The morning air hung dead still. Not even a bird dared to chirp.
Ares stood by the tall, curved window of Beatrix's room, already dressed in his dark traveling coat. The fancy Eisenklinge family crest glittered softly on his chest like a tiny golden shield. Outside, a black carriage waited beyond the iron gates, looking like a giant beetle ready to swallow him whole. One silent guard in full armor stood beside it, so still he might have been a statue.
Junia shuffled by the doorway, her eyes puffy and red as overripe tomatoes. She kept wiping her nose with her sleeve, making little sniffling sounds that echoed in the quiet room. Beatrix stood near the crackling fireplace, trying to look calm, but her hands shook like leaves in a storm.
"You'll write to us, won't you?" Beatrix asked, her voice as delicate as spun glass.
Ares turned from the window, giving her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "If they let me hold a pen without chopping my fingers off first."
She walked toward him slowly, her silk slippers whispering against the marble floor. Her hands cupped his cheeks, warm and soft, and she pressed her forehead against his. For a moment, they stood there like two dancers frozen in time.
"I know what the Cradle really is," she whispered, her breath tickling his face. "It's not just training, my dear boy. It's a furnace that melts children down and reshapes them into something else entirely."
Ares felt his chest tighten, but he kept his voice steady. "I'm not scared of their fire. They want to forge a weapon? Fine. Let them try. But I'll decide what kind of blade I become." His eyes glinted with something dangerous and determined.
Junia let out a loud sniff that sounded like a dying whale. "You always talk like you're forty years old instead of five. It's creepy."
"Maybe I am forty," Ares muttered under his breath, then flashed her a grin that was all mischief. "Besides, you'll cry me an entire ocean, Junia. And I won't be here to build you a boat."
She smacked his shoulder, but gently, like she was afraid he might break. "That's not funny!" But she was almost smiling through her tears.
The goodbyes came fast after that, like ripping off bandages. Beatrix kissed his forehead with fierce love, her lips warm and trembling. Junia wrapped him in a bear hug that smelled like her favorite lavender soap and salty tears. Her arms squeezed him so tight he could barely breathe.
"Don't forget us," she whispered into his hair.
"Never," he promised.
No one walked him to the gate. He understood why – some journeys you have to start alone.
---
The carriage ride stretched on like a bad dream.
Ares sat on the plush velvet seat, dark as midnight, watching the world blur past through the small windows. His hand rested on his chest where his mana core hummed and pulsed like an extra heartbeat, steady and strong. Outside, the landscape rolled by in waves of green hills, shadowy forests, and sharp mountain peaks that looked like giant teeth trying to bite the sky.
The wheels rumbled over stone and dirt, making a rhythm that almost put him to sleep. Almost. But his mind was too busy spinning with thoughts of what waited ahead.
When the carriage finally groaned to a stop, Ares stepped out onto solid ground – and his jaw dropped like a rock falling off a cliff.
The Cradle.
It wasn't built on top of the mountain. It was carved right into its heart, like some giant had taken a massive knife and carved out a fortress from living stone. Twisted spires of black rock jutted up from the earth like the claws of some buried monster. They surrounded a single massive building made of iron and steel that gleamed dully in the afternoon light.
The air itself felt heavy and thick, buzzing with so much magical energy that Ares could taste it on his tongue – sharp and metallic, like licking a copper coin. The very walls seemed to breathe with power, inhaling and exhaling magic like a sleeping dragon.
Ares stood there gaping like a fish out of water.
"Well, damn," he whispered, forgetting to watch his language. "The story I read never described it like this. This place could swallow a whole city and still be hungry."
The sound of boots clicking on stone echoed across the courtyard like a drumbeat.
She appeared without warning, moving like smoke given form.
Hair black as a moonless night, tied back in a severe knot. Eyes the color of fresh blood, sharp enough to cut glass. She moved with the fluid grace of a hunting cat, every step purposeful and deadly. Even her sword, a thin rapier hanging at her side, looked elegant and dangerous.
"Welcome to the Cradle," she said, and her voice rolled over them like distant thunder. Deep, measured, and absolutely commanding. "You must be Ares."
Ares straightened his spine like a soldier. "Yes, ma'am."
Her blood-red eyes studied him for a long moment, like she was reading a book written on his face. "Follow me."
They entered the keep through doors tall enough for giants. Inside, the stone corridors swallowed light like hungry mouths. The hallways were wider than the main streets back home, lined with flickering torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls. Strange symbols glowed faintly on the floor tiles, humming with magic that made the hair on Ares' arms stand up.
But he wasn't alone in this stone maze.
