<b>[Scene Loading...]</b>


    <b>


    [Location: Leoncrest Castle - Tower 12]</b>


    <b>


    [Date: January 27, y. 486 of the Fourth Age]</b>


    The days following Zeke'' completing the Third Trial were busy. His reputation started spreading and suddenly everyone wanted some of his time.


    Students who''d previously ignored him now greeted him in hallways. Professors who''d barely acknowledged his existence now nodded respectfully when he entered their classrooms.


    "De''Godfrey! Hey, de''Godfrey!" A group of first-years flagged him down as he crossed the main courtyard. "Is it true you unraveled four miles of wire in ten minutes?"


    "Well, I didn''t count the minutes myself," Zeke replied with a grin, "but that''s what they tell me."


    "How''d you do it?" one asked, eyes wide with admiration.


    "Practice," Zeke said simply. "And maybe a little motivation from whoever planted that explosive."


    He continued on his way, leaving them buzzing with excitement. The attention was strange—not unwelcome exactly, but definitely unfamiliar.


    Back home, he''d always been "Artax''s little brother." Here, for the first time, people were seeing him for his own accomplishments.


    During lunch that day, three different upperclassmen invited him to join their training groups. Two noble students tried to casually mention how their families had "always respected House Godfrey" (a blatant lie in at least one case).


    Even Diocletian seemed to be avoiding direct confrontation, settling for glaring from across rooms.


    Ralph was loving every minute of it. "You''re practically a celebrity now," he declared as they left the dining hall. "And that makes me a celebrity''s roommate, which is almost as good."


    Zeke laughed. "Enjoy it while it lasts. They''ll find something new to talk about soon enough."


    "Maybe," Ralph conceded, "but you''ve definitely changed how people see you. Nobody thinks you''re just some lucky punk anymore."


    Zeke knew Ralph was right. The barriers were breaking down. He was no longer seen as just the wimpy kid who had barged his way into the academy.


    That said, he could tell that most people approaching him were just angling for power. They saw him as someone who could wield influence, and wanted to attach themselves to his rising star.


    He didn''t confirm or deny anyone''s hopes, instead navigating the sudden attention with a friendly but noncommittal attitude. Let them wonder.


    It was safer that way, especially with someone still trying to kill him.


    By the third day, the frenzy had begun to die down, and Zeke found himself re-entering a more normal routine. As he finished up his Swordsmanship class, he strode back into the main Academy building and paused, realizing he now had a giant, gaping hole in the middle of his day where his extra Aura training had been.


    Professor Harold had declared his specialized training complete—at least until they identified whoever had tried to poison him. "No point teaching you more tricks if someone''s just going to stab you in your sleep," he''d said bluntly.


    Zeke rolled his shoulders, enjoying the rare feeling of having nowhere urgent to be. "Now what?" he muttered to himself.


    His freedom was short-lived. There was still one matter he needed to address.


    He desperately wanted to go in any direction other than the one he chose, but he still made himself climb the long stairs to the office of Headmistress Florence. Outside her door, he paused for a long moment before knocking and slowly stepping inside.


    "De''Godfrey," she nodded as he walked in. "I was hoping you would come up. Please, take a seat."


    It was the most cordial she had ever spoken to him. Zeke blinked in surprise, then quickly walked over and sat down.


    She folded her hands and pushed aside whatever she had been working on.


    "I can only assume you have questions regarding the attempt on your life."


    "Many," Zeke nodded. "I''ve not really wanted to bother you, but—"


    "No, no, you''re good," the Headmistress sighed. "It''s no secret that I don''t want you here. There are many reasons for that fact, and I won''t mince words about it.


    Our houses are at odds with one another, and I am under great pressure to make you fail. That said, I do not wish you dead. When I took this office, I took an oath to defend this institution, and I hope you know I will abide by that.


    You will have nothing easy from me, but neither will you have death."


    Zeke studied her face, noting the sincerity behind her usual stern expression. He crossed his arms and nodded.


    It wasn''t exactly what he wanted to hear from her, but it was something he could work with.


    "Thank you. What have you discovered so far?"


    "Thankfully, all of us who received the letters are good record-keepers," she replied, taking a folder from her desk drawer. "We retrieved the notes we were sent and compared them. They were all written by the same person, that much is obvious."


