Althéa hadn’t moved.

  Still upright.

  Still rigid.

  But her eyes never left Kael.

  Lucanis, meanwhile, had finally regained control of both his body and his breathing. He stepped forward slowly, circling around Althéa without daring to touch her, and stopped beside the Overdrawn’s corpse at Kael’s feet.

  He bent down, quickly examined the wingspan, the bone structure.

  Then he nodded—once.

  “Well done,” he said to Kael, his tone calm.

  His voice was steady again. And with it, his composure.

  He brushed two fingers over the creature’s dark feathers and added:

  “That one was definitely a Class-Four Overdrawn.”

  Kael straightened a little, crossed his arms, and let out a short laugh.

  “Well damn. Finally. Took long enough for something normal to happen in this damn course.”

  He paused, glancing from Lucanis to the creature, then to Althéa, still frozen behind them.

  “A Class-Four Overdrawn. Just that. I’m almost flattered.”

  He was smiling—but there was no real joy in it.

  At last, Althéa stepped forward as well.

  Still upright. Still dignified—even as she stepped over the mud.

  She approached the body, looked down at it, and let a silence of analysis stretch out.

  “I did most of the work,” she said finally, her tone dry. Almost automatic.

  Kael shrugged, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

  “Sore loser,” he muttered.

  She didn’t respond. Not even a glance.

  Instead, she turned to the two boys.

  “Have you seen anyone since yesterday?” she asked. “Other students? Instructors?”

  Lucanis answered first.

  “No. Nothing. We were both teleported into the canyon.”

  He continued, voice steady.

  “We tried following the rock wall to find an exit…

  And we ran into Overdrawn. Class-Threes. At least three of them.”

  The tone was serious. No doubt. No exaggeration.

  But Althéa shook her head slowly.

  “That’s impossible.”

  “The Institute would never allow Class-Threes anywhere near a training zone.”

  “The risk is far too high. Even for a practical course.”

  She fell silent for a moment. A worried crease had appeared between her brows.

  “Either something went wrong,” she said at last.

  “Or… someone lied about the level of security.”

  “Why would anyone lie about the security level?” Lucanis asked, arms crossed.

  “And besides… they knew you would be here, Princess. There’s no way they’d take that kind of risk.”

  Kael smiled faintly.

  “Unless they knew precisely that she’d be here.”

  Althéa slowly turned her head toward him, irritation flashing in her eyes.

  “Impossible. Vélara would have detected an anomaly by now.

  She’s probably questioned every instructor. Maybe even the students.”

  “Maybe,” Kael replied.

  “But in the meantime, we got teleported into what looks like the most dangerous spot in this entire course. So we could say the problem’s solved, right? Curtain call.”

  Lucanis shook his head.

  “Except we haven’t seen anyone since yesterday.

  And there were Class-Threes in the canyon.”

  “There’s nothing to say there aren’t any in the forest too. Or elsewhere.”

  Althéa pressed her lips together, then asked:

  “What did those Overdrawn look like?”

  Kael shrugged.

  “Terrifying creatures.

  They move on all fours, but they can rear up on two.

  The hind legs are longer than the front ones.

  No fur. Skin almost bare, stretched tight.

  Glassy eyes. Big ears.

  And a huge mouth—almost reaching the ears.”

  Althéa turned her gaze to Lucanis.

  He nodded.

  “Lycaons,” she said.

  “Class-Three, yes. But that’s not the real problem.”

  Kael rolled his eyes, theatrically exasperated.

  “Then what is the problem, Princess? We’re listening.”

  She locked her amethyst gaze onto his, implacable.

  “They’re predators.

  Trackers.”

  “If we encountered three of them… that means they were hunting.”

  “And that means they’re probably looking for us.”

  “Right now.”

  Lucanis remained calm.

  Not a word too many. Not a flicker of emotion. He absorbed the information, already thinking.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Kael, on the other hand, cursed under his breath.

  “I knew it. Of course this would land on us.

  Bad luck—same as always.”

  He glanced around, then lifted his eyes toward the branches above.

  “What if we hide in a tree? Wait for reinforcements, a portal… a miracle?”

  Lucanis let out a quiet sigh.

  “You’ve seen how they move.

  They climb. They leap. They’re almost more comfortable in the trees than on the ground.

  A trunk or a branch won’t stop them.”

  Kael exhaled sharply and cursed under his breath.

  Althéa watched the two of them. Coldly.

  “There are only two options,” she said.

