Page 47 of Wrath's Call

At exactly 1:00pm Sister Cara appeared at my door to escort me to the underground colosseum, stripped of sand and rock to bare a simple stone tiled floor accompanied by six wooden platforms. Beside each platform sat a small matching end table which housed an innocent looking purple vial.

Before we could begin Sister Cara had each of us cleanse ourselves in a bowl of ceremonial oils. The fragrant scents of rosemary, fennel, sage and thyme filled the arena, another nod to our ancient Roman ties. The oils were then removed in another bowl of warm jasmine scented water, before we dried our hands with a white linen towel presented to each of us in turn by a different sister.

I tried to ignore the presence of the other candidates around me, but Penny’s emotions struck a chord I could not ignore. As the arena filled with onlookers her trepidation rose. While not entirely out of the norm for an event such as this, hers transcended the nervous energy of the others into the realm of true terror.

When the lights in the stadium dimmed the gates at the end of the arena opened. Ambassador Kingston emerged from the blackened hall, with his bright red tuxedo jacket perfectly pressed, carrying two long metal chains wrapped around his palm. Attached to that chain came a line of six people, each with their ankles and wrists bound and cloth gags shoved into their mouths. There were four men and two women in the line, each wearing nothing but a simple pair of linen trousers, with a bright red brand emblazoned on the skin at the center of their sternums: the crest of Boralis with its regal swirls affixed to a three-pointed shield. Their brands told exactly what they were: the Forgotten.

The Forgotten were individuals who had been deemed to have broken their vows to the guilds and committed a cardinal crime. As recompense, each was stripped of their names and given over as slaves to one of the guilds to be used as they desired: be it as servants, soldiers, or even forced concubines. Many of those who attended Red Pines Academies were the product of one of these forced concubines, their illegitimacy secured simply by being born to a rightless slave. I sometimes wondered if one of my parents had been a Forgotten, especially as I hadn’t even been given a bastard name. It was rare for the children of the Forgotten to even be given even that little decency.

Annually the guild responsible for organizing the trials produced Forgotten to be used as tribute in the healing trials. They were seen as completely dispensable, so if any healer failed at their task, it was not seen as a loss. Living as a Forgotten was no life - and many of those who attended these trials hoped to be allowed to die.

Each of the sisters accompanying us moved forward, a long silver key in their right hands. They released a lock on each Forgotten which connected them to the two long central chains and led each to their own table, connecting their ankles and wrists to posts at each end. Their gags were then removed and the vials were quickly upended into their awaiting mouths before the gags were pulled back into place.

We were then allowed to approach the tables, and I took a moment to study the woman who had been put before me. Even with her hollowed cheeks and protruding ribs I recognized her. She had been a candidate from Red Pines four years ago. Her name had been Sarah back then, a caster of the diligence line, and she had disappeared shortly after the start of the year’s selections.

I looked up and met the glaring eyes of Ambassador Kingston, which sliced into me with silent menace. I then looked across the other tables at each quiet prone body, all of which I recognized in some capacity. All had been previous students; all had disappeared before their selections were complete. Turning my attention back to Kingston, I knew exactly what he was trying to say.

If you try to run, you will be caught.

I turned my attention back to the Forgotten woman before me, her body beginning to shake. Her lips clamped around the gag and the first sorrowful sound left her throat. All around me people began to thrash against their bonds, the acoustics of the arena amplifying the clattering of chains. Whatever they had given them had taken root, and their pain became a tangible thing in the air. Each one beat at my senses, tempting me to dive straight in. At the table next to me another healer had begun to glow, his green aura pulsating with generosity as he splayed his hands up and down the man’s body. He continued to writhe, his body twisting back and forth more and more as the minutes ticked on.

But as much as my own target may pull against her bonds in agony, I could still hear Sister Brie’s voice in my head - always a source of wisdom.Look girl, and listen. Don’t act without knowledge. It was words I had tried to live by, even if I had forgotten at terrible times like when I picked a fight with a mother hell bear.

I studied the Forgotten further, and through her misery I could see her skin was purpling. It took on an odd hue - not quite as blue as when cyanosis kicked in, but rather carrying a reddish tint to make the skin appear to be one large aging bruise.

I studied her fingers and toes next, noting that each was beginning to turn a sickly black. The skin around her nails retracted next, her pinky nail falling to the table beside her head with an audible click. Even her sightless eyes began to turn the same mottled purple, the white fading as the poison within her veins spread.

I knew what this was: the venom of the faehawk. The faehawk was a dangerous creature that, despite its name, originated from the heavenly plains. It was a large gold and red bird, with a massive wingspan that dwarfed even that of the California condor. Their size was only the least of their danger: the tips of their back claws ejecting venom that could bring down even a large elephant in a matter of minutes. However, they only had small traces of it, so their venom was often diluted to make it stretch further.

They could not have diluted it much from the speed at which the illness spread. I wasn't sure how they had managed to get so much of this solitary creature’s venom, but it was clear they were not screwing around with this trial.

It was important to heal faehawk venom in a reverse manner - starting at the most recent sign of infection and working back through the blood to the source. The venom took on a life of its own, finding a host location somewhere in the body to feed the energy needed to continue its deadly rampage. Going too quickly meant you would miss out on where the host was, and thus you were very likely to fail to completely clear the infection needing to start from square one once again.

I closed my eyes, bringing up the essence of generosity merely for show. I pressed my hands down onto her chest and allowed my psyche to roam to meet hers.

Once I connected with her, I felt the spread of the black energy oozing through every pore of her body. But something seemed missing, the telltale sickly odor of rotten fruit and stale vinegar missing from the infection. My head began to pound, and my body fought back convulsions as my body mimicked her feelings. I fought down the rising panic as I could feel her chains digging into my wrists, splitting open the swelling putrid flesh.

I concentrated, following the path of the darkness that swept through her veins. I pulled it to me, attempting to cleanse it from the body, but every time I moved on it seeped back behind me as if filling a void.

Everything I had ever been taught told me that I should be able to work backwards toward the source, cleansing as I went through the body. But this didn’t retreat or flow through the blood - instead seeping back into every spot I cleansed. Hopelessness clung to me like a second layer of skin, and I could feel my own knees begin to shake and splinter, falling to the ground beneath me. But still I continued to press on, even as the pain threatened to shatter my psyche. One more moment, I had to cling on for one more moment - there had to be a source of this pain.

She couldn’t die like this. Not when her only crime had been to try to be free.

What would have happened had she managed it? Would Marik still be here with me? Would he have come to seek another out? Or would this Forgotten woman entranced him with her formerly crystalline features and bright turquoise eyes? What if she was doing that now? What if all of this was some sort of ruse - an attempt to get me to succumb to her lecherous ways so that she could have him all to herself?

Maybe I should let her die. It would be so easy - I could just slip away and let her own blackness take her. Afterall, she probably deserved it.

Thief! A deep voice resonated within my mind; his gruff tones familiar but I couldn’t place it. He sounded far away - too far away to be of any help to me now.

Where was I? What was I doing? Everything was dark and oh so cold. My lips were freezing, but I couldn’t shiver. I was lost to the bright white light before me. Nothing was there, and I was to become nothing. I was a vessel for the souls I contained, nothing more than an urn for the dust of their shattered dreams.

So, this was what eternity was. Nothingness.

Come back light - where are you going? I need you! It’s so dark.

The world isn’t supposed to be this cold. Nothing should ever be so cold.

But those copper eyes - I lost myself in them. They were now my world. Only those two twin orbs of molten metal, held in place only by the thinnest ring of black. They were too lovely to be real.

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