Instructor Vallen Raenhir stood before us, her sharp gaze sweeping across the room one face at a time.

  When her deep brown eyes met mine, a chill slid down my spine. Not fear, more like the instinctive awareness that prey feels when a predator has noticed it.

  We were gathered inside one of Willow’s End’s larger huts, its walls woven from living wood and broad leaves that filtered sunlight into soft green hues. After the team selection ended, we were brought here for our first lesson.

  Vallen flicked her crimson robes aside with practiced ease and planted herself at the head of the table.

  “I have only one rule for my team,” she said.

  “Don’t die.”

  She delivered it casually, as if reminding us to stretch before exercise. A ripple of uneasy whispers stirred among us.

  “The survival rate for a first exploration averages seventy percent,” Vallen continued, her tone calm, precise. "For druids... it’s less than thirty."

  The whispers grew louder, a rising murmur of panic.

  Vallen leaned forward, both hands braced against the table. Her gaze swept over us again, sharp and unyielding, like a hawk judging weaklings from the strong.

  “But if you listen,” she said, voice low and cold, “and actually do what I teach you, your chances of survival will double.”

  She straightened.

  “That’s the only promise I can make.”

  I did the math without meaning to.

  Nine of us. Five might come back.

  Pica, the smallest among us, shifted uneasily in her seat. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sleeve before she finally squeaked out, “Th-then… do we have to go? Into the Tower, I mean?”

  Alton, a strict-looking newborn, sighed loudly and crossed his arms. “Were you listening at all?”

  Pica’s face drained of color. She shrank back into her seat, biting her lip like a scolded child.

  “That’s enough.”

  Vallen’s voice cracked like a whip, silencing the room in an instant. She straightened, her tone dropping into a slow, deliberate rhythm, the kind that demanded attention.

  “I’ll explain from the beginning. Listen carefully. I won’t repeat myself.”

  And then she revealed the brutal truth.

  As citizens of the Asterion Kingdom, druids were bound by a mandatory exploration quota. In our first year alone, we were required to enter the Tower at least six times. The Mana Stones harvested inside weren’t rewards.

  They were tax.

  Payment demanded by the kingdom.

  “Failure to meet quota,” Vallen continued, “results in exile.”

  A pause.

  “Or execution.”

  Someone sucked in a sharp breath. Pica’s shoulders curled inward like she’d been struck.

  The Tower was never meant for training. It was alive with danger. Every floor climbed bred stronger monsters and threats that didn’t just kill, but erased completely. Mana Stones could only be obtained by slaying them.

  “So as long as you help us inside, we’ll survive, right?”

  Sable’s voice was steady, but I heard the strain underneath. She stood tall despite her unease, dark hair falling down her back.

  Vallen shook her head. “I can’t.”

  A faint sigh escaped her. “Druids who hold titles like me are exempt from quotas and taxes. But we’re also forbidden from entering the Tower.”

  “Then what’s the point?” Alton burst out. “Wouldn’t the kingdom benefit more if more of us survived?”

  Vallen stared at him sharply but decided to let it slide. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, almost weary.

  “These laws were written centuries ago,” she said quietly. “I don’t agree with them. But I don’t make them.”

  She didn’t need to explain further.

  Just like in Dreadspire, the Royal Palace was ruled entirely by humans. Control came through quotas, restrictions, and laws that bled the other races dry. It wasn't a coincidence that humans outnumbered everyone else.

  “What about teaming up with experienced druids?” Alwen asked. “That’s allowed, right?”

  Vallen nodded. “If you can convince someone.”

  I almost laughed.

  With life and death on the line, no one in their right mind would take on extra burden for nothing.

  Still, one question gnawed at me.

  “When do we enter the Tower?”

  The words slipped out before I weighed them.

  Vallen was silent for a beat before answering. “Three days,” she said. “You have three days to prepare.”

  The room tilted slightly. My mind went blank.

  Three days? That was it? Why hadn't we been told sooner?

  As I glanced around, understanding dawned. We’d been divided into small groups before this revelation deliberately. Panic contained by design.

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  Fear carved itself across faces. Alton swore under his breath. Pica broke down as Sable pulled her close. Rage, dread, despair, each reaction played out in silence.

  “Stop.”

  Vallen didn’t raise her voice.

  She didn’t need to.

  “Newborns must join the next exploration immediately. That is the law. Not mine, not the Archdruid’s, but the kingdom’s.” Her gaze cut through us.

  “If you’d rather waste your precious time crying, do it quickly. Tell me when you’re finished so we can continue training.”

  The hut sank into suffocating quiet.

  “You have three days,” Vallen said, folding her arms. “Train harder than you think possible. Once the Tower swallows you, there are no second chances.”

  Her words hung in the air like a death sentence.

  And in that silence, the thought pressed down on me with unbearable weight: three days from now, some of us would already be dead.

  ***

  “Sit up straighter.”

  Vallen reached over and tapped Callen’s shoulder. “Don’t tilt your head back.”

  “And you, Pica, stop biting your lips. Calm mind. Relaxed body.”

  Hours blurred together as we learned the basics of Mana.

  In Dreadspire, using Mana was as simple as pressing a button.

  Here, it demanded understanding.

  Breathing. Flow. Release.

  I inhaled slowly, guiding the faint current inside me toward my hands.

  “I did it! I actually did it!” someone shouted right next to me, voice bursting with excitement like a firecracker in a library.

  And there went my concentration.

  I cracked one eye open.

  A small-framed druid with big, round blue eyes was grinning from ear to ear. Her button nose and chubby cheeks made her look even younger than the rest of us. What really caught my attention, though, was the faint glow wrapped around her hands, shimmering like misted light.

