The other initiates sat in rapt silence as Lane stood, and Paxton handed her a sword. Carefully, she weighed it in her grip and nodded.

  Lane got to her feet, still in the circle as another name was called. “Tana Ferrick.” A female initiate stood and glared at Lane.

  Salamin watched and nursed his left hand. It hurt to clench his fist. He could still feel Elian’s eyes on him, gloating.

  Lane held the sword comfortably in her right hand, as the other female did the same. Salamin watched, wondering if Lane had received any training before.

  This match was a complete rout. Lane held the advantage from the first moment and came out on the attack. Tana never got her footing and didn’t know what hit her as she was driven back. One lunge forward and Tayne hit the floor. The entire fight didn’t last a minute.

  Lane glanced back at Salamin with a grin, and he nodded to her. Lane Reval was an accomplished fighter.

  Two more fights lasted longer, but soon the victors were declared and segregated from the defeated

  “Victors, come this way. Dinner will be served shortly.” Lane stole a glance at Salamin before being led away back through the doorway. Elian caught Salamin’s eye and smirked on his way out.

  Salamin watched them leave. There were just four of them now, standing in the empty hall. Paxton came back, and all heads turned to him.

  “You have been defeated before our great god Argor.” Paxton said from above. “Each of you will fast this day and meditate on how you can improve. Or you can leave. Right now, none of you have the skill to get through the Catacombs. You will have to prove your worth. Meditate upon that and tomorrow we will regroup. Anyone who wishes to leave the Initiation, please speak now.”

  The female initiate who faced Lane raised her hand.

  Paxton raised a brow. “Tana, daughter of Stefan, you wish to be excused?”

  Face reddening, Tana nodded emphatically.

  Paxton raised a hand in dismissal. “Good choice. You will be led to the outside the gates. Any others?” His eyes fell on Salamin, brows raised. Salamin faced him, unflinching. Paxton continued. “You will regret not taking this chance.” He snapped his fingers. “Igar will take you to your chambers.”

  Several mages in robes and hoods obscuring their faces enter the grand chamber. Salamin was led to another chamber, the door shutting behind him. A small oil lamp was the only light source in the bare room. Once again, the mages had made the oil short. It would soon burn out, and he’d be left in darkness.

  Salamin thought about his opponent and relived the fight. Elian’s strength had won above all. Salamin had to get his body stronger, and gain more strength on his path, but at the moment it all looked very bleak.

  He watched the flame and got into a meditative posture on the cold floor, the robe provided somewhat of a barrier. The wicker flashed and then once again, Salamin was plunged into darkness. The walls closed in on him, and with not a trace of light, he couldn’t see his hand in front of him. His stomach rumbled its displeasure, and Salamin felt the ache in his arm muscles. It had been some time since he’d wielded a sword.

  The darkness can be fought, he told himself. He closed his eyes and straightened his spine, as he sat cross legged on the floor. Focusing on his exhale, he cleared his mind of the defeat.

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  Nearby, he heard a yell, and a banging on the door. One of the young men who had also been defeated. Perhaps another initiate who decided this wasn’t worth it.

  The creak of a hinge, hushed voices and then the footfalls disappeared down the hall. There was silence once more, and a slight ringing in his ears. The absolute darkness pushed against him. He took one breath and then another. He’d lived so long with his body immobilized from the curse, but his eyes had beheld the sun and the stars. It had eased the pain. He reached for the orb tied around his thigh. No electricity pulsed within its depths.

  “You are a traitor,” the voice accused. “You will renounce your ways or be destroyed.”

  Haldar had gotten the better of him. A moment of weakness Salamin would regret forever. Betrayal. The curse burned through him, charring every inch of his skin, and he knew the end was near.

  He wanted to scream into the dark and bit his tongue until he tasted salty blood. He stood up, rubbing his arms. They were not on fire. It was just a memory. Haldar had taken everything, and now he was nothing.

  Salamin kept his eyes open and dug his fingers into his palms. He had to keep the memories at bay. He had to stay present, or insanity might just get the better of him.

  ***

  Lane took another bite of her taters, savoring the salty, delectable goodness. Her elbow rested on the grand table, with the three other initiates sitting apart from her. The dinner was amazing, and she’d worked up an appetite. Meat, taters, and a sweet drink that seemed to energize her mind and body. She’d never tasted anything like this. The gold bowls and plates alone were likely worth the land she was born on.

  The fire in the hearth crackled, and between the warmth, the food, and the new sword at her side, Lane felt ready for anything. And she told herself, more than ready to get back to her brother.

  The other initiates sat away from her. They all knew each other and purposefully excluded her from their conversations. Not that she wanted to be involved. Not at all.

  They were the sons and daughters of barons. Wealthy and connected. But it seemed they all shared a secret, and that was one thing she needed to find out.

  “I can’t believe Caden lost,” the girl Stara said, shaking her head. “No offense Parric, but he was trained by the Order itself.”

  Parric grinned as he held up his mug in salute and sipped. “Caden let the fear and pressure get to him.” He shrugged. “Not everyone is meant to join the Order.”

  “I heard the first test determines it all,” Stara said, slipping a stern gaze down towards Lane. “If you lose this first test, the odds of getting back alive diminish.”

  “No one is going to die,” Elian chimed in. “No one that matters anyway.”

  They all held up in their mugs in a toast.

  Lane took another bite watching them cautiously. There were definitely hiding something. That much she was certain.

  One young man scooted his chair back, and Lane looked up startled when he approached her. “You’re Lane?” he asked.

  “What did she do to her hair?” Stara whispered, but her voice carried.

  “Yes,” Lane said, wiping her hand on the red cloth napkin. “And you are?”

  “Parric Storm,” he gave a slight bow. He was of stocky build, but tall, with dark hair down to his shoulders. Perhaps from the Farlands, she thought. His light, translucent eyes stared right through her. Lane looked away.

  “Listen,” he said, gazing back at his comrades. “There’s no dishonor in leaving. There are only a few that can make it out of the Catacombs. Do yourself a favor and get out while you can. I have something for you, if you do.” He slipped some gems out of his pocket. They were high quality, and the green emeralds glimmered in the torchlight.

  “No thanks,” Lane said.

  Parric nodded amused, frowning back at the group. “You’ll regret that,” he said, shrugging.

  “Tana left,” Stara continued after a silence. “Do you think Caden and Kiles will make it through the night?”

  “Doubtful,” Elian said, glancing again at Lane. “And that Sedwick…” He paused, making a face, and there was light laughter. “There’s no way he’ll make it. He’ll be gone before sunrise.”

  “Are we taking bets?” Stara asked with a laugh.

  Lane’s face burned. Why did she have any feeling either way? She remembered the panic Sal had endured the night before. Was he going through it again? Maybe he wouldn’t make it. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. She was going to do this with or without him. Yet, Aleda believed in him.

  She pushed her plate away, and squeezed her eyes shut. Aleda had been the last link to her mother. The last grasp of the few memories she had, were now gone. She hadn’t left Aleda on the best of terms either. Who knew that would be the last time she saw her?

  High mage Paxton walked back into the grand hall, his eyes greeting each of them with a nod. “Has everyone had their fill?”

  There were nods around the table. “Follow me,” Paxton said. “We’ll prepare for tomorrow’s lesson.”

  As the others stood to follow, Lane hesitated, then hurried after.