I fell through nothingness, then landed on something soft. My eyes adjusted to a warm golden light flooding through tall windows. Not the harsh blue of core energy, but sunlight—real sunlight like in pre-Severance vids.
I stood in an enormous living room with vaulted ceilings and polished wooden floors. Plush couches, shelves lined with actual paper books, and a massive fireplace with flames dancing merrily inside. A home from another world. Another life.
"Amon? Could you help me with these groceries?"
Mom's voice. But different—stronger, healthier. She entered through a doorway carrying bags filled with fresh produce, not the processed synth-food we survived on. Her face glowed with vitality. No premature gray in her hair, no stooped shoulders from exhaustion, no rasping breath from core dust.
"Don't just stand there with your mouth open," she laughed. "These are heavy."
I moved automatically, taking the bags from her. Her hands were smooth—no chemical burns, no cracked skin from industrial cleansers.
"Thanks, honey. Your sister's upstairs finishing her project. Dinner in thirty."
She headed toward what must be the kitchen. I followed, stunned by the spaciousness, the gleaming appliances, the abundance of food. A far cry from our cramped apartment where we rationed every morsel.
"You okay?" Mom tilted her head, studying me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm fine," I managed. "Just... thinking."
"Well, think while you put these away." She smiled and handed me a bag of apples. Real apples. Not protein-enhanced substitutes.
Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and Miri burst into the kitchen. Not the Miri I knew—this one wore clothes that fit perfectly, her hair styled in an elaborate braid, no dark circles under her eyes from studying by insufficient light.
"Amon! Did you see what Dad brought me from his trip?" She thrust out her wrist, showing off a delicate silver bracelet.
"It's beautiful."
"He said I can start training with it next week! Ms. Ellington says I have the highest resonance test scores in my class!"
Mom ruffled Miri's hair. "Which still means homework before dinner."
"But Dad's coming home early today!"
"And he'll want to see your good grades."
Miri sighed dramatically but grinned. "Fine. Call me when dinner's ready!"
She dashed back upstairs, leaving me frozen in place. Dad. Coming home.
"Amon, the apples?"
"Right." I placed them in a bowl, movements mechanical. "Mom, when did Dad say he'd be here?"
"About fifteen minutes. Why?"
Before I could answer, the front door opened.
"Family! I'm home!"
That voice. Four years since I'd heard it outside of dreams and memories.
He walked into the kitchen, tall and broad-shouldered, his hunter jacket pristine instead of scorched and bloodied like the last time I'd seen it. His amber eyes—just like mine—crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
"There's my boy! How's the Academy treating you?"
Academy? In this reality, I attended an actual Awakening Academy?
Dad wrapped Mom in an embrace, kissing her deeply. She laughed against his lips.
"Kalen! Your son is right here."
"And old enough to know his parents are madly in love." Dad turned to me, arms open. "No hug for your old man?"
I moved forward, half-expecting him to dissolve into shadow. He felt solid as I crashed into him, burying my face against his shoulder like I used to as a child. His familiar scent—pine and something metallic that came from working with cores—filled my senses.
But something was wrong. Despite his warm smile and strong arms, a coldness emanated from him. Not physical—deeper, like standing near an open gate.
"Dad," I whispered, unable to say more.
He held me at arm's length, studying my face with an intensity that seemed out of place in this perfect scene. "You've grown strong, Amon. Stronger than I was at your age."
"I missed you." The words escaped before I could stop them.
A flicker of sadness crossed his features. "I know. But remember what I taught you?"
"Control the game, don't let it control you."
"That's right." His grip tightened on my shoulders. "And you need to control this, Amon. It's not too late for them."
He glanced toward Mom, who hummed as she prepared dinner, oblivious to our conversation.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"This isn't real. You know that, don't you?"
I pulled away. "It could be. It should have been."
"But it's not." His voice softened. "And you can't stay here."
"Why not?" I demanded, anger flaring. "Why can't I have this? Just this once?"
Dad looked at Mom again, then toward the stairs where Miri had disappeared. "Because they need you."
"They'd be better off without me."
"No." Dad's voice hardened. "None of that soft bullshit. You're stronger than that."
"How the hell would you know!?"
"You're my son." He placed a hand on my chest, right above my heart. The cold intensified. "And it's time to wake up."
"Dad—"
"Wake up, Amon."
The kitchen tilted. Mom turned toward us, her form blurring at the edges.
Nothing pushed me, but I fell backward, the perfect house dissolving around me—
Cold. Biting, vicious cold that cut through fabric and flesh straight to bone. I blinked, disoriented, staring up at a gray sky heavy with snow.
