Ashen Vale had always imagined schools as dusty places filled with rules and chalkboards.
Cradle Academy was not a school.
It was a weapon factory.
Ash's boots clicked against an endless bridge of glass suspended over nothingness. The "walkway" had no railings, no guards, no walls, just the sheer drop of a sky too deep to be real. Beneath, layers of clouds swirled like smoke. Somewhere far below, Tiered City Five pulsed in distant light and thunder.
"This place is insane," Ash muttered, hugging himself.
The guards didn't reply. They wore masks shaped like closed books and moved without sound. Only the ember in his chest pulsed comfortingly, as if saying, You're not alone.
After an eternity of steps, they reached a gate, tall, black, covered in glowing roots etched into its frame. As they approached, the gate unknotted itself and parted with a hiss.
Inside: a vast hexagonal chamber filled with students.
Children. Teenagers. No older than fifteen.
Hundreds of them stood in disciplined rows on ascending platforms, each marked by symbols: flame, feather, mirror, clock, thorn, and eye. All wore uniforms, sleek gray tunics trimmed in faint light matching their spell type. The moment Ash stepped in, silence fell.
All eyes turned to him.
Some curious. Some hostile. Some afraid.
You don't belong here, they silently said.
Ash swallowed.
"Step forward," said Crow, suddenly beside him. No warning. No sound. Just there.
Ash stepped forward.
A pedestal rose from the center of the chamber. It was smooth, round, and shimmered like obsidian dipped in gold. Floating above it was a ring of fire.
"State your name," Crow said, voice echoing unnaturally.
Ash hesitated.
A boy with violet hair near the back snorted. "He doesn't even know how to activate the Rootfire. Send him back to the junk zones."
A few others laughed quietly.
Ash clenched his fists.
The ember in his chest stirred. Words, not his own, slipped into his mind. Not language. Meaning.
He stepped up.
"I am Ashen Vale," he said, "and I call the ember that knows me."
The floating ring flared.
A pulse of orange light swept the chamber. The students all blinked, some shielding their eyes. The violet-haired boy stopped laughing.
From Ash's chest, a strand of golden flame curled into the air and touched the Rootfire.
It ignited.
WHOOM.
A tower of fire erupted around him, flickering with shifting runes and shadows of forgotten places, ruins, storms, battles. When it cleared, a symbol had burned itself into the pedestal:
🜂 — A flame split in two.
Crow's eye blazed. "So. It's true."
Gasps rang out across the room.
"Split-root," someone whispered. "That's impossible."
"No one survives a dual-emotion Root."
"Did he survive, or is he just echoing?"
"Silence," Crow snapped.
The room obeyed.
Crow stepped toward Ash, eyes studying him like a living puzzle. "You've bonded with a double-aspected Root Spell, Emotional and Conceptual."
Ash blinked. "What does that mean?"
"It means your mind shouldn't be intact," Crow said flatly. "And yet, here you are."
A girl stepped forward from the feather-marked row. She had dark skin, green braids, and serious eyes.
"Headmaster," she said. "Shouldn't a dual-aspect Root Spell be evaluated by the Council directly?"
Crow smirked. "They'll come when they smell the fire."
He turned to the crowd.
"This is your new classmate. Rank—unclassified. Spell—unformed. Risk—extreme. You may call him Wildroot until proven otherwise."
Murmurs erupted again. Some amused. Some nervous.
"Good luck not exploding," the violet-haired boy called. "Half the Wildroots burn out by lunch."
Crow raised a finger. The boy's mouth sealed shut with a pop.
Ash stared.
Crow whispered to him, "Arrogance smells best when roasted."
Then, he turned and pointed toward the northeast wing. "Dormitory Five. Follow the light."
Ash didn't move.
Crow leaned in. "You think the city was harsh? This is where memory goes to war. Either you shape it, or it shapes you."
Then he vanished.
Ash turned. A faint gold trail had appeared on the floor, snaking toward an archway.
He followed it.
***
Dormitory Five – First Night
The dorm was… not a dorm.