Three other children stood waiting in the grand entry hall, lined up like little soldiers. Each one exactly five years old, each one carrying themselves with the same sharp-eyed pride that came from noble blood. Purebloods, every single one. Their fancy clothes and perfect posture screamed wealth and power.
Ares glanced at them sideways. One girl had platinum blonde hair so perfect it looked like spun silver. A boy with emerald green eyes stood so straight he might have had a sword for a spine. Another girl kept touching a jeweled pendant at her throat like it was a good luck charm.
Veltrissa turned to face them all, her gaze sweeping over the group like a blade cutting through silk.
"You are the newest initiates of the Cradle," she announced, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "And I am your Warden. You will address me as Matron Veltrissa, or simply Matron. Nothing else. Understood?"
Four small voices chorused: "Yes, Matron."
She nodded once, sharp and satisfied. "Good. We begin with a test. No fighting today – that comes later. Just thinking. Follow me, and try to keep up."
She led them through more twisting corridors into a cold chamber that felt like the inside of a tomb. The room was filled with strange stone tablets covered in glowing runes, floating puzzles that shifted and changed, and crystals that pulsed with different colored lights.
Ares tilted his head, studying the setup. Pattern recognition games, sequence puzzles, mana tracing exercises. Simple stuff – but he could tell they were designed to reveal how each child's mind worked.
"Each of you will complete three tests," Veltrissa explained, gesturing to different stations around the room. "Take your time, but not too much time. I'm watching."
And she was. Those blood-red eyes missed nothing as each child moved from puzzle to puzzle, her face giving away absolutely nothing about what she thought of their performance.
When the last child finished the final test, she nodded once. "As expected. All of you pass the minimum requirements. A few of you show exceptional promise." Her eyes lingered on Ares for just a moment longer than the others.
They walked again, deeper into the fortress.
"The Cradle is divided into four main areas," Veltrissa explained as they moved through corridors that seemed to stretch on forever. "Living Quarters, where you'll sleep and study. Combat Hall, where you'll learn to fight and probably bleed. Discipline Wing, where you'll go when you break the rules – and you will break the rules. And finally, the Shrine Arc, where you'll discover what kind of magic flows in your veins."
She paused at a intersection where four hallways met, each one disappearing into shadows.
"You will be tested every single day. No exceptions, no sick days, no 'my dog ate my homework' excuses. Class Captains are chosen monthly through combat trials – real fights with real consequences. Bullying is not just allowed, it's expected. The strong rise, the weak fall. That's nature."
A few of the children shifted nervously, but Ares just listened, filing away every word.
"Magic lessons are earned, not given," she continued, leading them down another hallway lined with strange artifacts behind glass cases. "Auracore Spheres contain the knowledge you seek, but you must prove worthy to access them. Our merit system controls everything – your rank, your privileges, even what you're allowed to eat for dinner."
They passed beneath a massive archway carved with snarling dragons. Behind them, a gate of black steel slammed shut with a sound like thunder, making several children jump.
"There is no leaving until your final Trial," Veltrissa said without turning around. "No weekend visits home, no letters to mommy when you get scared. Curfew is seven o'clock sharp. When that bell rings, you'd better be in your room, or you'll discover what our punishment cells look like."
The children exchanged worried glances, but nobody dared to speak.
Veltrissa stopped before six huge doors, each one marked with a different symbol that seemed to move and shift when you looked directly at it.
"The elemental shrines," she announced, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Ice, and Lightning. You'll rotate through all of them based on how your mana responds. Don't worry if you don't show affinity for any particular element – every reaction gives us valuable information about your potential."
She led them finally into a long hallway lined with numbered doors, each one identical except for the brass numbers gleaming on the dark wood.
"Your chambers. Two children to a room. You can learn to live together peacefully, or you can establish dominance through conflict. Frankly, I don't care which you choose, as long as you both survive until morning."
Some of the children looked horrified at this casual mention of violence. Ares just nodded thoughtfully.
Veltrissa turned to face them one final time, her blood-red eyes reflecting the torchlight like mirrors.
"Listen carefully, because I'll only say this once," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You are no longer little princes and princesses. You're not daddy's heir or mommy's precious angel. You are Eisenklinge now – and that name means something. This place will either forge you into steel, or it will break you into pieces. The choice is yours."
She paused, letting her words sink in like stones dropped into deep water.
"Welcome to the beginning of your reckoning."
Ares stood perfectly still, his young face calm but his eyes burning with determination. Inside his chest, his mana core pulsed stronger, as if responding to some unspoken challenge.
'Let the furnace begin,' he thought, and for the first time since arriving, he smiled – not the gentle smile he'd given Beatrix, but something sharp and dangerous that belonged on the face of a predator.
The other children might be scared, but Ares felt something different entirely.
He felt ready.