We didn’t get a moment to think. No big talks. No warm welcomes. Just pure, instant fear.
They pushed us from the loud hall onto what they named the Proving Grounds. It wasn’t solid ground. It was a terror trap hanging over a dark, endless pit.
"Welcome to the Gauntlet of Broken Bones," a senior cadet yelled, his voice full of cruel joy. "Cross it or fail. The Commandant doesn’t care to feed extra mouths."
I looked up. On a high stone ledge cut into the cliff, a dark figure stood against the dull sky. Commandant Thorne. Even from far away, his still form screamed cold, hard power. He stared down at us like we were tiny bugs, unmoved as the mess started.
The Gauntlet was a death course of shaky rope bridges, tiny swinging platforms, wet narrow beams, and deadly swinging blades that cut through the path on a steady beat.
And the senior cadets? They were the worst part. Placed in key spots, they pushed, tripped, and cut ropes, making recruits scream as they fell into the dark below.
A boy near me slipped on a slick beam. His hands clawed at nothing but air. His scream stopped fast, eaten by the huge void.
Another recruit froze before the swinging blades. A cadet behind him laughed meanly and shoved hard. The timing was perfect, horribly so. The boy vanished between the sharp steel.
My stomach churned. This wasn’t training. It was a killing field.
My legs shook. I was smaller than most, weaker. I had no skills, no practice. Fear tried to lock me in place, to drag me down like the others.
No. I refused to die here. Not after being torn from my old life.
I made myself breathe, to watch. While others freaked out or tried to power through, I studied. The beat of the blades. The weak spots on the bridges. The places where senior cadets waited to strike.
I ran across the first rope bridge, staying low, hoping my light weight made me less of a target. A blade swung close. I dropped flat, the sharp edge hissing just above my head. My heart pounded hard in my chest.
I crawled forward, hitting a small wooden platform. Ahead, another bridge rocked wildly in the wind.
A girl with scared eyes but a firm jaw caught my gaze for a second. She gave a small, tight nod, almost a wince, before throwing herself at the next challenge. Seraphina Bellweather, her name called out during roll. Her face showed both hunger to win and raw fear.
Then I saw him.
Kade Stormborn moved through the Gauntlet like a living force of nature. Smooth. Dangerous. He didn’t just dodge the traps; he slid past them, every move sharp, controlled, and full of deadly confidence. He took down a growling senior cadet blocking his way with a fast, brutal elbow hit, sending the older boy stumbling back, teetering near the edge.
He was raw power, a mix of grace and threat, like a predator in human skin.
He reached the platform just before mine, split by a short, wobbly plank path. His dark, stormy eyes scanned the course ahead, then flicked to me. That same cold scorn from the hall washed over his face.
As I got ready to cross the plank to his platform, he stepped onto the far end of it. Not hard, just a small shift of his weight. But it was enough.
The plank jerked under my feet. My balance broke. I flailed, arms swinging, a scream ripping from my throat as the deep pit opened below me.
His move was lazy, almost bored. Like flicking away a pesky bug with barely a thought.
He didn’t shove me. He didn’t attack outright. He just... tilted the world to make sure I’d fail.
My fingers scratched at the rough edge of his platform, catching just in time. My body hung over the void, wind howling past my ears, the cries of other falling recruits ringing from below.
Kade looked down at me, his face blank for a split second before turning back to icy disinterest. He didn’t reach out to help. He didn’t mock me.
He just stepped over my desperate, clinging fingers and kept going, leaving me dangling, moments from death, in the Gauntlet of Broken Bones.
