I roll my shoulders back, feeling the comfort of my staff between my shoulder blades. I cannot help but chuckle at the fact that a weapon is a source of comfort instead of a lute strap or particularly challenging stanza in a Telling. Oh, how far I’ve come.
“Humans, Elves, and Underlings, welcome!” Elder Superior Markus’s voice is amplified. “We are gathered here on the 225thanniversary of the Northern Continent New World Treaty.
“Long ago, our ancestors melded a fractured society, one riddled with war and famine. Territory lines were drawn, and we agreed upon one thing: that we cannot continue our battle against one another when a greater threat lies to the south.”
The crowd responds with murmurs of agreement and hisses at the mention of the Southern Continent. For the past fifty years, there has yet to be an attack, though rumors of gathering forces keep the Watch eagerly awaiting fresh recruits.
“Today, we gather again in recognition of this treaty. As a show of good faith to our allies, we humans agreed to host the Summit Championship every twenty-five years. We believe in transparency. That one race is not superior to another. This is why we invite our brethren into our home. Delegates”—there is a pause; Markus must have turned to address the visiting royals—“in solitude of our role in the Breaking, we offer up our very best to compete for a prize. We invite you to observe their skill and select a cadet from today’s Presentation as your champion for the Summit. Choose wisely, for the winning sponsor receives a gift far more precious than the Helios Blessing. As per custom, the winning sponsor has first negotiation rights in the re-signing of the Peace Treaty, a treaty we deeply respect and uphold.”
His lies grate against my bones. Markus wants the humans on top of society once again, like before the treaty, when legends of metal machinery and weapons so great were cracking open the world for the second time.Thatis what created the Summit. Not good faith, but a way for the other races to hold humans accountable for their actions, check up on our military under the guise of a competition. This is all a show for power.
But that doesn’t make my need for the Helios Stone any less real.
“Today is the Presentation. Where hopefuls await to demonstrate their Source channeling skills and physical prowess.”
The crowd yells all at once, proudly cheering the names of cadets around me. No one yells my name, so I whisper it quietly to myself and pat the small piece of Marrow’s Teller cloak I put inside the breast pocket of my fighting leathers.
“Chin up. Make me proud. Gryphon, you are first, boy.” Hogsmith pats the back of a burly second-stone Moon’cher holding a longsword nearly the length of my leg. The Commander guides Gryphon around the half wall and into the main stage of the theater where the Presentation demonstration takes place.
The sun begins to set to our left, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. I hop up and down a few times to keep the chill away while I wait, though my nerves are enough to shield me from the plummeting temperature.
Every few minutes, Hogsmith returns, guiding the next cadet into the arena. Each of my friends are escorted around the curved stone wall. Castor has near solidmysttendrils that can rip apart Underlings twice his size and dual blade skills to match. Leaf’s longsword and precision with archery is impressive by even Elven standards. Ramona is downright terrifying when she starts spinning daggers in her hand, not to mention her quick throwing skills and silver tongue.
I, however, have still been struggling to keep up during Intro to Talent and Elementation, barely getting by with even the easiest of Sun’cher spells. History of the Watch comes easy to me with my quick memory, but that won’t serve me here. So what I lack in my Source channeling, I will amplify tenfold in the physical part of my Presentation.
I just have to stick to my plan.
My staff presses along the column of my spine, giving me no option but to stand tall.
“Akemi, you are up next.” Hogsmith leads me around the corner and into the bright orb lights of the amphitheater, full of blinking eyes hungry for action and entertainment.
Lucky for them, I’m an entertainer.
I shrug away any remnants of self-doubt and follow the commander around the half-wall out onto the field. The ground is hard-packed and frozen under my tight-laced boots. If not for thesolarys shieldabove, it would be covered with snow. The entire floor level of the arena is circled by practice targets and hay-stuffed dummies, objects likely for the cadets to use as a part of their Presentations. The crowd cheers distinctly in the back of my mind. My vision tunnels, honing in on the long stone table at the edge of the arena where the royal sponsors sit.
I step across a chalked white line and into the arena, now illuminated by floating orbs against the darkening sky. A twinge of panic bubbles as the sun descends low on the horizon, making it harder for me to channel its magic. But as the brightest stars begin to peek through the twilight, I find my resolve, pretending that I’m back in the Rose & Raven during one of my weekly Tellings. The lights are turned down low, the audience of five—Row, Bane, Nickel, and maybe a few townsfolk that happened to stop by for a pint—waiting anxiously for me to start.
This is just another stage.
Elder Hightail stands from her place at the end of the stone table. “First, we would like to see your Source channeling display, Cadet Nox.” Like Markus before, her raspy voice echoes loudly throughout the space.
I feel a pull to the stands, as if gravity itself shifted, urging me forward. Without having to look, I know the source of the heavy presence watching me.
It’s him.
The Underworld Lord of Terraguard, Atlys, leans forward expectantly. His white hair falls forward over his face as he rests his elbows on his knees. The pressure of his silver-flecked stare sending goosebumps along my arm even at this distance. Coredivers, clad in black leathers, stand behind him protectively.
I snap the invisible cord tethering my attention to the Underworld Lord and return to myself mentally. The crowd is louder now, growing more impatient for my Presentation to start. Some of their jokes are loud enough for me to hear. They pick on my small stature, murmuring insults or other less than desirable comments about my body, my upbringing, or unconventional background as a Teller.
I let their judgemental whispers fly over me, like giant rocs.
They will not bring me down.
An undercurrent of nerves swirls inside, but I stifle it quickly, letting the fire, the anger, in my soul rise in its place. Anger I’ve been conditioned to suppress my whole life.
This ismystage.
Slowly, I scan each royal delegate in the eyes until I settle on the beast who killed Marrow… and begin.
