The academy moved on with its usual rhythm after the tournament, though for Kael and Elowen the days seemed sharper, fuller. The last three weeks of the thirteenth month, followed by the entirety of the fourteenth, carried them through a steady pace of classes, training, and shared moments that deepened into something neither of them could dismiss.
At first, their interactions drew curious glances. Whispers followed when Kael and Elowen sat together during meals, or when they were seen leaving the same study hall late in the evening. The memory of Rys's death was still fresh in some minds, and a few thought it unseemly that Kael might have moved on so quickly. But Kael didn't hear judgment in Elowen's presence — only an understanding warmth that steadied them.
They had survived the tournament. Together.
---
Classes during this stretch carried an undercurrent of competition. The finalized challenges of the second tournament had given way to an undercurrent of speculation about the third — though that vote was still in progress and wouldn't close until the fifteenth month. Students whispered about which contests might surface this time, whether something even stranger than the Veil Maze or the Waking Gate might be chosen. But for Kael, the speculation was background noise.
Their attention settled more and more often on Elowen. She had a quiet confidence, neither showy nor hesitant, and Kael found themselves watching her in unguarded moments. During sparring drills she moved with precision, conserving energy where others wasted it. When she laughed — and she didn't often — it was a sound that cut through the weariness of endless training.
They began developing routines. Lunch together when schedules aligned. A sparring match once every few days, where Elowen pushed Kael harder than anyone else dared. On evenings when classes weren't crushing, they studied together in the library's high alcoves, the candlelight softening the sharpness of Elowen's features.
---
The fourteenth month slipped by in a blur of winter's bite and disciplined training. Snow blanketed the academy grounds, crunching underfoot as students crossed between halls. The frozen stillness outside contrasted sharply with the intensity within the training arenas, where magical and physical practice pressed students to their limits.
One late evening, after a particularly grueling session, Kael and Elowen found themselves alone in the practice yard. Their breaths rose in visible clouds, the torches along the walls sputtering against the icy wind.
"You're holding back," Elowen said, wiping her brow. Her blade gleamed faintly under the torchlight.
Kael tilted their head. "Or maybe you're pushing harder."
Elowen smirked, a rare flash of mischief. "Then keep up."
She lunged, and the clash of steel rang into the frozen air. Kael met her with equal force, though their muscles screamed in protest. The duel stretched on until both collapsed against the yard's edge, breathless and laughing despite the aches.
For a long moment, they sat side by side in the snow-dusted quiet, neither speaking. There was no need.
---
The weeks that followed continued in that cadence — steady, intimate, a thread tightening between them with every shared look and word. Even as the vote for the third tournament's challenges drew closer to its conclusion, and students buzzed with anticipation, Kael's world had narrowed.
Not in isolation. Not in grief.
But in the forming of something new.
Something strong.
---
The fifteenth month settled in under a slate-gray sky, snow giving way to slush and biting winds. Students walked briskly between halls, collars turned up, conversations quickened more by anticipation than the cold. The second great poll of the year was nearing its close.
Every student had been given the same choice: which three competitions would define the next tournament? The submissions had been flooding in since the thirteenth month, each one visible on the shimmering wall of light in the Great Hall. With a touch of one's hand, the illusion expanded, showing names of submitters, brief descriptions of each trial, and how many votes it had gathered. Who voted for what remained secret — but the prestige of a winning submission was not.
Kael had wandered past the wall more than once, Elowen at their side. They didn't linger long. It was easy to get swept up in speculation, in whispers of strategy, in the jockeying of reputations. But Kael had learned from the last tournament that the challenges mattered less than one's ability to adapt. Elowen seemed to agree, her steady glance toward the board more thoughtful than eager.
"Do you think it'll matter which three win?" Kael asked one evening as they shared a meal.
"It always matters," Elowen said, her voice calm. "But not in the way people think. The ones who panic now will waste their training. The ones who prepare for anything — they'll endure."
Kael nodded, storing the words away.
---
The poll closed at the end of the fifteenth month, and tension swelled until the announcement came at dawn of the sixteenth. Students gathered in the amphitheater, breath misting in the sharp air, as the shimmering wall reappeared.
The choices had been finalized.
The Third Tournament Challenges – Declared:
1. The Iron Ascent – Endurance & Climbing Gauntlet
2. The Mirror's Truth – Illusion and Willpower Trial
3. The Crucible Forge – Creation Under Pressure
The amphitheater buzzed with reactions. Some groaned at the endurance-heavy Ascent, others muttered about the dread of illusions returning so soon after the Veil Maze. The Crucible Forge drew the loudest discussions — creation-based contests were rare and often brutal, measuring ingenuity as much as strength.
Elowen folded her arms, studying the board. "This… will be interesting."
Kael tilted their head. "You sound almost pleased."
Her lips curved, not quite a smile. "Because it favors those who don't crumble when pressed. Those who think, not just fight."
---
Even as the results spread through the academy, a new rhythm began. With the challenges declared, the next stage opened: the vote for grading criteria. Each student was given the chance to submit one criterion per challenge, and one vote per challenge.
The rules were the same as before: if you submitted, you had to cast your vote for something other than your own idea. If you didn't submit, you could still vote. No one was required to participate, but the weight of the council's gaze made abstaining rare.
Kael read through the early submissions, Elowen at their side once more. Some were predictable — Strength of Grip for the Iron Ascent, Speed of Completion for the Mirror's Truth. Others were strange, even eccentric. One suggestion for the Crucible Forge was simply Artistry, with no further explanation. Another read, The ability to inspire those watching.
Elowen laughed quietly at that one. "Showmanship is always a hidden weight. But to call it out directly? Bold."
Kael glanced at her. "Would you vote for it?"
"Maybe," she said. "If only to see how many others want the tournament to be more than blood and grit."
Kael let the words settle. The sixteenth month had only just begun, and already the academy felt alive with fresh currents. Choices made now would shape their futures — and Kael could not help but wonder what unseen hand might be weaving these threads tighter, drawing them toward trials beyond any wall or maze.