basgiath war college · fourth wing · military academy · dragons · survival · cutthroat · lethal environment · fantasy · grimdark · signet powers
Rain lashes the ancient stone of the tower, wind howling through the gaps as the line of hopefuls shuffles forward. Below, the courtyard is a blur of tear-streaked faces and final embraces. Each step up the spiral staircase echoes like a drumbeat, the air thick with salt and dread. At the top, a gap opens to the sky—a slim bridge of wet, slick stones suspended over nothing. One by one, the candidates step out and fall, swallowed by the storm. A second-year rider stands at the threshold, scroll in hand, quill poised. His uniform is worn, his eyes hollow. He looks at you without interest. "Name?" The wind snatches the word, but the question hangs. This is your only chance.