Chapter 12
Imake it to the town hosting the last trial, just outside of the Gildorea Universitás of War.
Doraan. At one point, I was certain the journey itself would kill me.
Alone, with echoes from the Ethereal Maze of Whispers taunting me, filleting my mind into broken slivers since there's nothing left of my heart to destroy.
One night, I even tried to cry again, to let myself grieve.
I lowered my shields, freeing my emotions from the broken mosaic-star window.
I sat there as grief gutted where my heart should be, ripping through my ribs like a ravenous beast. I screamed.
I wailed. I pleaded to the Celestials to ease the suffocating weight of unfelt emotions as I punched the cold soil until my fists shredded into a bloody mess.
But not a single fucking tear.
The rest of the journey, I was a hollow ghost, a husk. Too broken to even grieve properly. Thankfully, I found some work as the local blacksmith in Doraan to distract my fractured self while waiting for my assigned slot for the third trial. And to afford my drab accommodations in the bustling city.
As I unpack, a little orange blur runs out of my bag.
“You have got to be kidding me! You’ve been a stowaway all this time?”
For being bright orange, the little dragon is exceptionally good at hiding and so fast, I can barely see it. I pull out some bread and lure it out from under the bed. In the shadows, it almost seems to change shape.
Odd.
The creature scurries out, snatching the food in its mouth, and then runs up my arm to the top of my head, messing up my hair, before crumbs tumble down my face.
I cross my arms and huff. Not this again.
I shoot my hands up towards him, trying to catch him.
The creature does his avoidant dance, continuing to mess up my hair.
“I guess you’re coming with me to work then, little guy?” I don my cloak as he scuttles down to my shoulders, hiding at the nape of my neck. He’s too quick for me to catch. I sigh; I guess that means I’m stuck with him.
I head over to the blacksmith forge and get my work done for the day.
To my surprise, the creature stays on my shoulder, and no one notices him.
I guess city folk are just too wrapped up in their own lives to look up around them.
I stay at the forge to start on a new short sword since I lost mine in the battle with the Pykavow.
It’s quiet now, and most of the city has bustled off to bed. The little creature scurries down to my hand, appearing very interested in what I’m doing. Almost inspecting my work. The audacity of this little fellow.
He scurries around, here and there, very curiously moving his way through the tools.
As I beat the metal, he slips into a trance, mesmerized by the blade taking shape.
Then, I lift the metal, setting it back in the forge for reheating before finalizing its shape.
The creature crawls up the metal, spitting a puff of flames.
Silver flames curl, the steel instantly glowing red.
My eyes grow wide. “I guess that works, too.” I pause, appreciating the blade heated to the perfect temperature in one breath. “Thanks.”
The metal is so hot, it bends easily beneath my hammer, each strike shaping a beautifully shaped short sword in record time.
The blade glimmers orange in the light, resonating with a subtle hum, a sound I’ve never heard before.
I move to smelt the simple hilt onto the blade.
The creature leaps up, exhaling a small blast of fire on it, with some added threads of dangling liquid spit.
The ridiculous sight cracks a laugh from my hollow chest.
He looks up at me, a happy crinkle around his four cobalt eyes; one might almost call it a smile.
“Okay, I think we’re done for the night, little drago—”
The air rips from my lungs as the words sink in. Yet the creature doesn’t give me a chance to tumble into my thoughts, scampering up my arm and wrapping around my neck again, like the strangest scarf I’ve ever worn.
I haven’t really felt any emotion since I left the Amberwood.
A whisper of sadness blends with a delicate happiness. Almost as if Sully is here with me after all. Reincarnated in this strange little orange dragon, who refused to leave my side since offering him a sandwich at Sully’s grave.
It’s the day of my final trial, and I’m scrambling to get my little dragon sidekick to stay in the room so I can leave.
“Stay here, Pipsqueak. You cannot come with me to the trial. You’ll get me disqualified.” I snatch him up and plop him onto the bed as I walk to the bathroom to cover the gold flecks on my cheeks, finishing the kohl under my eyes that swoops up at the edges.