  She’d done it.

  “Excellent,” Vallen said, stepping closer. “Now lower your voice. And keep practicing.”

  Orin nodded vigorously, shutting her eyes again, her face still lighting up with pride.

  I shifted in place, trying to refocus, but her excitement spread through the air like an electric current. Some of the others didn’t seem so thrilled.

  Alton snorted, rolling his eyes. "Really? Does anyone care? We’re training here, not showing off." His voice was laced with irritation, a slight edge of jealousy in his tone.

  Pica, sitting nearby, fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, eyes wide as she watched the Mana shimmer in Orin’s hands. A soft tremor ran through her fingers. She was trying to keep it together, but I could tell she was struggling.

  “It’s... it’s fine,” Pica mumbled under her breath, trying to sound reassuring. But it came out shaky, not quite convincing anyone, least of all herself.

  Vallen didn’t respond to the murmurs, only glancing around the room with her usual, calculating gaze. Her voice cut through the tension. "Focus on your training, not hers. Don't let distractions interfere."

  I tried again, blocking out the noise, the rising tension around me. Orin’s excitement still buzzed in my ears, but I shut it out, refocusing.

  Just as I began to focus, a familiar voice broke through the silence.

  Alwen.

  His Mana flowing steady and smooth.

  No wonder he got into the team before me.

  I met his smug grin with a half-hearted one of my own, then closed my eyes.

  This time, I didn’t force it. I let it move on its own, gentle, fluid, and alive. A cool sensation spread through me as the flow grew stronger, threading through every vein and nerve like liquid light.

  Something loosened, like a blocked stream finally breaking free. The energy gathered in my hand, warm and pulsing.

  When I opened my eyes, a thin veil of shimmering Mana covered my palm.

  “Good,” said Vallen, her voice softer this time. “You finally listened.”

  “How many before me?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she replied flatly. “Keep practicing until it becomes second nature.” She walked off to check on the others.

  “You’re fourth,” Orin whispered. “After me, Alwen, and Alton.”

  Not bad.

  I smiled and resumed practicing.

  By evening, everyone succeeded. Only then did Vallen move us on to Mana detection, then meditation, drawing in the natural energy surrounding us to restore Mana reserves.

  When training finally ended, dusk had fallen.

  “Come,” Vallen said, glancing toward the window. “I’ll show you your quarters.”

  We followed her through moss-lined paths until the forest opened into a clearing.

  And there it stood.

  A colossal tree, its bark veined with soft, pulsing light that shimmered like starlit veins beneath its surface. The glow breathed gently, alive, like a thousand fireflies resting on its surface.

  “That’s…” Alwen exhaled, his voice barely a whisper. “Magnificent.”

  The tree had been shaped into a towering structure. At its base, a wide opening draped with leafy curtains served as the main entrance. Around the trunk, smaller holes of varying sizes glowed faintly, some warm and inviting, others dim and mysterious.

  Wooden stairs spiraled upward, connecting the levels, while rope ladders made of living vines dangled from higher branches. A few druids were still moving about the platforms, their silhouettes framed by the gentle light.

  Compared to the 2D version in Dreadspire, this felt unreal. Intricate carvings adorned the wood, merging seamlessly with moss and ivy that seemed to grow in deliberate, elegant patterns.

  Callen, naturally, couldn’t keep quiet. “How did they even build this? The weight distribution must be insane! And the light, what is that? Bioluminescence? Magic? Both?”

  Alton groaned, rubbing his temples. “Callen. Shut up for once.”

  From behind, Riven and Fenric smiled and chuckled at the exchange.

  The girls, Orin, Sable, and Pica, were holding hands, eyes wide with wonder as they stared up at the luminous branches.

  “Welcome to The Nest,” said Vallen, her stern face lit by the tree’s glow. “This is where druids rest. The main entrance leads to the common hall, and your quarters are right over there.”

  She pointed toward a high opening on the right side of the trunk, where a small balcony-like platform jutted outward.

  “That’s way up there,” complained Callen. “Can’t we get one closer to the ground?”

  Our assigned room was almost near the top. To reach it, we’d have to climb a winding staircase and then a vine ladder leading to the balcony.

  “Quit whining,” Alton muttered, still in a foul mood.

  “It seems newborns all get the top spots,” said Alwen, nodding toward another newborn team climbing a similar vine ladder.

  “That’s right,” Vallen confirmed. “The bright side is, you get a better view.”

  Callen gulped. “Comforting.”

  “So what about you, Instructor?” Sable asked. “Where’s your room?”

  “Instructors live elsewhere,” Vallen replied. “Not far, though.” She paused, then added in a tone that brooked no argument, “Now get some rest. Class starts again tomorrow at seven sharp. Don’t be late.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Alton, puffing his chest like a self-proclaimed leader. “I’ll make sure everyone’s up.”

  No one even bothered to answer. We were all too tired to care. And besides, that climb was waiting for us.

  Vallen left soon after, her silhouette fading into the forest glow. One by one, the others began ascending the stairs, except for me.

  “Not going up yet, Eryndor?” Pica asked, glancing back.

  “There’s something I need to check first,” I replied. “You all go ahead.”

  “Don’t regret it if you end up without a bed,” teased Fenric.

  “No worries,” I shot back with a smirk. “I’ll just kick you off yours.”

  “Be careful, Eryndor. We’ll see you up there,” said Alwen before following the rest.

  I watched them go, a little envious they’d soon be resting. Comfort was a risk I couldn’t afford.

  I turned away from the stairs and headed back into the forest, my next move already decided.

  Time for a treasure hunt.