  “We let them come to us… and we take them down.

  Or we go after them and eliminate them one by one.”

  “Either way, they’re capable of tracking our scent for dozens of kilometers.”

  Silence.

  Then Lucanis slowly nodded.

  “That’s a good plan. We take the initiative. It reduces the risk.”

  Kael shot him a glare.

  “Seriously? The last time you tried to fight them, you ran away.”

  Lucanis stared at him, speechless.

  Althéa, for her part, might have allowed the faintest smile to cross her lips.

  Or a smirk. Hard to tell.

  Kael threw his arms up, exasperated.

  “And by the way, what exactly are we supposed to do?

  Wait for the teacher to ring the bell and dismiss the class?”

  "Alright, children, time to go home—put your weapons down and wash your hands."

  Althéa raised an eyebrow slightly, not reacting to the sarcasm.

  “I’m no more informed than you are,” she said.

  “Vélara didn’t give me an extraction protocol. And I doubt there is one.”

  Lucanis, still composed despite the tension, stepped in:

  “Normally, all you have to do is find another teleportation circle similar to the one we arrived through.

  That’s how I usually leave survival practice courses.”

  He paused before adding:

  “But most of the time… the instructors come to retrieve us.

  We’re supposed to be easy to locate thanks to the instability of our momentum.”

  A heavy silence followed his words.

  This time, no one joked.

  If no instructor had come yet…

  Then maybe they couldn’t.

  Or maybe they didn’t even know where to look.

  Althéa spoke again, tone sharp, arms crossed:

  “We need to decide now.

  Do we hunt the lycaons… or do we wait for them?”

  Lucanis answered without hesitation:

  “We go after them. Better to strike first than get caught in our sleep.”

  Kael frowned.

  “And… there isn’t a third option? Like… something less suicidal?”

  “No,” Althéa and Lucanis said at the same time.

  Kael looked from one to the other, then let out a long sigh and sat down on the ground, cross-legged, elbows resting on his knees.

  He stayed quiet for a moment.

  Thinking out loud.

  Weighing the pros and cons. Too many cons.

  Then he looked up at them.

  “Listen… this might sound stupid, but—

  we could go back to the canyon.”

  Lucanis narrowed his eyes.

  “Go back? Why?”

  “Because the canyon’s elevated.

  And we need landmarks.”

  “If we can climb up to a promontory or find a good vantage point, we might spot signs of life.

  A fire. A shelter. Movement… anything.”

  He scratched his temple.

  “And if we see nothing—then yeah, we go hunt the lycaons.

  But at least we’ll have tried to find a less stupid solution first.”

  Lucanis crossed his arms, his gaze slightly narrowed.

  For once, he didn’t answer right away.

  “Your idea makes sense,” he said at last.

  “But in the canyon, we’ll be more exposed than in the forest.

  Fewer places to hide. More vulnerable.”

  Althéa nodded.

  “That will be true for the lycaons as well.

  They won’t be able to ambush us easily.”

  Lucanis continued:

  “Yes—but they know the terrain.

  They know where to walk, where to climb, where to hide.”

  Kael raised a hand, as if asking to speak—ironically, of course.

  “True. But… there’s one thing you’re forgetting: those things are loud.

  They run like panicked oxen. They growl. They hiss.

  And they stink. I mean—really.”

  He shrugged.

  “We’ll be able to spot them from at least ten meters away. Minimum.”

  “So yeah… if we’re going to get attacked anyway, might as well be somewhere we can hear them coming.”

  Lucanis finally let out a long breath.

  “Very well.

  We go back to the canyon. We climb. We observe.

  But if we don’t see anything useful… we go hunting.”

  Kael clicked his tongue, feigning enthusiasm.

  “Wonderful. Sounds promising.”

  Without waiting, the group set off.

  They walked in single file, moving through the forest still damp from the morning.

  The canyon remained visible—a grey gash between the trees. With every step, the void drew closer.

  Althéa frowned as she watched the direction they were heading.

  “Wait… how did you reach the forest?”

  “I don’t see any natural access. No path. No usable slope.”

  “I’m not even sure how we’re supposed to get back.”

  Kael, walking at the front, raised a hand with theatrical flair.

  “Oh, that? Easy. We jumped.”

  She stopped.

  “Jumped?”

  “Oh yes. Cliff edge. Canyon rim. Big drop.

  I jumped bravely.”

  He jerked his thumb toward Lucanis.

  “Him—I had to push.”

