Interlude
INTERLUDE
T he student rubbed his hands together, swallowing hard. His shoulders were hunched over in an attempt to protect him from the driving rain. The fabric of his cloak was already soaked through, his hood sodden and heavy with water, melding to his skull.
Overhead, lightning cracked, followed by the distant rumble of thunder. A dim golden light illuminated the stone tower in front of him, radiating from the lantern clasped in the hand of the hooded figure to his left.
“You don’t have to do this,” the figure called, their words whipped away by the wind. “It’s dangerous.”
“You said I would be accepted. I won’t give in, not when it’s within my grasp. I can do this.”
“John. Please be careful.”
“I will.” The student took a deep breath, curling his fingers around the rough fibres of the rope. He tugged on it, making sure it could take his weight and noting how his hands slipped on the coarse material. There were knots at regular intervals, which would make the climb easier, but it would still be fraught with danger.
He looked up, the rain instantly soaking his lashes, stinging his skin. The top of the bell tower was barely visible in the dark. As he stared upwards, lightning cracked the sky again, and the tower appeared in relief for a brief second before plunging into darkness again.
A faint yellow light appeared far above him. There it was. The sign. His destination and his future. This was the most difficult part of his initiation ritual. Once he’d made it to the top of the tower, he’d complete the blood pact, and then he would be one of the Brotherhood. He would finally belong.
Lowering his head again, he gripped the rope more firmly and began to climb.