    She spread three letters on her desk—each on official Academy parchment, each bearing a different signature but clearly written in the same hand.


    "Professor Sebastian de''Byron, our handwriting expert, examined them," she continued. "He determined that these were written using a specific technique designed to disguise the writer''s hand, making identification much harder.


    However, Sebastian maintains handwriting samples from everyone at the Academy and is conducting a thorough analysis to determine potential suspects."


    "How long will that take?" Zeke asked.


    "Difficult to say. The technique used is quite sophisticated," she replied, tapping one of the letters. "Whoever did this has training—either in forgery specifically or in intelligence work."


    "A spy?" Zeke raised his eyebrows.


    "Perhaps," the Headmistress said, her expression unreadable. "Or simply someone with access to knowledge they shouldn''t have. Either way, we will get to the bottom of it."


    "Thank you," Zeke nodded. "Any theories on why someone would want me dead?"


    The Headmistress let out a short, humorless laugh. "If you truly need an answer to that question, you''re just as stupid as everyone thought when you first arrived.


    There are few people in this realm who wouldn''t benefit from your death. The real question is why they would make a spectacle of it instead of simply stabbing you in the middle of the night."


    Zeke leaned forward, intrigued. "And do you have an answer to that question?"


    "I have theories, but no certainties," she replied, closing the folder. "Public failure would humiliate House Godfrey more thoroughly than a private death.


    Perhaps someone wants to make an example of you. Or perhaps there are political advantages to having your death witnessed during an official Trial."


    "The Senate," Zeke guessed.


    "Possibly. Though not all your enemies sit on the Senate," she replied. "I do, however, wish you to know we are working diligently on this matter."


    Zeke nodded, appreciating her candor despite her opposition to him. "The reason I came here was actually to ask about the next Trial. When can I expect it?"


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The Headmistress''s expression tightened. "For the time being, the Trials will have to be set aside. If an attempt was made on your life during this Trial, it will certainly come again at the next one.


    Give us time to catch whoever did this, or at least put some fear into them. Then, once we have done so, we will set a date for the Fourth Trial."


    Zeke''s eyes narrowed as he sat up straighter. "You know what I think? I think you''re using this as an excuse. You admitted you want to make things harder for me.


    You want to make the Trials take as long as possible."


    The barest hint of a smile appeared on Headmistress Florence''s lips. "If that''s the case, I wouldn''t advise complaining about my decision. It will only make me wish to take even longer."


    "Fair enough," Zeke acknowledged, recognizing the futility of pushing further. He started to rise, then paused. "What is the Trial, if I can ask? So I can start to prepare."


    Her smile returned, slightly wider this time. They both knew the point of his question—if Zeke knew about the Trial in advance, he would have more time to prepare, and delaying it would only help him get ready.


    "The mountains visible from the Academy''s east tower? They''re known as the Mountains of Bones. The tallest peak, Dragonpeak, has long been a training ground for students here.


    You will be draped with chains and must run a predetermined route within a certain time limit."


    Zeke raised an eyebrow. "Chains?"


    "Chains," she confirmed with a nod. "Now, off with you. Our business here is concluded."


    Zeke thanked her and slipped out of the room, his mind already turning toward the upcoming Trial as he descended the tower stairs. A mountain run with chains?


    It sounded brutal, but at least now he had time to prepare.


    Victoria instantly came to mind as someone who could help him train, but he knew she was busy that afternoon with dueling practice. Instead, he found himself wandering toward the library, hoping to find information about Dragonpeak.


    When he slipped through the heavy oak doors, Elise looked up from a table nearby and waved.


    "Hey, Zeke! The conquering hero returns!" she called, earning a stern "Shh!" from a nearby student.


    "Hey," he replied more quietly, sliding into a chair across from her. "What are you working on?"


    "Just research for my history class," she answered, pushing a leather-bound book across the table. He picked it up and glanced at the cover, finding it was an in-depth analysis of the rise and fall of some obscure noble family he''d never heard of.


    "House Lorcast?" he read, suddenly remembering the severed head in the Headmistress''s office. "Didn''t they..."


