Chapter 7 Rune
rune
. . .
It felt more like I was being held prisoner instead of taking an entrance exam.
Sterile metal walls boxed me in tightly, faintly humming with runes on the walls that I didn’t recognize. A single fae-like orb that was red and made of glass, not magic, hovered in the ceiling’s corner. It put out a soft, pulsing red glow.
The cold metal chair was uncomfortable, and a matching desk separated me from the woman sitting on the other side.
She’d introduced herself as Advisor Celine. She was an empath witch. She wore no uniform like the rest of the staff; instead, she wore a long, dark robe. Her silver braid twisted to the side with faintly glowing enchanted threads.
“Take a breath, Rune,” she advised with a soft smile. “There’s no need to be anxious. Let’s begin.”
“Sure.” I swallowed a lump in my throat and went to lean back before remembering there was no back on this chair. I forced myself to sit straighter.
The orb in the corner made an audible clicking noise, and the lights dimmed slightly, enough to sharpen the shadows behind Celine.
“What was the color of the sky the day you last fed?” she asked.
It sounded like a warm-up question, but the room pulsed with additional pressure. The air tightened around my ribs.
“Light gray with clouds,” I answered. “But I was in the simulator, if it makes a difference.”
The pressure receded like a breath exhaled.
The orb in the corner pulsed blue.
Ahhh, so the orb was a lie detector.
Celine’s lips twitched into a satisfied smile before thinning again. “Would you disobey a direct order to save a civilian child?”
Before I could answer, a holographic screen turned on between us, showing a child’s face. He couldn’t have been more than five with blue eyes, a bruised cheek, and a swollen lip.
I clenched my fists beneath the desk and fixed my eyes past the holographic onto Celine’s. “I’d follow my orders.”
The orb turned red, and the image changed to the child screaming as streaks of fire came from the air behind them.
“I would try to follow the orders I was given,” I admitted. “However, as long as it didn’t impact another life, I would disobey orders to save the child.”
She nodded once as the orb turned back to blue.
The projection dissipated.
“If telling the truth during a mission debrief will get you executed, but lying on it means betraying your oath and duty, which do you choose?”
I gave a small shrug. “The truth. Lying wouldn’t get me anywhere. The council keeps tight reins on its agents, so they’d know I was lying the moment it came out of my mouth.”
The orb stayed blue.
“Have you ever killed before?”
“Yes.”
The orb stayed blue.
“Will you kill again?”
“Probably,” I said.
The orb was still blue.
Her expression remained calm, but I caught the faint narrowing of her eyes. “If your mentor was compromised, and you were ordered to eliminate them, what would you do?”
“I—”
The room shifted, and I heard Jesper’s voice in my ear.
“Rune,” Jesper whispered. “Please. Don’t do this. You’re not their weapon.”
My heart stuttered. That…wasn’t real. Jesper wasn’t in here, and he wasn’t even my mentor. Though, I wanted him to be.
It felt so real that I nearly stood up, but Jesper wouldn’t say that. He knew an agent was the council’s weapon. He was a weapon, too.
I bit my tongue, sinking one fang into it until I tasted blood. My chest had seized with the weight of Jesper’s pleading. I dug my fingers around the edges of the chair.
Slamming my eyes shut, I whispered, “I would…verify if he was compromised.”
The thought of anything happening to Jesper fucked with me hard for some reason.
Celine’s smile didn’t move, but something behind her eyes sharpened. “The Council already verified. You’re wasting time. Orders are clear. Would you kill him?”
I lifted my chin. “I would still verify, and if I found he was truly compromised with nobody pulling the strings, I would have to delegate the mission. Some missions are too personal to take on.”
The orb slowly dimmed to a soft gold color, and the lights brightened.
My shoulders slumped slightly as my breath released all at once.
Celine leaned back in her chair, folding her hands over the table. The empathic field she’d been projecting all session dropped completely. I hadn’t even realized how deep it had gone until she stopped her magic.
“You held up well,” she told me. “Your instincts are sound. There are no signs of corruption, and your emotional control under stress was impressive.”
“I’ve had practice,” I muttered.
“More than most,” she agreed. “You passed.”
“Thanks.” My stomach growled hard enough to echo.
She smiled faintly and stood, smoothing the sleeves of her robe. “You’re cleared. Eat. Hydrate. Try to rest before the next portion of the exam. You’ve earned it.”