Klay realized he was dreaming, a ghostly echo of the past that had haunted his sleep for eight long years. His dreamscape was always the same—terrible black fire. The sinister flames devoured everything in sight, leaving behind a path of smoldering destruction and despair. His peaceful village was set ablaze, homes crumbling into ruin and once-lush trees standing as charred and ashen husks. The villagers scattered, a tide of panicked bodies fleeing from the epicenter of the chaos, where two figures were locked in a fierce duel.

One was a towering figure with pale-blonde hair that danced with the black fire enveloping him, his eyes burning with a wild fury as he faced his adversary. The other, a trembling older man, bore the radiant symbol of the Dauntless—a nine-pointed purple star—on his back. A similar purple glow surrounded him, a protective aura that seemed to hold back the encroaching flames. His raging wind barrier shielded the villagers from the onslaught of the blaze. This was Atticus Ren, Klay's grandfather.

Despite the sorrow brimming in his eyes, Atticus managed a reassuring smile toward his grandsons. He tried to communicate something, but the nightmare robbed his words of sound. Klay could only feel raw fear and helplessness as Finn yanked him away.

As the nightmare played out following its tragic script, the pale-haired man transformed into a grotesque monstrosity under the influence of the dark flames. Atticus held his ground, meeting the gaze of the beast while signaling to Klay and Finn. Suddenly, the monster unleashed a tidal wave of black fire towards Atticus. The older man vaulted into the air to meet his foe. Their clash resulted in a brilliant explosion of light, and then everything descended into darkness.

Klay woke with a start. His heart pounded frantically as he scanned the room, his hand instinctively reaching for the charred bracelet around his wrist. The touch of the worn artifact, blackened by the same dark flames from his dream, eased his terror. He took deep, measured breaths, counting each one until he had centered himself. After the eighth breath, he pushed off his covers and rose to his feet.

The morning light streamed through the open window, casting fragmented beams onto the disheveled room.

In one corner, an empty bed lay under a cloak of dust, a neglected pile of books stacked at its foot. They were remnants of Finn's presence, untouched since his departure for Akademos three years prior. Above Finn's empty bed hung a poster, bold print proclaiming, "Finn's Stuff! Don't touch, Klay!" However, two letters 'n' and 't' had been crossed out, effectively inviting Klay to do the opposite. Beside the poster, a calendar hung with a date circled multiple times and the word "Akademos" scrawled across it.

A small table stood in the middle of the room, cluttered with remnants of everyday life—an unwashed plate, an open book, and a small stack of unopened letters. On top of this pile was a singular, unsealed letter. Its elegant grey font seemed to hover above the paper: "Congratulations, Klassius Ren. You have been invited to Gran Akademos, the school of Grand Arts." The grey seal of Gran Akademos, a shield embossed with a sword, staff, and olive branch, was prominently displayed above the text. Below the seal, the school's motto—"Discipline. Camaraderie. Success."—served as a stark reminder of its prestigious reputation. The letter concluded with a stern instruction: "Please note that the presentation of this invitation upon entry is required."

Klay approached, his eyes skimming over the letter. A determined smile crept onto his face as he whispered, "Finally."

In a flurry of activity, Klay got dressed and hastily packed his bag with clothes and leftover food. He went back to the small table, picked up the open book, and tucked it into his bag. After one last sweeping glance around the room, he felt ready to embark on his journey to the school of Grand Arts.

In the wake of that dreadful night eight years ago, the village of Wailen had been painstakingly reconstructed. The Ren home was rebuilt, but it remained vacant, as the Ren brothers couldn't bring themselves to sleep there. Instead, with the help of Rayel LeFlare, the Inferno guardian, they erected a modest cabin on the outskirts of the village. This had been their refuge, a place to recover after enduring Rayel's grueling training sessions.

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As Klay looked around the room, a wave of melancholy washed over him along with the nagging sensation that he was forgetting something. But after a few moments of fruitless pondering, he shrugged it off. "If it were important, I'd remember it," he reasoned, closing the door behind him.

