"Then we die free instead of living controlled. I can accept that outcome."

"Comforting."

"You asked."

The first day of travel passed without incident. We made camp in a small clearing as darkness fell, using magical heating stones to ward off the mountain cold. Dinner was field rations, efficient but tasteless. We took turns keeping watch even though the area was supposed to be secure. Old habits from too many dangerous missions.

During my watch shift, I sat with my back against a tree and thought about what we were walking toward. Two weeks of training. Three stages, Perception, Contact, Severance. Each more dangerous than the last. Most people who attempted this died during Contact when their life force destabilized. Those who reached Severance usually died from the backlash when reality fought back.

Victoria had survived. Ezekiel had survived. That made two successful students in recorded history.

We were trying to make it four.

Adrian relieved me halfway through the night, settling into the watch position with practiced ease. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's a longer walk."

I moved to my bedroll, but sleep was difficult. My mind kept circling back to the training ahead. The pain Victoria had described. The feeling of becoming less real as you channeled life force into the narrative layer. The existential terror of having reality try to erase you.

Eventually, exhaustion won and I drifted into uneasy sleep.

The second day of travel was harder. The path grew steeper, the air thinner. By afternoon, we were navigating narrow mountain trails with sheer drops on one side. Adrian's SSS-rank endurance made the climb trivial for him, but even my S-plus rank conditioning was tested by the altitude and terrain.

We stopped for a break at a high overlook, looking down at the valley far below. From this height, Silvercrest was barely visible as a smudge on the horizon.

"Long way from home," Adrian observed.

"That's the point. Victoria said the training requires isolation from fate thread networks. The fewer connections to other people, the safer the learning process."

"Because each connection is another thread the Council can use to track us or interfere with training." Adrian took a drink from his water flask. "Smart. Paranoid, but smart."

As the sun began setting on the second day, we rounded a bend in the mountain path and saw it. The training facility.

It wasn't impressive architecturally. Just a collection of stone buildings built directly into the mountainside, looking ancient and weathered. But the wards covering it were spectacular. Even without magical sight, reality seemed to shimmer around the compound like heat haze. Powerful defensive magic, old and expertly maintained.

Victoria stood at the entrance, arms crossed, waiting. The black veins of corruption were more visible than before, spreading up her neck and across her face like a rot that couldn't be stopped. She looked tired, older, like the past week had aged her years.

"You're late," she said as we approached.

"We traveled conventionally to avoid tracking," I replied. "Took the long route through the mountains."

"Smart." She gestured at the facility behind her. "Welcome to the last training ground built by the resistance. Constructed two hundred years ago by people who understood what the Council was and wanted to fight back. Twenty-seven people have trained here. Four survived. You're going to be numbers twenty-eight and twenty-nine."

"Optimistic," Adrian said.

"Realistic. The technique kills most students. But you two are stronger and better prepared than most who've attempted this. You've got better odds than average." Victoria's expression was grim. "Still terrible odds, but better than most."

She turned and walked toward the facility entrance. "Come inside. We start tomorrow at dawn. Tonight, rest. Eat. Make peace with whatever gods you believe in. Tomorrow, we begin teaching you to cut threads that bind reality itself. After that, either you learn or you die."

"No pressure," Adrian muttered.

"All the pressure," Victoria corrected. "This is the most dangerous thing you'll ever attempt. Respect that or you're dead before we finish the first stage."

The facility interior was sparse but functional. Stone walls, wooden floors, basic furniture. Several rooms branched off a central hall - sleeping quarters, a dining area, a large training space, and what looked like a medical room with equipment I couldn't identify.

Victoria showed us to our rooms. "Sleep tonight. Tomorrow we begin Perception training. That's where most people break mentally. The ones who survive Perception usually make it to Contact. Contact is where most die. Severance..." She trailed off. "We'll deal with Severance when we get there. If we get there."

She left us alone to settle in.

My room was small and cold despite the heating wards. A bed, a desk, a chair. Nothing else. Monk-level simplicity. I unpacked the bare essentials and sat on the bed, processing the fact that training started tomorrow.

A knock at the door. Adrian entered without waiting for invitation, looking as unsettled as I felt.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

"Haven't tried yet. Too much nervous energy."

He sat in the chair, leaning back. "Elena made me promise to be careful. Seraphina told you not to die. Everyone's counting on us to succeed because if we fail, the resistance loses its leadership and the Council wins."

"Helpful. Very calming."

"I thought so." He was quiet for a moment. "Hadeon, if one of us dies during training."

"The other continues. We already agreed to that."

"I know. But I mean... if I die and you survive, tell Elena it wasn't her fault. Tell her I made the choice freely and I don't regret it."

"And if I die?"

"I'll tell Lucille you went down fighting fate itself, which is exactly how you'd want to go."

We sat in silence, two people on the eve of attempting something that would probably kill us. The gravity of it was overwhelming when actually acknowledged.

"Tomorrow," Adrian said eventually. "We start learning to see fate threads. Victoria said the mind tries to reject the information. That most people go mad during first contact with narrative structure."

"She also said she carved anchors into her own flesh to stay sane. We probably won't need to go that far."

"Probably."

"We've survived worse."

"Have we?"

Fair question. Had we survived anything worse than attempting a technique with a one in three mortality rate that required arguing with reality for the right to continue existing?

"We're about to find out," I said finally.

Adrian stood. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we either start the path to freedom or begin dying. Either way, we need rest."

After he left, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow at dawn. The beginning of training that would either grant us the power to cut fate threads or kill us in the attempt.

No middle ground. Success or death. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. Tomorrow, everything would change.

One way or another.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.