Page 5 of Phixmery

EVERTHING I OWN IS IN a small leather bag: three pale beige threadbare tunics and three oversized leather pants that have been sewn more times than I can count. The necklace I was wearing the night we escaped all those years ago sits persistently around my neck, under the clothes I’ve chosen to wear on the journey. It’s the only thing I have left from that time in my life, and I make sure to keep it hidden under my tunic. Plus, even if I wanted to remove it, the clasp has long since melded together over the years. The necklace is nothing too spectacular—a small sapphire jewel laid in intricate silver flowers like the ones from my dreams.

Those dreams have been my source of comfort for years, although they’re rare. More often my sleep is filled with nightmares that would drive anyone to madness, so I’d rather a dreamless sleep most nights. But the good dreams, the ones I’ve had only a handful of times, are so peaceful that a dream sometimes seems worth the risk. They always have those beautiful white flowers, so the warm metal is a comfort of my long forgotten past, as well as a reminder of those fleeting sweet moments.

A small smile comes to my face as I let my thoughts drift to my family, something I rarely let myself do because of the grief that follows, but any potential comfort is ruined by one of the Sergeants interrupting me at the door of my tiny hut. “Cadet, it’s time to go,” he informs me succinctly. When I don’t move right away he huffs out a breath and grabs me by the upper arm, hauling me along behind him.

Nero caws. “Tell that flesh bag to unhand you this instant, or I’m carving out his eyes.” He flaps around the male’s face, and since I don’t need to hide that we can talk any more, I relay his message with a twitch of my lips.

The male drops my arm like I scalded him and glares. “Get to the wagon, now. Don’t be slow about it either.” He gestures towards the large dark wooden box on wheels, hauled by four beautiful white horses.

Without delay, I jog slowly over to the wagon that looks like it could fit at least twenty fae and climb inside only to be greeted with the other two recruits from Shalo: Cresida and Bracken. Bracken glances at me, though quickly dismisses my presence by resting his head along the wall of the cabin, shutting his eyes. He and I have always ignored each other, staying out of each other’s way. He was one of the lesser evils in Shalo. He never helped, but he was never outwardly cruel either. Meanwhile Cresida—daughter of Cardon—has always had it out for me.

If it wasn’t for Gretchen, she would have drowned me on dry land with her water magick. Being the same age, she came into her abilities at ten years old and loved topracticeon me. It eased up for a year, after Gretchen found out, but then my aunt died and Cresida started up again full force. Between Nero and me, we were able to avoid her, but unfortunately she would find me on occasion and only with my own wits and the help of my feathered friend have I been able to escape her.

Cresida crosses her arms, her ice-blue eyes narrowing. “Well look who it is, Bracken. The null who somehow conned the recruiters into thinking that crow is her familiar.”

I sit on the opposite side of the wagon from her, keeping as far away as I can get in this enclosed space and tucking my bag between my legs on the floor. “He’s a raven and his name is Nero.”

She flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder and sneers at me. “Whatever. Just wait until they find out you lied. I bet they’ll send you to the front lines to be dragon bait.”

My nails dig into the meaty part of my palm, the pain helping me breathe and keep a level head. If I’m stuck going to Phixmery then my only goal is to keep my head down until I can find a way to escape. And that means not retaliating. Suddenly it seems like the worst idea to pretend that I can’t access my magick. But I have to convince them that I’m as good as a null.

Commander Ashbluff appears at the entrance of the wagon, eyeing us all with a look of contempt, his gaze lingering on me far longer than the others. “You are now Cadets in the Damorleia Army. You are the lowest of the low. During our journey you will obey every command and not cause problems. Do I make myself clear?”

We all murmur “Yes, Sir.”

He nods his head. “Settle in, it’s going to be a long two weeks.” He slams the door to the wagon and it echoes in my soul like the final nail in a coffin.

WINTER IS NOW truly upon us, and even traveling further south where the temperatures are supposed to be warmer hasn’t escaped its cold grip because Phixmery War Academy is located far up in the Dreki Mountains. Other than the cold, this trip has been a luxury compared to what I’m used to. We made camp at many different outlier villages and ended up collecting seventeen other recruits, which thankfully makes it easier to avoid Bracken and Cresida. But it hasn’t stopped the latter from spreading rumors, although it didn’t quite go as she planned.

It’s been made clear to me that even though nulls are the outcasts of society, they are still treated with respect, which means that everything the fae of Shalo told me was a lie. I’m just not sure why they would lie about that—if they hadn’t wanted me, I could have found somewhere else to be and avoided enduring over a decade of abuse… But then again, maybe it’s a good thing I stayed given that outsiders so easily discovered my non-null status and recognized Nero as my familiar.

