Gabriel
The dream was quiet in a way that felt almost sacred.
Not eerie or empty.
Just still.
There was no sky above me, no ground beneath me, no horizon to tell me where the world ended. Just a stretch of darkness so complete it didn't feel like darkness at all anymore. It felt like the world had been peeled back until only warmth remained.
The air wasn't cold. It wasn't warm either.
It simply existed.
I blinked once, then again, staring into the endless black around me.
"…Where… am I?"
Nothing answered.
Then I heard it.
A laugh.
Soft, Gentle, Familiar in a way that made my chest tighten so suddenly I almost forgot how to breathe.
Vivienne.
I froze.
My body reacted before my mind did, every muscle going still as if the sound itself had caught me by the throat. I turned.
She was there.
Not appearing or arriving. Just sitting a few steps away like she had been waiting for me the whole time and I had finally stumbled in late.
She smiled.
"There you are."
I couldn't speak.
I just stared.
Her hair, her eyes, the tiny tilt of her head, the way she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear when she was thinking- everything was the same. Exactly as I remembered. So painfully normal it made the dream feel unreal in the worst way possible.
"…You still make that face," she said quietly, smiling a little more. "Like you forgot how to speak."
Something stung behind my eyes.
"I…" My voice cracked instantly. "I forgot…"
She blinked. "What?"
I swallowed hard, my throat burning.
"…What your voice sounded like."
The second I said it, I broke.
For the first time in a year, I cried in front of her again.
Not loudly or dramatically, just quietly.
Like someone whose body had finally remembered how.
Vivienne didn't interrupt me. She only waited, patient and gentle and real enough to hurt. When I wiped my face with the heel of my hand, she was still looking at me with that same soft expression.
"I've missed you too," she said.
I let out one shaky laugh through my tears.
"…You always knew what I was thinking."
Her smile flickered into something warmer. "You've never been very difficult to read."
I looked down and took a slow breath. The blackness around us felt smaller somehow, almost like it had narrowed to make room for this conversation.
"I keep thinking…" I started, then stopped. My throat tightened again. "If I had just been stronger…"
Vivienne immediately shook her head. "No."
"If I made one different decision…"
"No."
"If I got there sooner—"
"Gabriel."
Her voice wasn't harsh. It was firm.
I went silent.
She looked at me with a kind of sadness that felt older than the dream itself.
"You carried that night every single day since it happened."
"…Yeah."
"But you are not carrying it alone."
I stared at her with my face still damp and my breathing uneven.
"I don't know how to stop," I admitted.
"I know," she said.
And the worst part was that she meant it kindly.
For a second I almost said that I didn't want to stop. That I didn't know if I deserved to. But before I could, the thought came out anyway.
"…I don't think I want to."
Vivienne's expression softened even more.
"You don't have to let go of us," she said. "But you should."
She calmly held her arms out to me.
"Come here."
I hesitated.
It felt almost wrong, like moving too quickly would ruin the dream, like if I stepped too fast, she would vanish.
Vivienne smiled with that tiny understanding look she always had.
"I'm not going anywhere."
So slowly, carefully, I crossed the space between us and sank into the place in her chest that knew me best.
Immediately everything changed.
It got quieter, safer.
Her arms wrapped around me and my body relaxed before I even realized it had been tense. My breathing steadied, and my eyes closed. For one impossible moment, I felt like I had stumbled back into a life I was never supposed to lose.
"I almost forgot what this felt like," I whispered.
She rested her head on top of mine.
"I know."
For a long time, neither of us said anything.
We just existed there together.
And then, without warning, the thought that had been lurking at the edge of my mind all night finally broke through.
"…I'm scared."
Vivienne lifted her head slightly. "Of what?"
I hesitated.
"…That one day I'll stop remembering you and Iris."
She smiled sadly.
"You won't."
"I already forgot your voice."
"…"
"But you remembered it the second you heard it again," she said.
I gave a weak smile.
"Yeah…"
She reached up and stroked my hair.
"I'm proud of you."
My smile faltered immediately.
"Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because…" I looked down. My throat tightened again. "I haven't done anything worth being proud of."
Vivienne shook her head gently.
"You woke up every morning," she said. "You kept going. You ate, you loved us, and you still do."
"…"
"And that's enough."
The dream should have stayed gentle.
It should have ended there.
But the second I heard those words, something in me tightened so hard it hurt. Without thinking, I hugged her back with everything I had.
