The northern forests blazed with the rich colors of late autumn. Crimson maples stood beside golden birches, while cool winds carried fallen leaves across Bloodstone's winding roads. Harvest had nearly concluded, and the valley settled into the quieter rhythm that always preceded winter. Yet beneath the peaceful landscape, invisible currents continued to shift. For every lesson learned, someone else was preparing a test.
Master Aldren entered the Learning Hall carrying an old wooden bucket with a tiny hole near its base. The students immediately noticed the slow drip of water falling onto the stone floor. Without a word, the old scholar filled the bucket completely and placed it upon the central table. The steady, rhythmic dripping continued to mark the passing seconds.
"What should we do?" Aldren asked, his gaze sweeping across the room.
"Seal the hole!" one student answered quickly.
"Empty the bucket!" another suggested from the middle row.