The wagon is packed to the brim with recruits, which makes the now very bumpy terrain even more frustrating as we keep jostling into each other. The temperature is much more frigid than I’m used to, so we must be close to Phixmery. Suddenly the wagon comes to a jerking halt and I brace my hand on the smooth wooden wall to keep my balance. We all glance around at each other. Why are we stopping now? They told us we wouldn’t reach Phixmery until later this evening. Unless more time has passed than I thought.

The wooden door snaps open and commander Ashbluff glares stoically at all of us as the winter winds whip past him and into our small space. “Everyone out and file into two lines with the others,” he snaps, turning away, the crunching of the snow getting more distant with every step he takes.

Without delay the other recruits bundle up and trudge out of the wagon. I immediately see that the sun is still high in the sky and there doesn’t seem to be any civilization around. With a huff, I swiftly wrap my thin cloak tighter around me, grabbing my meager belongings before climbing off. My gaze widens as I take in the expanse of mountain terrain around us—peaks so high they disappear into the cloud-bank as a light dusting of snow falls softly to the ground. These mountains are so much larger than the ones back at Shalo, it’s staggering to realize how small we really are.

It’s then I notice all of the other wagons for the first time, as if one has come along every single road in the province, with cadets standing similarly to us in their own formations in front of each. There’s easily five-hundred fae, silently waiting for instructions. It’s nerve-wracking and I can’t help but feel a pulse of urgency rip through me.

The cold seeps into my damaged leather boots as the snow covers up to mid-calf. Fates, this is going to suck. Hopefully we won’t be out here for long. Trying my best to quickly follow the footsteps the others have left behind, I fall into line at the end of the back row where the others from my wagon are waiting, but am unable to see due to the towering fae males in front of me.

More crunching of snow sounds through the open valley as Ashbluff strides to and fro to address us all. “Here is your first trial. You are to make your way through the valley on foot, cresting the mountain top and hiking down to the academy. During this trial you will be judged by the Guardians of Phixmery, and if they believe you are lacking, well, you better make peace with your fate now. You have until the dinner bell signals, which is about eight hours from now—otherwise you are free game for any beast out there. And a word of warning; stay on the path and do not deviate from it. May the fates guide your journey.”

Fucking fates. I’m not dressed for a journey in the mountains.

Mentally, I go through everything I own. I’ll have to wear my stockings until they’re too wet before changing them to another pair, even though they are dirty from the trip here. They won’t stay dry for long with how wet my boots are going to become, but it’s better than nothing. The winds aren’t too bad right now, but if they decide to amp up, I can throw on another tunic or two under my cloak. As for these guardians, I’m just going to have to keep my wits about me and hopefully I won’t run into any of them—whatever they are.

Fae begin to gather in groups after we are dismissed. The wagons head off, plowing through the snow drifts in the direction we are to begin going before they veer off, staying on a trail, while we are to continue up the mountain. I glance around, unsure of the social constructs that I’m supposed to include myself in. Are we supposed to be doing this in groups? I didn’t hear commander Ashbluff say anything about that. My knowledge of how things work outside of Shalo is extremely limited, I realize, and what I do know, I’m not sure holds any truth. Any memories I have of the world beyond Shalo and the horror of the night all those years have practically faded—I barely remember my parents, but I’ll never forget how loved they made me feel. It’s something I hold onto when life becomes unbearable, reminding myself that I should believe in myself how I know they believed in me.

Just as I’m about to begin my trek up the mountain a voice calls out to me, making me halt in my tracks. So far on this journey, no one has said a word to me thanks to Cresida’s vile rumors she’s been spreading, and since she’s been bragging about being the daughter of the leader of Shalo, people tend to listen. I turn and see Bracken jogging through the snow with ease towards me.

I crane my neck back to look at him, taking a step back in the process. “Can I help you?” I ask warily, narrowing my gaze on him.

He runs his hand through his flaxen hair while his pale blue eyes dart around nervously. “I thought we could make the trek together.”

My brows furrow and I feel a frown settle on my face. “Why? You’ve never bothered to talk to me until now.” Not giving him a chance to answer, I turn and continue on my way. If I’m going to be trapped at this place, might as well make it there in one piece so I can figure out what the fuck I’m going to do.

Nero lands swiftly on my shoulder and I sigh. I’ve missed him—he’s been flying alongside our caravan these past couple weeks and I’ve only seen him at night when we’ve stopped to rest.

---