Tightly.
Almost desperately.
Like I was trying to make up for every hug I had lost.
Vivienne stiffened.
Just a little.
I didn't notice at first.
I only knew I didn't want to let go.
Then I heard it.
A tiny crack.
My smile vanished.
…?
My arms wouldn't move.
I tried to loosen my grip.
Nothing happened.
"…Vi—Vivi?"
My muscles tightened on their own.
No.
No, no, no.
My breathing started to pick up.
My forearms trembled.
I tried to pull back, but I couldn't.
"Move…"
I whispered to myself.
"Please…"
A dull pressure echoed through the silence.
Then another crack, Louder this time.
Vivienne winced, only for a moment. She didn't cry out.
She just kept stroking my hair and said, very softly, "It's okay."
My eyes widened.
"No… It isn't!"
The first hints of Overdrive bled into my arms before I realized it was happening. Deep crimson veins of red were crawling under my skin like something alive had woken up inside me.
"NO!"
I forced every muscle in my body to let go, but nothing.
My grip only tightened.
"Stop!"
Another crack.
Then another.
Smaller, Worse.
Vivienne's breathing changed.
I heard it.
She still didn't struggle.
She only kept touching my hair as if that would somehow calm the thing turning my arms into a vice.
"I know," she whispered.
"I'm sorry!"
"I know," she whispered.
"I didn't mean to—"
"I know," she whispered.
"I can't stop!"
"I know," she whispered.
Tears streamed down my face so fast I could barely see her anymore.
Then everything went still.
The warmth disappeared.
The hands resting on the back of my head slowly slipped away.
I already knew before I looked.
Vivienne was gone.
Her body hung limp in my arms exactly like before.
I stared at her.
Unable to breathe, unable to think, and unable to scream.
Only one thought echoed through the black void like a curse.
Even here…
Even in the only place I could hold you again…
I killed you.
The alarm tore through the room, and I let it ring for a few more seconds before I shut it off.
My heart was pounding so violently it hurt.
I stared at my hands above my face.
They were shaking.
Not because I was cold, but because for one impossible moment, they still remembered what they had done.
For a long time, I just lay there and stared.
Then I whispered, barely audible even to myself, "I can't even keep you safe in my dreams."
A few minutes later, I got up, splashed cold water on my face, and checked the dorm.
I could hear movement from the girls' room, so I figured they were already awake. In the living room, Elias was still completely knocked out on the couch, sprawled there like a dead man who had lost an argument with gravity.
"I didn't... know... my arms were.... baguettes..... My—"
I sighed, opened the curtains, and immediately heard the most offended sound possible from the couch.
"EYES!" Elias shouted.
"CLOSE IT!"
I blinked at him. "It's six."
"I HAVE ONE MORE HOUR!" he yelled again. "WHY IS IT SO BRIGHT?"
Nadia came out of her room already in uniform, looking far too awake for this hour. She glanced at Elias, then at me, and sighed.
"Is he always like this?"
I nodded once.
"Mostly."
After Elias and I got ready, we headed down to the cafeteria and grabbed breakfast. The place was already full of cadets, some quiet, some loud, some half-asleep and trying to survive the morning through pure spite. Elias piled his tray with enough food to feed a small country. I got something simpler. We eventually spotted Nadia and Lina at a table near the side and sat down with them.
For a few minutes, the conversation was easy.
Elias complained about the morning air being "criminally personal."
"You sound like an old man in a teenager's body." Nadia joked..
"Wait," Elias said, looking between them. "You guys were both awake, and I was still asleep?"
Nadia shrugged. "Some of us know how to lose to alarms with dignity."
"Some of us don't," I muttered.
She pointed at me. "You woke him up."
Elias immediately crossed his hands. "That is vile slander. I am a living necessity."
"You were drooling on the couch," Nadia said.
"Respectfully," Elias replied, "I was resting."
Lina looked down at her tray, quietly separating everything on it so none of the food touched.
Nadia noticed immediately, of course.
"You do that every time?" she asked.
There was a tiny pause.
"…Yes," Lina said.
"…Cute," Nadia said.
Lina immediately looked away.
The conversation drifted after that. Nadia asked if we had slept well, which turned into Elias talking too much, which turned into Nadia laughing at him for talking too much. At one point she asked if the dorm alarm sounded like a dying bird to anyone else. Elias insisted the academy was probably doing it on purpose to "build character."