I lay flat on my back in a snowdrift, icy crystals clinging to my eyelashes. My breath formed thick clouds above me.
What the hell?
I sat up, wincing as frozen joints protested. Snow stretched in all directions, a vast white plain beneath a colorless sky. No buildings. No people. Nothing but endless winter.
This wasn't right.
The Academy manual had been clear: after submersion, candidates faced personalized trials corresponding to their affinities. Upon completion, they received their aspect classification, rank, and at least two abilities to start with.
I struggled to my feet, taking inventory. I wore heavy winter clothing—thick pants, thermal jacket, insulated boots, gloves. Better than my street clothes, but hardly adequate for this environment. The cold penetrated everything.
"Status," I muttered through chattering teeth.
A translucent panel appeared in my vision, most sections grayed out except for a single pulsing button: [QUEST].
No attributes. No abilities. No identification. Just a quest button and the timer hanging in the corner of my vision: 30:00:00:00.
I pressed the quest button.
DOMAIN TRIAL
THE HEART OF WINTER
You have awakened in Frostfall, a realm of eternal winter on the brink of the
catastrophic Great Freeze. You must reach the Temple of Echoes and overcome its Guardian to claim the Heart of Winter.
RESTRICTIONS:
All active aspect abilities are sealed for the duration of the trial
Death within the trial results in permanent trial failure
PRIMARY OBJECTIVES:
◉ Reach the Temple of Echoes within 30 days
◉ Overcome the Guardian's challenge
◉ Obtain the Heart of Winter artifact
FAILURE CONDITIONS:
Death during trial
Failure to reach Temple within 30 days
Rejection by the Guardian
CURRENT TIMER: 30:00:00:00 [DAYS:HOURS:MINUTES:SECONDS]
I read it twice. Three times. The words remained unchanged.
Timer trial. The rarest, most lethal type of Domain challenge. One percent of all trials, with a thirty percent survival rate even for well-prepared candidates.
And I had no abilities. No enhanced strength, speed, or senses. Nothing but standard human limitations in a realm designed to kill.
"This can't..." I looked around again at the endless snow. "This can't be right."
The status screen remained grayed out except for the quest information. No help there.
A bubble of laughter built in my chest, bitter and sharp. It burst from me in harsh, ugly sounds that echoed across the empty plain.
"Ha! Ha ha ha! HAHAHAHAHA!"
I doubled over, half-laughing, half-screaming into the frigid air. Of course this would happen. Of fucking course.
"Fifteen percent survival rate for Depths kids," I muttered, recalling Teller's statistics. "Ten percent for timer trials. What does that make me? One-point-five percent chance?"
The wind picked up, driving ice crystals against my face like tiny needles.
I forced myself to breathe, to think. Domain trials tested something fundamental about the candidate. If I'd been given this specific challenge, there had to be a reason.
The manual had mentioned timer trials included elements from standard categories—combat, puzzle, endurance, social, creation. This one seemed to emphasize endurance and navigation. Thirty days to cross an unknown frozen realm and reach a temple.
No abilities. Just me against this place.
I squinted, trying to make out any landmarks in the white expanse. Nothing but subtle variations in the snowdrifts. The wind obscured visibility beyond maybe fifty meters.
"Temple of Echoes," I murmured. "Heart of Winter."
No idea what either meant, but the goal seemed clear enough. Travel across this realm to reach a specific location within thirty days. Simple in concept, likely hellish in execution.
I checked my pockets, taking inventory of what I had: a small knife, flint, some kind of dried meat, a water skin, and a crude compass. Basic survival gear, but nothing special.
The compass needle spun lazily, never settling on a direction. Useless.
"Alright," I said to myself, "the first rule of being lost is to pick a direction and stick with it."
I studied the horizon, looking for any variation. To what might be north, I thought I detected a faint darkness—perhaps mountains or forests.
"North it is."
I took my first steps into the snow, legs already stiff from cold.
The wind howled, swirling snow around me. With each step, my boots sank ankle-deep into the white powder, making progress slow and exhausting.
"Control the game," I reminded myself, Dad's words from both memory and the false Domain vision. "Don't let it control you."
The timer in my vision showed 29:23:47:12 and counting down. Twenty-nine days, twenty-three hours, forty-seven minutes, and twelve seconds to reach a temple I couldn't see, in a realm I didn't understand, with no powers or abilities.
Perfect.
I trudged forward, head down against the wind. One step. Another. Each one a tiny victory against this world that seemed designed to kill me.
"Not for glory," I murmured the Depths prayer through numb lips, "not for wealth, just the strength to see tomorrow."
Tomorrow, and twenty-nine more after that.