Dawn stepped cautiously onto the riverbank, his feet sinking slightly into the damp, fertile earth. The river stretched out before him, wide and languid, its waters dark and slow-moving, reflecting the pale glow of Lunara. The last traces of Solara's golden rays had long disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only the ethereal light of Lunara to paint silver streaks upon the rippling surface. The cool air caressed his damp skin, raising goosebumps on his arms. It felt like the world itself was holding its breath.
He crouched by the edge of the river and cupped a handful of water, splashing it onto his face. The chill of the river bit into his skin, sharp and invigorating, cutting through the layers of grime and exhaustion that had clung to him throughout his journey. He closed his eyes, the coolness an abrupt but welcome shock. For a brief moment, everything else—the endless trek, the road behind him—seemed to fade away. His breath steadied as the fatigue he carried for so long ebbed away, the exhaustion washing off with the dirt.
The water felt alive, as if it held secrets long forgotten, murmurs of ancient things buried beneath its depths. He lingered there for a while, letting the cleansing sensation flow through him, before pushing himself to his feet. The pull of the river seemed to beckon him onward, and without hesitation, he waded in.
As his feet sank into the muddy riverbed, a shiver ran up his spine. The current wasn't strong, but there was a weight to it, a force, as if the river carried something older than the land itself. The cold seeped through his worn feet and up his legs, sending a ripple of discomfort through his body. Yet, there was something oddly comforting about it. He felt grounded, as if this river held the pulse of the land, the pulse of the world itself.
Each step deeper into the water was like stepping through time, each inch drawing him further into something beyond the present moment. The current tugged at him, gentle but unrelenting. His clothes, already sodden from his travel, grew heavier as they soaked through, but it didn't matter. The sensation was cleansing, a purging of the road's dust, and with each step, he felt something unspoken fall away.
With a deep breath, Dawn submerged himself, the river swallowing him whole. The cool water closed over him like a shroud, muffling the sounds of the world above, and for a moment, all that existed was the weight of the current against his body, the rhythmic pull of the river. The sense of isolation in the water was strangely comforting. It was as though the world had ceased to exist, and only he and the river were left.
The current became stronger as he pressed forward, his feet sinking deeper into the smooth riverbed. The water clung to him like a second skin, the weight of it pressing against his chest, but there was a peculiar serenity in it. His muscles burned as he moved against the river's flow, but the challenge only spurred him onward. Every movement, every breath, felt more deliberate, more focused.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the water shallowed, and Dawn broke the surface, gasping for air. His lungs burned, but the clarity in his chest felt almost as if he were born anew. The water streamed from his clothes as he dragged himself onto the far bank, his limbs heavy with the exertion. He lay there for a moment, his breath coming in ragged gasps, staring up at the sky, which had shifted from a deep azure to a charcoal canvas dotted with the distant pinpricks of stars.
When he finally sat up, the sight that greeted him stole his breath away.
In the distance, rising from the landscape like some colossal beast of legend, stood Primordial Academy. Its towering stone walls stretched toward the heavens, their surfaces etched with the marks of time. Cracked and weathered, the walls still stood proud, each stone a silent witness to the centuries. Climbing vines and moss clung to the surface, the green contrast against the grey stones an odd beauty in itself. But it was the gate that drew his eye—massive and imposing, carved with intricate celestial runes, it seemed both a barrier and an invitation.
Beyond the gate, a sense of anticipation radiated from the mass of students clustered in front. Dawn stood still for a long moment, watching the crowd, the voices of hundreds blending into a chorus of excitement, anxiety, and determination. The air was thick with the tension of expectation, as if the very ground trembled in anticipation of the trials that lay ahead.
As he approached, he began to hear snippets of conversation drifting through the air, the voices of students eager to discuss their fate, their fears, their hopes.
"I heard it's going to be a combat exam this year. What if we're pitted against each other? I'm not ready for that!" a boy with dark brown hair muttered, eyes wide with panic.
"Well, if that's the case, we're all going to die," his friend responded with a nervous laugh, trying to mask the unease in his voice. "Do you see the nobles here? They've been training since they could walk."
Dawn's gaze moved past them, briefly resting on a group of students clad in fine robes, their confident postures setting them apart from the others. Nobles, most likely. He could almost feel their disdain for those around them, their whispered comments too quiet to catch, but loud enough in their tone to make it clear they believed they were above everyone else.
"…the commoners have no chance," a girl with sharp features said disdainfully, her gaze sweeping over the students gathered. "They won't even make it past the first trial."
Another noble, a young man with strikingly sun-kissed hair, smiled faintly and said, "Let's see who truly belongs here, then."
Dawn's lips pressed together in a tight line. He could sense the unspoken divide, the invisible barrier between the groups. The nobles clearly believed they had the advantage, that their bloodlines and training set them apart. It was an old story—one he wasn't interested in being a part of. He was here for one reason only: the answers he sought, and he would get them, no matter who stood in his way.
He continued walking, moving past groups of students, all of them nervously discussing the upcoming test, though some seemed more confident than others. A few stood alone, deep in thought, perhaps preparing themselves for the trials ahead. He noticed a girl standing near the edge of the crowd, her silver-tinged robes glimmering faintly in the moonlight. Her eyes were fixed ahead, distant, as if she wasn't part of the scene at all. She was an enigma—serene, poised, but so detached from the chatter and noise around her.
His gaze moved across the crowd once more, and then it landed on another figure—a young man standing apart from the rest. He didn't exude the same arrogance as the nobles, nor did he carry the aura of someone eager to prove himself. Instead, he was still, his expression thoughtful, almost as though he were trying to comprehend something unseen by others.
Dawn paused, a soft exhale escaping his lips. He wasn't a part of any group, nor did he intend to be. He had no noble blood, no secret lineage, and no high expectations placed on him by others. He had only his goal—the truth he sought. And as the gate of the Primordial Academy loomed closer, the whispers of the crowd growing louder, he felt a sense of resolve settle within him.
It was time to begin. Time to step into the unknown and face the trials that awaited.