After a while, the topic shifted to the assessments.
Nadia tapped the side of her tray with one finger. "So what are we all taking first?"
I glanced at the schedule card in my pocket. "I've got the written first, physical second, and spiritual last."
Elias groaned dramatically. "Physical with me? I hope you're ready to be humbled."
Nadia laughed. "By him? Please."
Lina smiled faintly at the two of them bickering, then quietly asked, "What kind of physical test do you think it'll be?"
Elias leaned back. "Probably the usual academy stuff. Running. Pull-ups. Wall climbing. Jumping over things."
"I've watched enough training videos to know how these places like to torture people," Nadia replied.
The bell rang before the conversation could wander much farther.
The cafeteria noise faded into a scrape of chairs and trays as cadets started moving toward their assigned assessment blocks.
***
The written test room was huge.
Rows of seats. Divider panels. Bright fluorescent light. An unnervingly calm proctor at the front. I chose a seat beside Lina, and I could tell immediately that neither of us was sure who was supposed to start talking first. That made it awkward in the exact way I expected it to be.
I glanced at her once and decided to try anyway.
"Did you sleep at all?" I asked quietly.
Lina blinked, then nodded a little. "A little."
"…You seem more awake than Elias."
She looked down at her hands. "That is not difficult."
I let out a quiet breath that might have been a laugh.
Lina's mouth twitched slightly like she wanted to laugh too, but wasn't quite brave enough.
"Do you like written tests?" I asked after a second.
She hesitated. "I like questions with one correct answer."
"That sounds nice."
"It usually isn't."
That almost caught me off guard. I glanced at her, and for a second she looked startled that she had said anything at all. Then she turned her eyes back to her desk and went quiet again.
A proctor walked down the aisle and started passing out headsets. After trying them on, we were all tapped into our own worlds with the sound of a single click.
The test itself was exactly the kind of thing I expected from Sablegate.
Part one was danger recognition.
A busy city street, a child alone near a collapsed bus stop, a family of four standing too still under a flickering streetlight, a man in a raincoat with no reflection, a woman with a smile that didn't match her eyes.
The prompt asked which figures were likely human, which were likely demon-disguised, and which required immediate action.
Another section gave scenarios like smoke leaking from a building with three possible exits, a suspected demon invasion near a school zone, a civilian with strange eye markings, a broken bridge, and a "safe" room that was likely anything but.
Then there were questions about weapon choice.
Which tools are most effective for killing demons? Which are safest for rescue? Which are least likely to cause collateral damage?
A few of the options were obvious.
Swords and spears for close combat, bows or thrown blades for controlled force, guns for ranged suppression, spiritual reinforcement for improved effectiveness, and emergency use of technology when spirit control is low.
There were questions about demon anatomy too.
Not the disgusting kind, but more like tactical diagrams.
Which body zones are most efficient to disable? Which tendons are easiest to sever without overcommitting? Where do you aim if a target regenerates from the neck down? What is the correct protocol if a child is marked for execution during an invasion?
That last one made me pause for a second longer than the others.
The correct answer, in my opinion, was to guard the child first, prioritize escaping with the target, and do not attempt heroics alone unless immediate force is the only available option.
A few questions were basically nightmare logic puzzles.
If a building is on fire and a demon is inside, if a civilian is crying out from the second floor, if the only weapon available is damaged, if your spirit reserve is low, what do you do?
Those I could answer. Maybe not perfectly, but enough.
By the time I handed in my sheet, I had the distinct feeling I had done better than I expected.
***
The physical assessment was after that, and Elias was already grinning like he was about to get to enjoy my suffering in real time.
"Try not to embarrass yourself too much," he said.
I gave him a sideways glance. "I'll try not to embarrass you too much."
He snorted.
The physical block was less like a normal fitness test and more like a series of timed trials designed to humiliate anybody who thought they were in shape.
There was a pacer test to begin with, then pull-ups, then a sprint, then an obstacle line that forced us to climb, vault, duck, and crawl through a narrow course. After that came a window-entry drill, where we had to enter a mock building, cross a room, and exit while carrying a weighted dummy over one shoulder. Then there were balance beams, reaction lights, timed sprints, and a rescue carry.
The instructors didn't care if we looked cool; they cared if we could move.
The pacer test went until people started breathing too hard to pretend they were fine.
