The medallio heavier in Erik’s hand than it had the day before, its dark runes more ominous in the pale light of dawn. Frail-looking, with pale skin and dark circles under his eyes, he stood by the window of his small one-room , trying to gather himself.

  As he fastehe medallion around his neck, a chill ran down his spi its uli. He forced himself to ig. He didn’t have time for this. Not today.

  Because today, on the first day of spring, all eighteen-year-olds across the world of Nelum faced the same question: Would their Awakening Ritual be their salvation—or damnation?

  And his time had arrived. He was among those who would be undergoing this rite of passage. It allowed most people to Awaken a Talent, and wield extraordinary powers.

  Still, he hesitated. His fingers brushed over the intricate ruched into the dark metal. The medallion was the only keepsake he had from his parents, ae its eerie engravings—a humaon fnked by a vulture—he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind. A piece of his past he could still hold onto.

  But tely, it had begun to feel like more than a simple memento.

  Over the past eight nights, since his birthday, Erik had been pgued by nightmares. In his dreams, he became a bird flying among an endless flock, only to be swallowed by an o of feathers and beaks. No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape. Last night’s nightmare had been particurly vivid, its lingering presence ging to his mind like a meal with a bitter aftertaste.

  His gaze shifted to the two dolls, woven from sticks and dry grass, sitting on the windowsill—simple creations he had made to remember his parents.

  “One day… I will make you proud,” he whispered to them, what had turned into a m ritual. “I’ll join the Ulednar, just like you.” His voice carried a quiet but unwavering vi.

  He gowards the small ro his nightstand. It had a rune on its surface that was slowly morphing into another one and glowing a vender color, telling him the time of day.

  “Not again, damn it!” Erik hissed, realizing he had spaced out for too long due to his ck of sleep and was now runnihe ritual would soon be underway. Missing it wasn’t just forbidden—it unishable by death.

  He quickly dashed out of the front door.

  His house ositio the edge of the small city, the closest oo the graveyard, which was why it was so cheap. And since he worked there, it was ve for him as well. But unfortunately, his destination, the expluild, was all the way oher side of Skulheim.

  Erik delved through its cobblestoreets, which twisted like serpents, their edges lined with wooden houses etched with intricate carvings of animals and mysterious symbols.

  The m was in full swing, and as it ecial ohe city-folk usually started their day earlier than normal. But thankfully, the roads on his path were still sparse and nobody was getting in his way.

  Posters were the only thing distrag him. They were a warning to the young men and women that they must absolutely uake the ritual or face dire sequehey loomed over him, stark and unfiving.

  Failure meant more thah—it meant shame, obscurity, and the end of everything he’d hoped for.

  Sweating and huffing, Erik was just crossing one of the les over the shallow river, that cut across the city, when he heard the heavy thudding of hooves behind him. He turo see a group of riders approag at a brisk pace, each of their gazes fixed straight ahead.

  At their ter rode a young man, most likely a noble, around Erik's age. Cloaked in pristine blue and white furs with a silver spear strapped to his back. It matched his silver-white hair that was ly tied back. His posture right and unwavering. And every rider around him matched his iy, their expressions alert and their focus unbroken.

  As they drew closer, Erik edged to the side of the bridge to make room, thinking they would adjust their formation to avoid him. The noble’s gaze remained locked forward, his horse tinuing in a direct lihout a single gn Erik's dire.

  “Clear the way!” bellowed the captain at the noble’s side, his voice slig through the crisp m air.

  Erik scrambled further back, but the narrow spad ck of a parapet betrayed him. With a startled yelp, his foot slipped, and he plunged into the river below. The shallow drop barely softehe impact. The icy water tore the breath from his lungs, and pain shot up his side as he struck the riverbed.

  He spshed around as the biting chill of the water and the pain shocked him awake, washing away his fatigue.

  Slightly dazed, he saw that above him the riders tihout slowing, their silhouettes framed against the m light. The noble cast a brief gnce over his shoulder at his guards, his eyes sharp and assessing, as if cheg that there was no further disruption to their progress. He then turned back, and the group rode on with practiced precision.

