The boat slows.
At first, almost imperceptibly.
Then unmistakably.
The wood groans as the rhythm changes. The waves strike the hull with less force, as if the sea itself understands we've reached the end.
The island emerges through the mist.
Not majestic.
Not inviting.
A jagged mass of dark stone swallowed by dense vegetation. Sheer cliffs along its sides. A narrow strip of beach barely visible beneath the overgrown forest.
Nothing about it invites you ashore.
Around me, no one speaks.
Brask sits across from me, eyes fixed on the horizon. His hands grip his pack straps too tightly.
Kaïros stands apart near the railing, watching the island without expression.
As if he already knows it.
The boat finally halts.
"Disembark!" an Academy officer shouts.
His voice slices through the silence.
We descend in groups. Boots sink into wet sand. The air is thick — heavy with salt, damp soil, and the scent of rotting vegetation.
The forest begins only a few meters away.
Too close.
A professor steps forward.
"Gather."
We obey.
Crates are opened. Supplies distributed with cold efficiency.
One bag per student.
Inside:
— a canteen— a blanket— a knife— two rations— a firestone— a waterproof notebook
Nothing else.
I check twice.
No map.No compass.No potions.
"You have what you need to survive one week," the professor announces.
His tone is neutral. Administrative.
"No outside assistance. No communication. No distress signal."
His gaze passes over us one by one.
"The boat will return in seven days. At dawn. Here."
A pause.
"If you are still alive."
No one laughs.
"The test begins now."
He turns away.
The professors climb back aboard. The ropes are loosened. No hurry. No hesitation.
I step back as the vessel drifts away.
The water closes behind it.
The waves erase our footprints from the sand almost instantly.
We are alone.
Brask exhales slowly.
"That's it. No turning back."
I stare at the forest.
It doesn't move.
But I feel it.
As if the island is already watching.
Elsewhere.
Out at sea.
Elëv stands at the stern of a military vessel.
Wind lashes against his armor. His gaze never leaves the island forming on the horizon.
Too close.
Far too close.
He heard everything.
The counselors.The omissions.The implications.
A suicide mission.
Perfectly disguised.
His jaw tightens.
"They're sending children…" a soldier mutters behind him.
Elëv doesn't respond.
He keeps his eyes on the island.
Then he closes them briefly.
Aydan.
He knows.
He knows his nephew is there.
Somewhere on that land.
His hand rests on the hilt of his weapon.
"We'll be within range tonight," the captain says.
Elëv nods once.
"We do not reveal ourselves," he adds. "Not unless necessary."
The captain studies him.
"And if we encounter students?"
Elëv remains silent for a heartbeat.
"Then we protect them," he says calmly.
"…without them knowing."
The captain asks nothing further.
The ship accelerates.
Ahead, the island draws closer, swallowed by mist.
Elëv knows one thing with certainty:
That land will drink blood.
Back on the island.
Silence returns.
But it isn't the silence of the Academy.
This one is wild.
Unstable.
Students begin to cluster instinctively. Others move away already, hoping isolation means safety.
Brask turns to me.
"We stay together."
It isn't a question.
"Yes."
Kaïros approaches.
"The eastern cliffs are too exposed," he says calmly. "The beach is visible from the sea. Bad positioning."
I study him.
"You've done this before?"
He meets my gaze evenly.
"I've watched people die for less."
Brask swallows.
"Great."
I scan the treeline.
"We move before nightfall."
"Where?" Brask asks.
I point toward a denser section of forest.
"There. Harder to access. Less visible."
Kaïros nods.
"Correct."
We step beneath the canopy.
The light drops instantly.
The trees swallow the sun. The ground is damp and uneven. Roots twist upward like traps waiting to catch careless feet.
Then—
A scream.
Distant.
Sharp.
Brask freezes.
"Tell me that was an animal."
I don't answer.
Because I'm not sure.
We keep moving.
Every rustle feels amplified. Every branch snap makes the heart pound harder. Tension builds slowly, steadily.
This is no simulation.
No supervision.
No safety net.
The test has begun.