One recruit beside me quit after the 20th round.
Elias made it absurdly far.
I made it farther than I wanted to admit.
Pull-ups were next, and I did better there than on the run. Elias made a show of dropping from the bar and stretching his arms as if he just broke a record. "You're all welcome to clap," he said.
"Maybe later," one of the instructors muttered.
The obstacle course was the part I actually liked.
It was chaos, but controlled chaos.
I had to vault a waist-high wall, crawl under a line of swinging bars, sprint through a narrow hallway with red and blue reaction lights flashing, leap through a low window frame, and drag a weighted training dummy across the floor to the marked rescue zone.
The instructors made a point of asking questions while we moved.
"If a civilian and your teammate are trapped and you only have time to save one person?"
"Civilian first," I said, barely out of breath.
"If a demon is between you and the exit?"
"Stand my ground."
"If you can't win the fight?"
"Delay it."
The instructor gave a sharp nod and let me continue.
During the balance section, one of the beams shifted slightly under my feet, and I nearly overcorrected.
Elias was right behind me and muttered, "If you fall, I'm telling everyone you were looking at the ceiling."
"I wasn't."
"You were absolutely looking at the ceiling."
"Shut up."
He laughed and nearly missed his own landing.
By the time the obstacle run ended, my legs were tired but not broken, and the instructor's face told me that was good enough.
***
The spiritual exam came last.
That was the one that worried me most.
Not because I thought it would be hard.
Because I knew exactly what they were looking for.
A long table sat near the entrance where a trio of examiners checked each cadet for unauthorized spirit supplements before anything else. One examiner inspected the underarms, wrists, and collar line for hidden injectors or residue. Another scanned the spiritual signature around our bodies. The third wrote notes onto a clipboard without looking up.
"Reserve?" the first examiner asked.
"Ninety-three," one cadet replied.
"Ninety-one," said another.
"Ninety-four," a third answered.
They were looking for anyone whose energy levels were unnaturally stabilized, too high, too low, or artificially boosted.
The spiritual assessment wasn't just one thing. It was a sequence of controlled trials meant to measure how well a cadet could shape, sustain, and recover their energy.
There was a control test first.
"create a thread, hold it steady, thin it without breaking it, then extend it into a small target."
Then output.
"sustain an aura orb for as long as you can without feeding it."
Then response.
"Interrupt the orb, rebuild it, and make it look identical."
Then recovery.
"Drain a small amount of spirit and measure how quickly it disintegrates."
The room was lined with metallic markers, glass crystal rods, and small pressure plates that reacted to spiritual density. Every time a cadet pushed their energy out, the machines tracked how evenly it spread, how thin the threads were, how much control they had over the volume, and how well they could recover after strain.
It felt almost like an eye exam for the soul.
I was doing well; Better than I expected.
My thread formation was somewhat steady; my control was somewhat clean; I could maintain the barrier long enough to satisfy the examiners... I think. And the little crystal lattice reacted in a way that made one of them nod to herself while writing something down. The numbers on the display were not impressive in the way Elias's physical score had been, but they were good enough.
Then, halfway through the final exercise, I felt a pressure bloom behind my nose.
I ignored it.
My threads were still holding.
The examiner signaled for me to continue.
A second later, I tasted blood, and I knew instantly that it was too late.
I raised a hand and covered my nose, but it wasn't enough.
Blood spilled between my fingers and splattered onto the floor.
No one in the room said anything at first.
But then one head turned, then another, then another.
The examiner's face changed immediately.
"That's enough," she said.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"I said stop."
I lowered my hand, but I could already feel the blood still slipping.
The examiner stepped closer, eyes locked on me now in a way that made everything else feel silent.
"Cadet Gabriel Aster Cain," she said. "What was your reserve?"
"Ninety-four percent."
Her expression tightened.
"Ninety-four?"
Another examiner looked over from the side; one started writing faster; another checked the instruments again, visibly frowning. The third quietly said, "Mark it."
The woman in front of me didn't look angry, but that somehow made it worse. She looked concerned and worried.
The kind of worried that doesn't belong to a classroom or a test room, nor to people about to tell you something you don't want to hear.
She lowered her voice.
"See me after the bell rings."
I stood there, blood still warm on my fingers, while the room kept moving around me as nothing had happened.
But I already knew something had, and I had the feeling the next part of the day was not going to be about passing.