It was a floating cube of glass and moss suspended in space. Inside: six beds, floating bookshelves, and a shimmering window that looked out onto stars Ash was pretty sure weren't real.
Two other boys were already inside.
The first sat upside down on his bed, balancing an ink orb on his finger. He had one green eye, one orange, and wild curls.
The second sat cross-legged, polishing something that looked like a flute made of bone.
Ash paused at the door.
The flute boy looked up. "You're the Wildroot."
Ash nodded.
The curly-haired one smiled wide. "Cool. I'm Kepp. That's Ren. We're your bunkmates unless you explode."
"Not planning to," Ash said.
Kepp shrugged. "They never plan to. I give you three days. Four if you eat slow."
Ren said nothing. His eyes never left Ash, studying something deeper.
Ash moved to the empty bed by the wall.
As he sat, a soft chime rang across the room.
"Warning: Initiation Trial begins at dawn. Participants will report to Echo Field Eleven. Dreamguard supervision authorized."
Ash looked around. "Initiation? Already?"
Kepp nodded. "You fell in on Selection Week. Lucky you. Trial's meant to test your root stability."
"And if I fail?"
Ren finally spoke. "You bleed your memory until your Root shatters."
"…That's legal?"
"No," said Kepp. "But here, survival is legal."
Ash lay back on the bed. The ember inside him throbbed once.
He didn't sleep.
***
Echo Field Eleven – The Trial
Echo Field Eleven was a shattered ruin floating in midnight.
Buildings drifted in space, held together by light bridges and echo threads. The sky bled sideways. A red moon blinked in and out of existence.
Ash stood on a circular platform with twenty other students. Across from him: a chasm.
Crow appeared above on a hovering disc, robes fluttering.
"This field is bound to a memory storm," he said. "It reacts to your worst moment and reflects it."
Ash stiffened.
"You will survive by one means only—binding your Root Spell into form. If your bond fails, you will collapse into echo-sickness. If your Root rejects you, it will leave. Or destroy you."
Kepp leaned over. "No pressure."
Crow raised a hand.
"Begin."
The world broke. Ash's platform shattered, dropping him into freefall.
He landed in rain.
Same alley. Same tram wreck. Same birthday.
But the world twisted around him—colors too sharp, sounds distorted.
Memory.
He turned and saw her.
His mother. Alive.
She stood at the tram, holding a glowing crystal, hair soaked, eyes full of something unreadable.
"Ashen," she said, smiling.
He ran toward her.
But the alley stretched. Her figure blurred. The rain fell upward. His boots stuck to the floor like glue.
"Don't!" the ember whispered in his head. "This is false! Memory shaped by fear!"
Ash gritted his teeth.
The image flickered. His mother's face twisted into someone else's—something else's. Shadow replacing skin. Eyes hollow. Mouth bleeding sparks.
He stopped.
"You're not her."
The figure hissed.
"You're what I feared," Ash said. "Not what I lost."
He closed his eyes.
"Ember Voice," he whispered.
"Cast me," the Root replied.
Ash opened his mouth.
And spoke.
"Burn the lie."
The world screamed.
His voice echoed with flame—not fire, but truth. The false memory shattered like glass, and a ring of gold fire exploded from his chest, forming a symbol midair: 🜂. The burning flame-sigil locked into place.
And from it, a construct was born.
A humanoid figure made of golden embers. It had no face. Only a voice, his voice repeating the words:
"Burn the lie. Burn the lie. Burn the lie."
The memory world disintegrated.
Ash opened his eyes.
He stood on a new platform—alone. Above him, the sky shimmered back into Cradle's dome. The Echo Field faded.
Crow hovered down.
"Well," he said. "You lived."
Ash nodded.
"Construct manifestation within initiation," Crow said, tapping his notes. "Class change. You are no longer Wildroot."
"What am I?"
Crow looked him in the eye.
"Cradleborn."
Gasps erupted from nearby instructors.
Crow didn't wait. He turned to the other passing students. "Welcome to your second life."
Ash looked down at the glowing construct beside him. It flickered once, then folded back into light.
The ember smiled.