    "Get completely wiped out over a poisoning attempt? Yes," Elise nodded. "Supposedly there''s a lesson about political maneuvering in there somewhere."


    Zeke frowned and pushed the book back across the table. "Sounds cheerful."


    "What brings you down here?" she asked. "I know you don''t have training anymore. Seems like a boring place if you don''t need to be here."


    "I''m trying to learn about the Mountains of Bones," Zeke explained. "The Fourth Trial will be a run through them wearing chains, and I want to know what I''m up against."


    "Chains? That sounds awful," Elise grimaced.


    "I was going to try to find maps, information about the terrain—anything that could help me prepare."


    "I''m afraid such information is highly restricted," Adrian''s voice came from behind a nearby bookshelf before the elderly librarian emerged, carrying a stack of tomes.


    "The path changes every time someone attempts it. The entire layout of Dragonpeak is kept secret so we can create the most realistic training scenarios."


    He walked on without further comment, and Zeke frowned. "Great. Well, I guess I''ll just start general training. Go for runs around the Academy grounds or something."


    "You should ask Ingrid," Elise suggested. "I think she''s busy this afternoon, but she''s mentioned how being a mercenary often requires traveling through rough terrain. She might have tips for mountain climbing."


    "Good idea," Zeke nodded, making a mental note to track down Ingrid the next day. "Still doesn''t leave me with anything to do now. What do people normally do with free time around here?"


    Elise laughed. "There''s a lot you can do if you''re willing. For example, you could study for your classes."


    "Nah. Sounds boring," Zeke grinned. Then a thought struck him. "Speaking of studying, did you ever learn anything about that prophecy thing? You know, the one Adrian mentioned?"


    Elise''s eyes went wide, and she glanced over at Adrian, who was busily shelving books about twenty feet away. She gave a small nod, then scribbled something on a scrap of paper and pushed it across the table.


    "Meet me at my room in two hours. Now let me study!"


    Zeke rolled his eyes but nodded and stood up. "Thanks for all the help," he said loudly for Adrian''s benefit, then headed out.


    The two hours passed surprisingly quickly. Ralph convinced him to join a paper football tournament that had spontaneously formed in the mess hall, and Zeke managed to advance to the semifinals before getting knocked out by a fourth-year with suspiciously good aim.


    "You were robbed," Ralph insisted as they left. "That last shot definitely went wide."


    "I''ll recover somehow," Zeke laughed. "Listen, I''ve got to meet Elise about something. Want to grab dinner later?"


    "Can''t," Ralph shook his head. "My aunt wants me to help her inventory some new weapons that arrived for the forge. Probably take all evening."


    They parted ways, and Zeke made his way to the east wing of the castle where the female students'' dormitories were located. He knocked on Elise''s door, which opened almost immediately.


    "Get in here," she said, quickly pulling him inside and checking the hallway before shutting the door.


    Her room was smaller than the one he shared with Ralph, but considerably neater. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and small magical artifacts.


    A few potted plants sat on the windowsill, their leaves gently swaying despite the lack of breeze.


    Elise plopped down on her bed while Zeke sat in her desk chair. "Alright, so here''s what you told me Adrian said," she began, clearing her throat. "''The eight will rise... The ground will quake... The court will... Fly, fly, from death.''"


    "Right," Zeke confirmed.


    "Well..." Elise pulled out a notebook and flipped through several pages covered in her neat handwriting. "I found something that I think matches.


    The wording is slightly different, but that could be a different translation, or just something you misheard."


    She cleared her throat again. "''The eight will rise from darkened lair, the world trembles everywhere, the Court will speak with foulest breath, if ye still breathe, then fly from death.''"


    "Yeah, that sounds right," Zeke nodded, a chill running down his spine. "What''s the context?"


    "It comes from about six hundred years ago," Elise explained, referencing her notes. "The Academy already existed then, and the world wasn''t that different from today, except most noble houses were different."


    She turned a page in her notebook. "There was this wanderer—a former noble who had renounced his house. Some thought he was crazy, others called him a prophet.


    What we do know is that he successfully predicted several attacks against the kingdom''s borders and led defenses against them. He united peasants and nobles, convinced the aristocracy to treat commoners better—that sort of thing."


