Salamin got up on his knees, still reeling from the dark spells of the mage’s sword. The energy was dissipating, and it took a moment to catch his breath.

  The mage was dead, and now the other mages swarmed around him, moving Salamin back.

  “Get the initiates to their rooms. Put Sedwick Draken in isolation,” Paxton hissed.

  Two mages grabbed Salamin’s shoulders, and another grabbed his sword. He looked back and saw Lane before being herded out of the hall.

  “Get in there,” the mage growled, and shoved him deep into the lightless chamber.

  The door slammed, then locked, and the darkness fell over him. He slid down to the ground and felt the cold floor with his palms. They didn’t bother with the oil lamp. In the darkness, he saw words form in his mind.

  [Tier 5] [You have been granted Touch]

  Sedwick Draken ? Moonpath Tier 5 ? Class Paladin

  Health 20/100 ? Intelligence 30/100 ? Power 5/100 ? Stamina 30/100

  Abilities: lunapassus (Minor Healing Spell) Oblivio (Confusion) Getore (Shield) Touch (Transfer)

  His health had decreased, and if Lane had not given him that food, he was not sure he would have prevailed. But he was gaining abilities, limited though they were. Of them all, Touch had saved his life.

  Still, he was not sure what consequences he’d have for killing one of their own. Salamin was certain that he’d soon find out. Something sharp poked him from his tunic pocket. He reached in and saw the needle he'd taken from Aleda. If only he'd had time to learn more from her. Poking his finger on the sharp edge, he let the blood bubble up and wiped it on the tunic. She'd used this needle on the spell. More mysteries he needed to uncover. He placed it back in his pocket.

  He leaned his back against the stone wall, and in the darkness, the faces of those he’d killed came unbidden to his mind. One after another, they came. Salamin squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palms against his eyes to stop the onslaught.

  His breathing became shallow, though he tried to center himself. He thought of his master, his teacher, and tried to empty his mind of thoughts. Center. Breathe. Enter the void. He repeated those words over and over for what felt like an eternity, pushing away the images of lifeless eyes staring at him.

  A knock on the door broke the agony. Light poured into the dark chamber.

  Salamin turned, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Paxton stood in the doorframe, his brown robes, bushy brows hanging over his stern gray eyes. A larger mage stood just behind him, casting a shadow into the chamber.

  “Bring him to my chambers,” Paxton ordered. The other mage nodded with a bow, and Salamin was helped roughly to his feet.

  They followed behind Paxton down the grand hall to a flight of steps, the mage grasping Salamin’s arm roughly. His legs burned as he was pulled up the steps.

  Salamin was pushed through the door and stumbled into the entrance. The circular window behind his desk overlooked Parmouth and the distant mountains.

  Inside, rows of jars and chalices lined the walls, each with strange substances inside. An intricate system of pipes and tubes stretched over a wooden table with a bubbling white potion within. Sulphur permeated the stone walls, along with a metallic odor that invaded the nose. Standing behind a desk filled with open leather books, Paxton drew out a wand.

  The chamber's door closed behind and Salamin stood alone.

  “Tell me, Sedwick Draken, how does a random Initiate defeat a Tier 10 Mage?”

  Salamin stood, eyes forward, saying nothing.

  Paxton frowned, tapping his lips with his fingers. “Sedwick Draken. I feel the name should mean something. And yet, I have come up with nothing.” He squinted his eyes at Salamin. “Who are you?”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Salamin inclined his head, nodding, taking in a deep breath. The truth, yet not the entire truth. “The house of Draken,” he began, searching the young boy’s memories. “I left to seek my fortune.”

  The mage’s eyes sparkled. “Yes, a house dedicated to Argor. That would explain, and yet…” His words trailed off.

  Sedwick stood still, sneaking a glance back at the mage behind him. Aleda’s spell so far remained intact. The Order could not comprehend his connections or see through his true nature.

  Paxton stood tall and took the wand in his right hand. “Revelay!” he shouted as pure light left the end of the wand and hit Salamin straight in the chest.

  For a brief moment, Salamin could not breathe. He could not move. The light filtered down from his chest and upward into his head. It was searching, learning.

  Then it dissipated and released its clutch. Salamin drew a breath of sweet fresh air into his lungs.