  Lucanis didn’t reply. He stared at the ground, perfectly neutral.

  Kael smiled, satisfied.

  “A beautiful display of mutual trust. Very moving.”

  “For getting back into the canyon, it’s simple,” Kael added with a shrug.

  “We just climb the wall.”

  He said it like he was talking about a flight of stairs.

  Althéa, walking beside Lucanis, stopped dead.

  The two boys—already a few steps ahead—slowed and turned around.

  Lucanis narrowed his eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Your Majesty?” he asked, half-mocking.

  Althéa shot him a glare, then pointed at the canyon with precise emphasis.

  “It’s impossible to climb.

  The wall is smooth. Vertical. With almost no natural handholds.”

  “And even if you jumped from the edge, climbing back up is an entirely different matter.”

  “We have no equipment. No rope. No anchors.

  This isn’t a climb. It’s a wall.”

  Kael grimaced—but a crooked smile was already tugging at his lips.

  “Honestly, it doesn’t look that bad.

  I’ve probably climbed worse in my life.”

  Lucanis nodded, eyes fixed on the distant rock face.

  “So have I,” he said simply.

  No embellishment. No bravado. Just quiet certainty.

  Althéa stared at them, stunned.

  “You’re idiots,” she muttered—more to herself than to them.

  Kael shrugged.

  “Or bold. Depends on your point of view.”

  “Or suicidal,” she cut in.

  Lucanis allowed himself a faint smile.

  “We survived the lycaons. We can survive a climb.”

  Althéa crossed her arms, stiff, eyes fixed on the canyon.

  “Do whatever you want. But I’m not retrieving your bodies.”

  “You don’t have to come, you know,” Kael said.

  “Stay down here. We’ll give you a report from the top.”

  Althéa froze.

  Her jaw tightened slowly, like a blade being honed.

  Her amethyst eyes grew even colder.

  Lucanis snapped his head toward Kael, his gaze dark.

  “That’s enough. You tend to forget you’re addressing the heir princess.”

  His tone was sharp. Final.

  Kael held his stare for a few seconds, then looked away with a low grunt.

  “I’m just saying that standing around talking for three hours isn’t getting us any closer to the top.”

  Lucanis didn’t reply.

  Althéa remained silent as well.

  But her eyes, still locked on Kael, burned with a glacial fire.

  They kept walking, the canyon straight ahead.

  The undergrowth gradually thinned, opening onto a narrow meadow bordered by tall, dark fir trees. The grass was short and dense, scarred with damp hollows and torn clumps.

  Althéa was the first to stop.

  “There,” she breathed.

  Kael and Lucanis looked up.

  A group of crows had gathered on the ground, forming a restless circle. They cawed, hopped, beat their wings.

  “I don’t like this,” Kael muttered.

  They approached.

  As they drew near, the birds took flight in a dry rush of wings, leaving behind a frozen sight: a human skeleton collapsed on the ground, gnawed by time.

  A rusted sword was embedded in what had once been its abdomen.

  Lucanis froze.

  Kael, on the other hand, twisted a crooked smile.

  “At least he found a place to rest.”

  Lucanis slowly turned his head toward him, brows knit.

  “A little respect.”

  “And look at the weapon… it could be useful. Princess, you don’t have a weapon, do you?”

  She turned her gaze away, nose wrinkling.

  “I don’t touch corpses.”

  Kael snorted.

  “It’s a skeleton, not a corpse. It’s not going to bite you.”

  Without waiting, he crouched and grabbed the sword’s hilt.

  With a strain, a dry crack, the blade slowly slid free of the bony torso.

  He held it out to Althéa, hilt first.

  She took it with her fingertips. Then, after a moment, shifted it from one hand to the other, testing the weight. She turned it in her palm, gauged the balance. Her face remained neutral.

  “It’s worthless.”

  Lucanis shrugged.

  “It’s still better than a crude stick.”

  He remained standing, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the skeleton.

  “I don’t like this,” he murmured.

  “A body like this, right in the middle of the way…”

  Kael straightened, still casual.

  “He’s been dead a long time. Look at the state of the bones.

  I doubt he was a student.”

  “And besides… look at the wound.”

  He pointed at the split rib cage.

  “That’s not an animal. Not bite marks.

  That’s a blade. A man put it there.”

  Lucanis clenched his jaw, gaze tense.

  “So we’re not alone out here.”

  Kael snorted.

  “You wanted action, didn’t you?”