    "Do the records say if he was actually a prophet?" Zeke asked.


    "They don''t make a clear judgment," Elise replied. "But they do state that without his influence, the kingdom would have collapsed multiple times during that period."


    "And what about these ''eight'' mentioned in the prophecy?" Zeke pressed.


    "That''s where it gets interesting," Elise said, leaning forward. "At the time, the Eight Dragons of Calamity were starting to wake, causing legions of lesser beasts to become agitated and attack settlements."


    "Like the dragon that injured Artax," Zeke realized.


    "Exactly. The records believe this wanderer somehow drove them back, though they don''t specify how.


    What we do know is that on his deathbed, he related this prophecy. Most scholars interpret it as foretelling another rise of the Eight Dragons, with ''the Court'' referring to some group that will work with the dragons."


    Zeke crossed his arms, thinking. "So when Adrian mentioned that prophecy, he was suggesting the Dragons are waking again? But Artax already fought one that was awake, so—"


    "That''s not exactly what it means," Elise interrupted. "Dragons aren''t like normal creatures. Their power ebbs and flows.


    When they grow stronger, people call it ''waking,'' and when they weaken, it''s called ''sleeping.'' It doesn''t necessarily relate to their actual physical state."


    "So a ''sleeping'' dragon could still be actively causing trouble?" Zeke asked.


    "Exactly," Elise nodded. "Just not at full strength."


    "And if all eight reach full strength at once..." Zeke trailed off, the implications sinking in.


    "It would be catastrophic," Elise finished. "But the prophecy has been referenced for six hundred years. Every time dragon activity increases, people wonder if it''s happening, then things quiet down again."


    She closed her notebook. "What I''m saying is, don''t get too worked up about it. Either the prophecy is finally coming true, in which case there''s not much you can do right now except stay on your path, or it''s another false alarm.


    Someone actively trying to kill you is the more immediate concern."


    "That''s fair," Zeke acknowledged. "Still, what do you think this ''Court'' is? Could it be connected to whoever tried to sabotage my Trial?"


    Elise bit her lip. "I found a few references to something called ''The Court of Owls'' in later texts—a secret society that supposedly formed to monitor dragon activity.


    Some sources suggest they eventually became corrupted, believing the dragons should rule rather than be contained."


    "A dragon-worshiping cult," Zeke mused. "That would explain the sophistication of the attack. An organized group rather than a single enemy."


    "But it''s mostly rumor and speculation," Elise cautioned. "There''s no proof this Court still exists, if it ever did."


    Zeke stood up and paced the small room. "Still, it fits. The forged letters, the enchanted explosive—that takes resources and planning.


    And why target me specifically? House Godfrey has a history of fighting dragons."


    "Including your brother," Elise pointed out. "Who nearly killed one, even at the cost of his aura core."


    Zeke stopped pacing, a troubling thought forming. "What if Artax wasn''t just unlucky? What if he was deliberately sent to face that dragon, expected to die?"


    "That''s a big leap," Elise said, though her expression showed she was considering it.


    "Maybe," Zeke conceded. "But I can''t ignore the possibility that whatever''s happening to me now might be connected to what happened to him."


    He sat back down, collecting his thoughts. "Thanks for researching this. It gives me something to think about."


    "Anytime," Elise smiled. "Want to come to board game night tomorrow? A few of us are getting together in the common room."


    "Count me in," Zeke nodded, grateful for the change to a lighter topic. "I could use some fun after all this doom and gloom."


    As he reached the door, he paused. "One more thing—any idea who might know more about mountain climbing? I should start preparing for the Trial, even without knowing the exact route."


    "Try Victoria first," Elise suggested. "Her family''s estate is in the highlands, so she probably grew up climbing. And if she can''t help, I know there''s a Wilderness Club that meets on Tuesdays."


    "Perfect," Zeke said. "See you tomorrow, then."


    <b>[Scene Close]</b>


    <b>[Earned Emblems:]


    Heart of the Warrior, Endurance, Cunning</b>


    <b>[Active Quests:]</b>


    <b>


    [Window to the Future: Investigate the prophecy]


    [Mountain Challenge: Prepare for the Chain Run]</b>