  Paxton nodded. “Sedwick Draken. Oathless. No class. No power. Agility minimal as well as intelligence. Your health is where it is expected after the chamber. No abilities. And yet,” he paused and frowned. “The spell never lies. I’ll be watching you Initiate Sedwick. If you are hiding anything from me, there will be severe consequences.” His eyes squinted at Salamin. A deep, hard gaze. Salamin held his breath as tendrils of energy snaked around his mind, and then finally dissipated.

  “I should send you to the Order for judgment,” Paxton said, his hand stroking his beard. “However, I blame myself for this fiasco. Mage Stefan was not ready. That is the only thing keeping you alive right now. Mark my words, you will pay for taking his life, Initiate Sedwick. You owe me, and I will come for it, and you will be ready. The Catacombs are the great equalizer. Remember that.”

  Salamin bowed his head. Silently, he sent a thanks to Aleda. The spell she’d done had saved him once again and had blocked a powerful spell. There’d be consequences for killing one of their own.

  Paxton motioned for him to be dismissed and attended to a parchment on his desk. He was done. The mage behind Salamin grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the hall.

  He was not taken back to his chamber, but led to a spacious dining room, with a long table spread with food and drink. Salamin’s mouth watered at the breads, meats and ale before him.

  Elian and Lane were at the table their plates of meat and taters. The defeated initiates were nowhere to be seen. They were likely undergoing the chambers. Salamin shuddered.

  Standing, Elian raised a glass to Salamin. “You were lucky today. Extremely lucky”

  Lane chewed her food, gazing between the two with wide eyes.

  “It was luck,” Salamin said, digging into the food with a fork. “I’m sorry about your friends.”

  Elian shrugged. “They’ll muddle through. They deserve punishment for their failures, and it will make them stronger. I intend to never to go through it.” He sipped from his cup and smiled. “Like, Lane, we are undefeated.”

  Salamin nodded. Elian and Lane had been lucky indeed. He gulped down the water in the cup, and then at the food, feeling a renewed energy.

  Lane’s eyes were locked on his. He saw the questions in her eyes.

  “I don’t think anyone deserves those chambers,” Salamin said at last, wiping his hands on a cloth napkin.

  “I defeated you easily,” Elian said, his eyes squinting. “How you killed that mage, and why you haven’t been taken to the Order for Judgement is beyond me.”

  Salamin shook his head.

  Elian eyed him and nodded. “They will find a way to make you pay. Right now, you need allies.” He paused with his fork raised. “Only a few survive the catacombs, and I intend to be one of them,” Elian said. “Even if that means others must die. Only the strong survive.”

  Salamin stopped eating and held up a hand. “Having strength means you protect others.”

  Elian gave a dry chuckle. “You have a lot to learn about the world, young one.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw it on the table. “They will send us to the Catacombs,” he said with a contented sigh, “and there will be others chosen from around the realms. The only way to survive is to be on the right team, with the right team leader, do you understand?”

  Taking another bite of his food, Salamin listened. Survival meant getting into the Order, but at what cost?

  Elian turned to Lane. “I can tell you are both from the Farlands, or even beyond.” He gave her a half smile. “Your accents give you away. You’re a long way from home.” Elian paused, his voice lowered. “They are leading you into the Catacombs to be slaughtered. You are the sacrifice, Lane. But the higher houses, their children are given the key to the first gate. I wouldn’t want to be in there without it.” He set his napkin down. “Swear loyalty to the right person, and your way will be safe..”

  “Caden was one of yours. They almost sacrificed him.,” Salamin replied.

  A dry laugh escaped Elian’s lips. “Oh no, he’s a commoner. His father is a blacksmith.” He frowned in disgust. “Where you are born determines your place in life. Determines everything. You know it’s true.”

  Elian stood and gazed out of the windows towards the town of Parmouth. “I’ll give you two days to decide whether you want to be allies or die at the first gate.” He eyed them, his fingers tapping on the table. “Time is running out. Choose wisely.” He inclined his head to Lane and left the dining hall.

  “What is he’s talking about?” Lane whispered, watching him leave.

  “The children of the high houses are given advantages,” Salamin said. “Those without it, have likely been sacrificed. I don’t trust him, or his offer of protection.”

  Lane’s gaze was far away, and finally, she nodded.