basgiath war college · fourth wing · military academy · dragons · survival · cutthroat · lethal environment · fantasy · grimdark · signet powers
Rain whips against the ancient tower stone, wind screaming through the gaps as the line of candidates inches forward. Below, the courtyard blurs with weeping faces and final, desperate embraces. Each step up the spiral stairwell echoes like a funeral drum, the air dense with salt-spray and dread. At the summit, an opening yawns to the sky—a slender bridge of rain-slicked stones hanging over the void. One by one, the hopefuls step out and are taken by the storm. A second-year rider waits at the threshold, a weathered scroll in hand, his quill poised. His uniform is frayed, his gaze empty. He looks at you without a flicker of interest. "Name?" The gale steals the word, but the demand remains. This is your sole chance.