"The trials… begin now."
Archmagister Or Gramdmaster Calwen's voice boomed like thunder beneath a still sky. The air vibrated with his words, heavy with ancient magic. Before the gathered candidates, the great hall shimmered and folded upon itself — reality peeling back like a stage curtain.
From the polished marble walls, doorways emerged: some glowing with soft blue light, others crackling with sparks or trailing frost. Each pulsed with a different essence — fire, wind, mirrorlight, snow. They weren't doors in the traditional sense, but gateways carved from magic itself, each one alive and waiting.
Ymir's eyes traced the snowy door at the far end, a cold wind already seeping through the arch. Her breath fogged the air. She stepped forward as the crowd murmured behind her.
A hush fell as the participants began entering one by one. When Ymir passed through her doorway, the world turned white.
She emerged beneath towering firs laden with snow, the air sharp and silent. The forest stretched in every direction, a labyrinth of dark trees and icy trails. Wind whispered between the branches. Frost crunched beneath her boots.
The door behind her snapped shut with a metallic clang and vanished into the bark of an ancient pine.
"Whoa," someone muttered nearby.
Around her stood roughly two dozen other participants — all young witches, warlocks, or mages in training — scattered in groups of three or four. Some looked prepared, gripping their staffs and wands with steady hands. Others glanced about nervously, unsure of which direction to go.
A shimmering scroll unfurled in the air in front of each of them, suspended midair. A glowing path wound through the image — narrow trails, markers of danger, a red X at the far edge marked The Atrium
Ymir leaned closer to her map.
"That's a long walk," she muttered.
"Longer if you stop to chat," said a voice on her shoulder.
She turned to find a boy with shaggy green hair and sharp eyes — Florence. His mouth curved in a half-smile, but his wand hand rested loosely at his side, ready.
"Stick with me. These forests aren't just cold — they bite."
She nodded, tucking the map away. "Let's move."
The first few minutes of travel were quiet. Snow muffled their steps. The cold gnawed at her fingers, but the magic in her blood kept the worst of it at bay. Around them, the trees grew denser. Strange markings pulsed faintly along the trunks — wards, or perhaps warnings.
Then came the growl.
Low. Resonant. Like stones grinding in a great maw.
Ymir stopped.
From the shadows, a hulking shape emerged. Then another. And another.
Winter bears.
Huge, muscled, and covered in snow-encrusted fur, their breath puffed in clouds, and their glowing eyes locked onto the group like predators selecting prey. There were at least a dozen of them, moving in a wide crescent to surround the candidates.
Chaos broke loose.
"Scatter!" someone shouted.
"Don't panic—!"
Too late.
One of the participants, a lean brunette witch, leapt forward with her wand raised. "Ajula blur!" A gale-force wind burst from her spell, flinging snow into the air and pushing back two bears.
She sprinted, trying to break away — but a massive paw lashed through the wind and slashed her leg mid-run.
"Ahhh!" she screamed, tumbling into the snow, blood streaking across white.
The bear stalked toward her.
"No—!" Ymir raced forward.
"Sana Eltrix!" she cast, a warm blue glow surging from her wand as she pressed it against the witch's leg. The skin knitted together rapidly, the bleeding halted.
"You're alright now," Ymir said, panting.
The girl blinked up at her in disbelief. "I—I owe you."
"No time for that. Get up!"
Spells fired in every direction. Bolts of flame and ice collided with fur and fang. The bears were ferocious, but the candidates held their ground. One conjured roots to entangle a beast; another shot a blinding light spell that left three bears momentarily stunned.
Florence shouted, "Keep your distance! They can't break through wide-spread magic!"
One by one, the participants pushed the beasts back.
But then — the forest quieted.
Even the wounded bears pulled away, retreating behind the trees.
From the gloom stepped a single figure — larger than the rest, its footfalls shaking the earth.
The alpha.
Nearly twenty feet tall, with silver-crusted fur like armor and glowing runes burned into its hide, the creature let out a roar so powerful it shattered nearby icicles into dust. Its eyes pulsed with unnatural intelligence — as if something more than a bear stared through them.
Everyone froze.
The sheer presence of it pressed down on their shoulders. Ymir's stomach knotted. She felt its mana — dark, twisted, ancient.
Florence muttered, "That's no ordinary summon."
Someone screamed and tried to run — only to be swatted by the beast's paw, sent crashing into a snowbank.
Florence stepped forward, trying to mask the tremble in his fingers.
"Hena Esters Deza!"
A shimmering prison of golden energy erupted around the alpha — tall spires of magic closing in like a cage.
"That should hold it," he said, exhaling.
Crack.
Crack.
Boom.
The prison shattered like brittle glass as the beast roared again, unscathed.
Florence stumbled backward.
The alpha lunged.
Time slowed.
Ymir's instincts kicked in.
She leapt between them.
"Estora Diabla!"
From her wand, a volley of glowing mana spears erupted — swift and sharp, blue light streaking through the air. They struck the alpha across its chest and forelegs, leaving trails of light in the snow.
The beast reeled back with a grunt.
It turned its eyes to her.
For a moment, all was still. Her breath steamed in front of her. Her heart thundered.
She stared at it down.
"Hey, beast," Ymir said, raising her wand again, fire in her eyes.
"You want a piece of me?"