Page 31 of The Teras Trials

Silas looks over his shoulder once, and then is gone.

The doors close behind them. There is nothing for a long moment. Leo lets out a shaky breath beside me. The dean moves back to the glass bowl, but makes no move to pull names. He just stands there, waiting for something. And then it happens.

A scream.

The entire crowd reacts. Another, this one a horrible, strangled echo of the first; bright and high and coming from that first door. I spin to Leo and find his face wild too. Everyone of us is on edge. No one here had known what was coming.

Except the dean.

“What is this?” Fred is screaming. “What have you done? Silas? Silas!”

She shoves forward through the crowd and I lose sight of her. People push on either side of me, crushing me. Suddenly I am sweating, suffocating.

“What the hell is going on?” Bellamy barks.

I grunt a strangled, “I don’t—”

“Calm down!” the dean is shouting. “Calm down!”

“Calm down?” Someone near the front of the group shouts. “Calm down?! Are you insane! Are there teras in there?”

The movement of the crowd stops, everyone waiting with anxious anticipation for an answer we already know deep down.

Of course there are teras in there. What else would make someone scream like that?

In the lull, another scream goes up, then a few furious, panicked shouts. Several people escape the crowd and lunge towards the dean, but the Blood Hunters launch forward. They wallop the oncoming attackers. They leave them breathing but clutching injured arms. Those panicking then dart back towards the crowd. The motion starts again, but this time I am shoved back against one of the suits of armour as people try in vain to get back into the Great Hall. They throw themselves uselessly against the door. A few brawny young men call for space and, once it is given to them, they run towards the door like human battering rams. The door doesn’t give. It is made of stone—it obviously wouldn’t give—but it doesn’t stop them from trying. Peter is amongst them, a frenzied, wide-eyed look on his face.

I stand frozen, not quite accepting what is happening.

The University has teras inside the wards. If any one of these got loose. . .

“Oh, god,” Bellamy shouts. He shoulders his way towards the stone door. “Peter. Peter!” He grabs the young man but Peter throws him off and shouts angrily, hammering the door with his shoulder once more.

Bellamy looks shaken. Victoria is in tears next to him. He puts her behind him and approaches Peter again. “They have our blood, Peter,” he says loudly, loud enough the rest of the room can hear him. Many people grow quiet. There is something about his voice; it communicates a certainty that feels heavy and inescapable. “Doesn’t matter if you force your way out of here. They’ll find you anyway.”

“Can’t have anyone spreading the University’s secrets,” I say. A few people turn to look at me, furious. But it is true. We were all told the same thing. We all agreed to the same thing; a phylactery of our blood, to be hunted if we failed the trials, or denied them.

Everything is a test. Staying in this room is one of them.

I curse Thaddeus in my head. He sent me here without a single warning. Nothing but a scrap of paper.

My shock is reflected around me. These people’s siblings, their parents: anyone with a University heritage had been sent here without the proper training, where they could very easily be killed.

All to keep a place behind these wards.

A dread falls over the crowd. The desperate need to escape has vanished. Apart from a few strangled cries, the hall is silent. A horrified acceptance is starting to settle in.

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. This fear isn’t new to me, but it’s been so long that I have felt so utterly alone.

Leo comes to me and knocks our arms together; a little bit of stolen intimacy for two shocked near-strangers. I make myself take deep breaths. The dean steps forward, and reads out seven new names.

I stand there as if in a trance. I have no idea how much time has passed, only that the crowd grows thinner and thinner. The screams and shouts remain consistent, like a haunting, haphazard beat to this twisted song. As names are called, I spot Fred again. Her eyes are blank.

Bellamy turns to me. “I keep imagining. . .” he starts.

“Victoria Bennet,” says the dean.

Bellamy grows very still. Victoria turns to him so slowly, doe eyes staring up at him, glistening and sad. He raises a hand to her face.

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