And guess where Pip is by the time I finish my makeup? Right on top of my head, messing up my hair. I’ve gotten quicker at catching him, but when he doesn’t want to be caught, he’s positively impossible. I find myself wondering how Sully stayed so patient with me for all those years.
“You cannot come with me. They will see you and lock you up.”
He tilts his head to the side, looking at me in the mirror, then twists down to my neck and wraps himself around it. Before my eyes, he changes into a dark cobalt-blue scarf.
I blink, rubbing my eyes as I gaze into the mirror. My fingers run along the scarf to reveal four cobalt eyes opening up, looking back at me. I jump.
Pip chirps happily, and then his eyes flutter shut.
He appears exactly like a regular scarf.
My brain hurts trying to wrap my head around what I’ve just witnessed.
I’ve never heard of a creature who can change into inanimate objects.
Sully trained me on all the known, catalogued mystical creatures, a vital part of my entrance exam before I officially become an ensign at Universitás.
Our continent is full of creatures, but it’s possible we haven’t catalogued them all.
“I suppose you can come with me, Pip, but you can’t move an inch while we’re there. No matter what they try to do to me.” He chirps in a tone that I hope is agreement.
It’s an unusually warm autumn day, making my new scarf appear a little out of place. I walk through the edge of town along the pathway that leads up to Gildorea Universitás of War.
Even from here, the white marble campus, topped in gold, sparkles in the sunlight. The multi-tiered walls cascade down the hill it’s carved into, like layered terraces of a cake. As I journey closer, each layer comes into focus, like steps climbing a slope.
The campus is diamond-shaped. The top, flat edge of the diamond is along the eastern rocky cliffs of Cascara, meeting the ocean far below.
This border holds the heart of Gildorea, the Grand Conservatory, a large circular building of white marble decorated with three balconies.
The rotunda, capped with a golden dome, is adorned with an eight-pointed star, an ancient symbol thought to mark the Celestials’ blessing.
This building is where most classes are held.
Extending out from the cupola, on either side, are ornate multi-tiered walls, meeting spires tipped in gold.
These wings are brimming with the offices and homes of those who work for the school.
The wings meet the diagonal, multi-tiered walls, coming to a point facing west. Their tops are decorated with extravagant penthouses, reserved for powerful Bloodline pairings, ensuring the next generation of Ellian Knights.
The many floors below are cozy with dormitories for ensigns.
You can enter through the walls framing the central diamond-shaped courtyard one of two ways: the stairs of the main entryway or the north and south archways.
On the outermost and lowest tier, lined with round-arched entryways, are the buildings that house Faelings raised by the Maidens.
They raise the offspring of Bloodline pairings of Ellian Knights, so our precious warriors are not taken from battle.
There is, of course, the option for Knights to request to be stationed at or nearby Gildorea to be a part of raising their offspring.
This is a rare occurrence in newer generations; those who sought this life understand this obligation as the military tactic to increase our power, to even the playing field against the Wuvon.
Most of the Ellian Knights today have been raised by the Maidens, not their biological parents.
I’m destined for a location through the columns below the entry courtyard, which leads to the underbelly of the campus, housing the infirmary, holding cells, interrogation rooms, and barracks for the infantry—those who become meat-shields as our first line of defense.
It’s unsettling to think you can pass all three trials and still end up there if you fail the magical entrance exam.
I shove the thought out of my head; fear can kill your mind if you let it, especially when walking into my last trial, which is all about mind games.
I can’t let emotion tear me from the only thing I have left to keep me going.
Powerful emotions are the quickest way for your mental shields to falter.
The fact that I hate emotion—and the lack of control associated with it, instead enjoying the comfort of being numb—is part of why I know I will succeed in this last trial.
You have to show the capacity to resist a trained Persuasive to be further trained on the subject.
Wuvon are known to all have a strong capacity for exceptional mindwork.
They can pull out your deepest secrets, obtain confidential information on battle strategies and Ellian Knights’ unique magic.
Some even control the ability for compulsion; they can inhabit your mind, controlling you like a puppet, even at long distances. The ultimate infiltration tool.