to meet Garrenya's gaze. The weight of yesterday's blood had not left them, and it would not leave us easily.
I swallowed hard, feeling my own pulse thundering in my ears. A part of me wanted to run, to hide in the barracks, to pretend this morning never existed. Another part told me to stand tall, to meet the day and what awaited with every ounce of the grit Aunt Jeya had drilled into me.
For some recruits, this lesson had already passed them by. Their first kill had left scars they could not bear. For others, like me, the memory was sharp but not yet consuming. It was a dangerous balance, the line between survival and despair.
The silence returned, heavy and suffocating, as Garrenya's gaze swept over the gathered group again. It was a reminder: Arkael would not wait for our courage to catch up. Those who faltered now would falter there.
And we all knew it.
Mercy was our only savior.
"We all know the time when the veil would open is nearing, and that is why you stand here today," Garrenya announced, her voice carrying across the thinning crowd.
"It may be unpleasant, but remember this. Every one of you is part of the only force capable of stopping whatever lies within the veil and seeks to influence our world."
She paused, letting the cold morning air settle over us like a warning.
"I would be lying if I said that the life of a riftborn is simple. You will not simply go in, extract what is needed, and return home untouched. Death will be your closest companion. You may die and rise again, but do not mistake this for immortality. Once your corruption takes hold, you are no longer one of us and will be exterminated. That is the truth of your life."
Her eyes drifted across the group, measuring each trembling face.
"Your duty is to uncover the truths buried in Arkael, to preserve what knowledge you can, and to eradicate the evils that fester there. Some of you may pray to different deities, but hear me well. No prayer will protect you if you provoke the demigods of Arkael. Not your gods, not your faith, not even your own ember. And should you cross paths with the dragons, no amount of devotion will save you."
A hush fell over the recruits. The weight of her words pressed into us like a second skin, a reminder that the path we chose had no softness waiting at the end.
"There will be moments when your very soul feels crushed to dust, but endure it. As riftborn, all of you were created to confront the veil. If it breaks, you mend it. If your mind becomes twisted by delusion, then bleed yourself back into reality. When corruption claws at you, fight it with everything you have."
She lifted her chin, her golden eyes sharp with something like pride and warning intertwined.
"As riftborn, your path will never be a road of vibrant rainbows or gentle sunlight. It is also not the endless abyss waiting to swallow you whole. Instead, you walk the threshold between the two, and that threshold is where the true horrors and the true miracles reside."
"You will face hell itself. Perhaps the heavens will grant you luck, perhaps not."
A murmur rippled through the recruits, a mix of fear and anticipation.
"Understand this. You will meet the inhabitants of Arkael, and not all of them will tolerate your existence. Some will stalk you for sport. Some will tear at your sanity for pleasure. Others would gladly take your head and use your soul as garnish."
Silence spread across the grounds, thick and unmoving, as if even the wind refused to interrupt what she was saying.
"Now, all of you are equipped with swords. This is only your starting equipment. When you enter Arkael, your ember will form a personalized weapon tailored to you."
I glance down at my shortsword, smaller and lighter than the ones some of the other recruits hold. No wonder it feels almost too modest.
"Your first journey will last for three to four months, depending on how well you gather strength and grow," Garrenya continued, her voice steady and commanding.
"Remember, find the exit gate and you may leave. But be cautious. We have records of beings who guard the gates. They are not friendly, and not all will show mercy. Stay alert."
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I imagined what awaited us, and I gripped my sword a little tighter.
"This is the end of the briefing and orientation. For the rest of at least the week, all of you will undergo training, so be ready."
"Dismiss."
The words echoed through the open grounds, but for me, they felt heavier than usual. Around me, recruits began to shuffle, some whispering nervously to one another, others stretching their limbs as if shaking off invisible chains. I stayed still for a moment, letting the weight of Garrenya's words sink in.
Three to four months inside Arkael. Facing unknown horrors. Confronting creatures that could tear you apart without a second thought. And all of it would begin with my ember, my own weapon, my own life tied to a destiny I was only beginning to glimpse.
I flexed my fingers around the hilt of my shortsword, feeling the familiar chill of the metal bite into my palm. This was only the start. And somehow, I knew the real trials were just beyond the horizon.