  Erik observed them with barely cealed venom in his eyes. The blue crest with a snow fox that they bore reminding him of their status.

  One day... they wouldn’t dare look past me. I’ll be the ohey clear the way for. He swore to himself.

  The riders seemed to be heading in the dire of the guild, which reminding him that he had to go as well. He quickly crossed the dozeo the shore, but just as Erik was about to rush off after them, he stopped in his tracks.

  What the…? Wide-eyed, he was rooted on the spot.

  The stench of death and decay filled his nostrils, making his hair stand on end.

  He also felt that something was heating up around his chest, but he couldn't look away from what was in front of him.

  There was a rge, old tree t over the surrounding houses and amidst its branches was a bird akin to a vulture with feathers as dark as midnight, as if swallowing the light around it. Its bck eyes somehow gave off a dark glow. The tree and bird appeared ethereal, shrouded in a thin, dark mist, as if caught between worlds.

  The feathered creature observed the riders as they sped down the road.

  Where did they e from? He hadn’t noticed them before. It's as if they had appeared iween the blinks of his eyes.

  Was he dreaming again? This vulture was the same one from his nightmares and the one engraved on his medallion. But this felt too real.

  What if he wasn’t dreaming? For a moment, he thought the security of the city had failed and monsters had mao get inside. But that had never happened before, and there were no arms sounded.

  The vulture’s gaze shifted, peering directly into Erik’s eyes. His vision blurred, and just before he passed out, a seemingly random thought crossed his mind:Why is my medallion so hot?

  ***

  In a haze, a vision unfolded before him of a vast, endless swarm of shapeless birds, their wings beating in eerie harmony against a night sky filled with stars. They moved slowly in a massive circle spiraling down into a dev abyss. But amidst the torrent of wings, ohat looked like a vulture broke from the spiral, defying the pull.

  It turned, rising toward the distant stars, only to be hemmed in by the others, their mass blog its flight.

  The bck wings blurred together, a storm of shadows blotting out the stars. Uerred, the vulture fought—feathers torn, talons sshing, beak striking—slowly pushing through the press of bck wings, a battle that stretched on as if time itself had slowed.

  Finally, it emerged, and with a croak sharp as thunder, it cried out to the sky triumphantly. And the stars above pulsed faintly, as if distant beas of hope or... warnings of failure.

  Thehing faded away...

  ***

  Slowly, Erik’s vision started clearing. He found himself lying on the shore of the river, and the te afternoon sunlight made him squint. His mouth was dry, as if he had being walking through a desert.

  “Ugghhh… what was that?” With a groa up, and tried to make sense of his situation. It slowly came ba. His head sowards the where he saw the vulture, but it, along with the tree, were gone.

  The bird’s cry echoed in his mind, relentless and sharp. Erik ched the medallion, its heat still faint against his palm. Was this a warning—or a test of his resolve?

  It felt like the world was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't make sense of it.

  Before he could think about it further, one of the city-folk crossing the bridge spat and muttered loudly under his breath, “Another no-good street rat polluting the river!”

  Startled, Erik looked up in puzzlement. The bridge and surrounding streets had people going about their affairs. Then he remembered where he was going and realized how te it had gotten.

  There air of guards on one of the streets across the river that were talking and pointing in his dire. They then started making their way towards him.

  Erik's stomach twisted. He shoved the medallion bato his shirt and dashed off towards the guild, cursing under his breath. When he gnced back, the guards slowed, exged a ghen turned back toward their post. Erik let out a shaky breath, knowing he wasn’t worth the trouble—for now.

  The su paihe sky in bright, vibrant colors and illumihe hill in warm e as Erik arrived at his destination.

  The guild hall, t at four stories, was built from massive tree trunks and adorned with runes, inse burners, and tris. Carvings of mystidscapes and hideous monsters lis walls, each a glorious testament to the explorers’ exploits and legacies. And the building wore those proudly, like medals of honor.

  In front of it, there was a dispersing crowd, many young adults with friends aives. Some were thoughtful, some g, and some ughing joyfully.

  Erik's gaze tunneled orance of the guild.

  “No,” he squeezed out when he saw the doors closed, and no staff present.