Chapter 8: Initiation

Charon raced through the steel hallways, the book tucked under his arm. Skidding to a stop at an intersection, he glanced down at the holo-pad. Noting the red trail pointing to his right, he veered in that direction. Just moments earlier, he had received a notification that the entire student body was to gather in the great hall for initiation. Unsure where that was, he had fiddled with the machine until it projected a map, highlighting the path he needed to take, as well as how long he had until the event began. Seven minutes. Seven minutes for him to make it almost halfway across the academy, hauling the heavy tome the entire way. ’It’s like this thing is made of bricks!’ Approaching a closed door, he stuck his holo-pad as far out from his body as he could. The moment it got within range, the door opened with a chime, Charon narrowly making it through the growing gap without slowing down. A few more similar junctions, and he found himself surrounded by dozens of other students rushing to the great hall. Each of them wore a dark robe with a white notch on their hood; everyone except Charon. He stood out like a sore thumb, something he noticed after the fifth dirty look. The throng of bodies quickly grew too dense to run through, forcing him to control his pace or risk crashing into someone. With less than a minute left, he finally broke through into the colossal great hall. It was shaped like a box, with rings of bright lights hanging from the walls, illuminating the stage set into the far wall. Students were packed together tightly, their heads craned up to stare at the empty platform where Charon assumed the speaker would appear from. Staying near the back, he noticed that the robes of students seemed to grow fancier the closer they were to the stage. Gold trims and slight embellishments appeared the further he looked, while some of those near the back looked to be wearing second-hand rags. ’Do wealthier students get notified first?’ The moment the time ran out, the lights dimmed. Squinting, Charon just barely made out a series of faces appearing from the darkened walls, looking towards the stage. He subconsciously smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. ’This is a school for mages! It only makes sense that shadow mages could appear from, well, shadows!’ Seeing the arbitrary application of their abilities made him more excited to test his own. ’I don’t have the first clue what soul magic even is! Will it let me do something like that? Appear through walls like a spirit can, maybe?’ His thoughts were silenced when two pillars of black smoke shot out from the crowd. They rose to the ceiling and then fell, stopping just above their heads before circling and landing on the stage. Two figures clad in medieval plate armor emerged from the smoke, each holding a twisted spear with a purple energy blade at its tip. Their faces were covered, with only a narrow split for a visor. A violet glow spilled from the opening, casting a dark shadow over the rest of the armor. What was worse than their appearance was the aura they gave off. Light bent to avoid touching them, and the air was filled with a biting cold. Every student whose gaze the men returned looked away, their eyes falling to the ground in fear. Dozens of whispers echoed at the same time, all repeating a single phrase: Dread Knights. Charon shivered. ’What kind of creatures are trapped in there? No way a human could feel so chilling...’ Without warning, the Dread Knights turned to face the center of the stage, their spears slamming the ground a single time before they each knelt, their heads lowered in reverence. A third, far larger, plume of smoke erupted from the crowd, shooting up before arcing down to slam into the center of the stage. Unlike before, the smoke didn’t just vanish; instead, it drifted down, filling the gaps in the audience. It touched Charon, causing the hair on his arms to stand on end. Covering his face out of instinct, he waved his free hand to banish the fumes, gagging when he inhaled the scent of decay. ’Gods, this stuff smells awful!’ Scrunching his nose in disgust, he focused back on the stage. Standing between the Dread Knights was a figure he had seen very recently. Long flowing robes of midnight hung down the frame of a man with no distinguishable body. Only shadows hung inside his perfectly straight hood. ’The High Priest?’ He quickly realized that it made perfect sense for him to be there. He wasn’t sure what the ranking system was, but "High Priest" had to sit pretty high, especially if he was also the "captain." The crowd was as silent as the grave as the High Priest nodded to the Dread Knights. With the sound of grinding steel, the two hulking individuals rose, turning to look outwards for any potential threats. Their spears thrummed with power, daring anyone to try. The High Priest slowly stepped forward, stopping at the very edge of the platform to scan the many faces looking up at him. When his eyes met Charon’s, the teenager felt his gaze stay a little longer than normal before moving on, although he figured he must have imagined it. ’Sure, he likes that I have a rare element, but I’m not anyone to the High Priest. No way he gives me more consideration than the rest of the students here.’ The man raised his arms to the sky, spreading them wide as if hugging the air. His voice boomed out from all directions, each shadow serving as a conduit. "Welcome, servants of Death!" Charon, expecting the noise, only winced. Meanwhile, half the audience crouched down, their hands cradling their ears in pain. Some even screamed out, their voices silenced as their friends hushed them. Sparing only a second to let the students recover, the High Priest continued. "A time of war is upon us, but it is during war that Death thrives most. He welcomes the souls of the fallen with open arms, ever vigilant to bring all the dead to heel." The students cheered at that, with the loudest section near the front of the audience. "It is my joy to announce the beginning of your six-month stay here! You will learn, grow, and endeavor to pass the upcoming trials. Those of you who fail will serve our god forever in the afterlife, while those who pass will grow ever stronger!" This time, almost the entire crowd cheered, their voices joining together. The walls shook under the force, yet neither the High Priest nor the Dead Knights wavered. In their excitement, students bumped into Charon, throwing him to the side. He struggled to keep a grip on the tome, forced to clutch it to his chest and weather the storm. "Over this next month, you will be introduced to the information required to master magic. Your first spells will be unlocked, and your element will reveal itself and the direction you will take. The teachers here will aid you in this, should you need them, although knowledge is seldom free." The warning hung in the air. Many in the front nodded with it, while those in the back exchanged confused glances. Charon was one of them, unsure what it could mean. ’Are the teachers not allowed to teach us for free? Do we need to pay to learn?’ It sounded counterintuitive, yet it wouldn’t have been the most surprising thing he had learned in the past few days. For all he knew, this was normal for the upper classes. ’If the students are expected to kill each other, why shouldn’t the teachers profit?’ His face split into a wry grin, although the crinkle of his forehead betrayed the revulsion he felt. The High Priest had just confirmed it, after all. He would be expected to kill. "When in doubt, turn not towards the instinct of life, but instead welcome the certainty of Death. Pray, students, and in your hour of need, the end of all shall come to your aid." The High Priest snapped, and all sound vanished from the hall. Every cheer, whisper, and shout disappeared, leaving only the shadows and the voice that spoke through them. "One step forward, one breath less, one soul more. As it was, it always shall be, the coming of the end." Like a dam had broken, the sound returned, yet instead of returning to cheering, they all echoed the statement. Their voices melded together as one, becoming unified in their macabre chant. "One step forward, one breath less, one soul more. As it was, it always shall be, the coming of the end." Charon just watched, uncomfortable with how easily the words came to the other students. ’Don’t they realize they are asking for the end of everything?’ It was awkward and unsettling. So many people coming together to worship Death, and not just as a part of life, but as something to grow stronger and consume more. ’Just what kind of church have I gotten myself involved with...’