He made his way down the short dirt path leading to Wailen, coming to a stop before a cluster of smooth, weather-worn stones. Their surfaces, streaked with alabaster, held a quiet dignity that mirrored their significance. Klay knelt before the stones, closing his eyes and whispering a prayer.

"Well, I'm on my way. And now that I'm strong"—he gave his bracelet a gentle squeeze—"I promise I'll make you proud. Oh, and I'll say hi to the butthead for you. See ya, Grandpa." With that, he rose to his feet and sprinted down the dirt path.

"Good luck, Klay!" A woman called out as she swept dead leaves off the front of her house.

"Thanks, Ms. Linsky!" Klay waved back, nearly colliding with another villager.

"Klay!" The man huffed, regaining his balance. "How many times have I told you to watch where you're going?"

"Sorry, Mr. Vascol!" Klay called out in apology without breaking stride. He smiled as he heard Mr. Vascol grumble something about him needing to grow up.

At the outskirts of the village, Klay found his two friends staring up at the sky. "Hey guys, thanks for seeing me off," he called, slowing to a walk. But the two remained captivated by the sky above. He followed their gaze, puzzled. "What's up there? What are you looking at?" The boys remained unresponsive. "Guys?"

"Ignore them, Klay. They're just being overly dramatic," chimed in a new voice.

Klay turned to see Jun, a young woman cradling a small basket. Her long hair was woven into a braid and adorned with a simple brown ribbon. Despite the years since the attack on the village, the burn scar on her neck was still visible.

"Looks like you're all packed up," she said, giving him a warm hug.

"Yup, I'm all set to go," Klay said, returning her hug. He gestured towards his friends. "So, what's their problem?"

"You are!" Niko confessed, dropping his act and facing Klay with trembling lips. "You don't have to be so happy about leaving us, you jerk. Why do you get to g—"

Tyre cut him off with a sharp jab to the side. "Man up and stop crying, Niko. It's your fault you didn't get an invitation."

"Shut up! I'm not crying; you're crying," Niko retorted, jabbing Tyre back. "And for the record, I'm way stronger than you. I bet I was much closer to getting a letter than you were."

"Oh yeah?" Tyre challenged.

"Yeah," Niko shot back.

Jun laughed softly, watching the two boys bicker. "See, they're just upset you're leaving, and they can't come with you," she explained to Klay.

"Oh ok," Klay sighed with relief. "I thought they finally lost their minds. Still, I'm surprised they didn't receive an invitation, especially after all the training we did together."

"Training you tried to do together," Jun corrected. "They could never quite keep up."

Klay nodded, smiling again. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

"So, Klay, do you have everything you need?" Jun asked.

Klay nodded confidently. "Yup."

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"Pretty sure," Klay answered, but his confidence faltered when Jun reached into her basket and pulled out an envelope with a familiar grey seal.

"Okay. If you're sure, then I guess I'll hang onto this," she said, waving the letter in front of him. "My invitation!" Klay exclaimed, quickly snatching it from her. "How did you...?"

"Finn," Jun replied with a laugh. "He said to remind you."

Klay frowned. "Of course, he did."

Jun's expression turned serious. "He said it's very important, Klay. You won't be let in without it."

"I know, I know," Klay assured her, tucking the letter safely into his bag. "I'll be fourteen in a month, I'm practically an adult. The butthead needs to stop treating me like a child."

Jun just laughed. "Well it's only because he cares about you. He seems to be doing well at Akademos."

"Yeah, I know," Klay grumbled. "I feel sorry for the poor people who have to put up with him."

Ignoring Klay's complaints, Jun reached back into her basket and pulled out a piece of paper. "He also gave me this to give to you. He said it's a map, so you don't get lost."

"I'm not going to get lost," Klay protested, but he took the map anyway. He had initially planned to ask for directions along the way until he reached Kneola. Reluctantly, he acknowledged that a map would be more helpful. "Thanks."

Jun paused momentarily, her gaze falling wistfully onto her basket. When she noticed Klay's curious stare, she blushed and quickly looked away.