They came for him at midnight.
Three instructors in black robes, hoods pulled low, each carrying silver lanterns that cast no light. Their steps were slow, silent, as if the stone itself dared not echo.
Rael was already awake, sitting on the windowsill.
"Late," he said, stretching. "Was beginning to think I'd been disqualified from mysterious rituals."
Fayden blinked awake from the top bunk. "Wait—where are they taking you?"
"Judgment." Rael gave him a wry smile. "Or maybe a tea party with death. Hard to tell with this school."
Fayden sat upright, alarmed. "Do you need backup? A rescue plan? A distraction involving minor explosions?"
Rael pressed a silence glyph on the door. "Sleep, Fayden. If I return glowing or giggling madly, just kill me."
One instructor opened the door. Rael stepped into the dark.
---
🕯️ Descent
They walked downward. Far beneath the academy.
Down spiral stairs that grew colder with each turn. Past rusted sigil doors and sealed vaults lined with prayer tiles. One door had been broken long ago and still whispered in dead tongues.
Finally, they stopped at a wall of jagged crystal. Veined with black smoke, it pulsed softly.
The lead instructor stepped forward and whispered:
> "Let the Wyrm judge the fire."
The wall cracked, then split apart with a groan of shifting stone.
Rael stared into the gap. "Nothing says 'trust us' like a door opening into pure darkness."
He stepped through.
---
🪞 The Cathedral of Wyrmglass
The air changed instantly.
The space opened into a vast dome of black obsidian — a chamber wide as a coliseum. Every surface reflected distorted versions of Rael. Thousands of him. Younger. Older. Twisted. Burned.
In the center lay a shallow black pool, smooth as glass, rimmed in sigils older than the empire.
Rael stepped closer. The surface shimmered.
A voice, deeper than thunder, echoed:
> "What are you, soul-bearer?"
Rael tilted his head. "Student. Third-class. Likes tea and long walks through forgotten temples."
> "Lie."
"Rael Halewyn."
> "Lie."
"…Rael Solvane."
> "…Truth."
The pool exploded upward. Water became smoke. Smoke became flame. Flame became something huge.
The Wyrm emerged — a creature of molten glass and bone, its body looped infinitely in midair, its eyes burning like fallen stars.
It circled Rael.
Then lunged forward — and swallowed him whole.
Rael's last words before vanishing were:
> "Honestly, I've had worse first dates."
---
🧠 The Trial of Self
Rael fell through nothing — then landed in his own past.
He stood atop the execution pyre again. His wrists were bound. The blade pierced his chest. The fire waited to consume him.
The gods watched from above, cold and silent. Their divine light washed over his burning skin.
Except this time… Rael moved.
He raised a hand and caught the falling blade mid-strike.
The metal hissed and melted in his palm.
He broke his chains like paper.
A god stood up in shock. "This shouldn't be happening—!"
Rael laughed bitterly.
> "You burned me to ash and thought I'd stay dead. I am the ash."
Flames erupted around him — black and red, ghostfire and soulflame. His old body shattered, and from the fire emerged his true self:
Crowned in fire. Veins lit like magma rivers. Eyes filled with fury and clarity.
He screamed one word:
> "INFERAX!"
The Trial cracked.
The memory shattered.
And the Wyrm… reeled.
---
🐉 Return from the Depths
The instructors in the cathedral staggered as the pool surged.
From the boiling smoke, Rael rose.
Alive. Unburned. Transformed.
His boots hissed steam. His new cloak, made of ember-woven silk, draped behind him like living fire. A sigil glowed over his heart — the ancient mark of a Crowned Flamebearer.
One instructor gasped.
"His core was sealed—"
"It's not sealed anymore," another whispered.
Rael opened his eyes slowly. The glow faded, but the power didn't.
He looked down at himself, then flexed a finger.
"…Still intact," he muttered. "And I didn't even throw up. Progress."
The Wyrm's voice thundered once more:
> "Flame accepted. Name confirmed. Trial devoured."
Rael turned to leave.
"Let's never do that again," he muttered to the instructors. "Your monster has a very judgmental digestive system."
---
🌕 The Backlash
As he ascended through the hidden stairs, the entire academy shuddered.
Candles burst.
Books in the archive flew open.
In the heavens above, a divine brazier split.
And on a distant throne of glass and lightning, a goddess stirred.
She rose, her skin glowing gold, her eyes narrowed.
> "The Uncrowned lives."
She turned to her seraphim.
> "Call the Black Choir. The heretic's flame must not rise again."
---
🛏️ Meanwhile, in the Dorm Room…
Fayden jerked awake as the window burst open with a gust of hot wind.
He looked around, confused, then saw Rael standing calmly at the door, smoke trailing behind him.
"…You look like you murdered a volcano."
Rael dropped onto his bunk. "I passed a test."
"Did the test involve being possessed by a mythical hell-snake and catching on fire?"
"…Possibly."
Fayden threw his pillow. "One day, you'll come back from class like a normal student."
Rael rolled over. "Unlikely."
---
🔥 End of Chapter 7