Page 2 of Soulmates

Five years of training, isolation, indoctrination, and a grueling regime of exercises meant to expand their magical capacity had created and readied them to join the secret ruling class of their society.

And toward the end of their final year, the challenge occurred. No one knew why or what its function was. Rumor held that students could die or become lost, though no one could name a single person that had happened to.

Maddox St. James and Jake Osterman waited together in Jake’s dorm room for the first in a series of tasks they were to receive according to the text messages they’d received that morning.

“And he wouldn’t tell you anything?” Maddox asked for the fourth, maybe eighth, time as he paced back and forth while Jake sat against the wall opposite his bed. Jake’s older brother, Connor, wasn’t usually so tight-lipped.

Jake rolled his eyes once again and shook his head from his spot on the floor, long legs stretched out in front of him.

“But he’s been through it. Why the hell wouldn’t he want to warn you or at least hint at ways not to die?” Maddox groaned as he plopped to the floor, resting his back against Jake’s bed.

“I told you he said he can’t tell me anything.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Jake paused, looking more concerned than he had all night, which was, if Maddox was honest, really saying something.

“I don’t know. His breathing patterns were off, and his voice seemed strained and…”

Maddox sat up. “What?”

“Just…jerky. Like, he was trying to tell me and couldn’t? I know it makes no sense.”

“It makes sense if he was silenced.”

Jake turned understanding eyes on him. “I know, Maddy. Trust me.”

“I know you do,” he said as he stood and crossed the room, only making it halfway before their phones went off simultaneously.

“First challenge.” Jake stood, back cracking all the way up his impressive six-five height. Warrior class all the way, Maddox thought a little dreamily and immediately felt guilty.

Jake was built like a tank, tall and muscled—a gift from nature and a payoff from rigorous training. Shaggy, dark brown hair in a mess of wayward waves gave the impression he didn’t give a shit what people thought of him. Which he didn’t. Everything about him was big. Big, dark brown eyes, big nose, big mouth. Just…big. Maddox had caught enough glimpses over the years to know that Jake was anatomically proportionate everywhere, though he desperately tried to think about that as little as possible.

Maddox was none of those things. Short—even for an elementalist, who were generally built smaller and leaner—Maddox topped out at five-eight by age fifteen and never grew another inch, much to Jake’s ongoing amusement as the years passed. Light to Jake’s dark, blond hair fell to his shoulders. They both had brown eyes, but where Jake’s seemed to absorb the light, Maddox’s amber eyes sparkled—at least according to Jake and anyone who had attempted to hit on him. He was pale compared to Jake’s olive complexion. Though no matter the sun exposure, neither of them burned. And being a rare tri-elementalist, fire couldn’t harm Maddox either. Earth, air, and fire.

Maddox wondered for the hundredth time that day who was behind the challenge as they reached for their phones. The school swore no involvement and even halfheartedly condemned the challenge and referred to it as “the game,” though what kind of game resulted in the rumored disappearance and death of students each year, Maddox couldn’t fathom. And upperclassmen didn’t run it, since he and Jake were upperclassmen themselves. That only left graduates, or, as Jake believed, the school really was behind it.

“This is ridiculous.” Jake gestured to his phone with what might be his fiftieth eye roll. He was going to give himself a migraine if he didn’t watch it.

“One mascot you must claim, a symbol vast or slight, it mustn’t be your specialty you steal on this fair night,” Maddox read. “What the fuck does this even mean? And we’re rhyming now? Gods. So, we have to take a symbol of another specialty? That’s shit we did in year eight. What’s the point?”

“I imagine it’ll get harder as the night goes on,” Jake said.

“There’re forty-two of us. Don’t they think we’ll notice each other running around stealing shit?”

“Well, we’ll be stealing from places we don’t belong, so we’ll have to split up,” Jake said.

“Fine. Let’s go steal shit.”

“You know, we can’t necessarily steal the same item. You might need to steal some war symbol.”

“So, give me an ax, and let’s go.”

Jake laughed. What a sound. The best sound. Maddox kept those thoughts to himself.

Chapter 2

Jake had been right; the challenge got harder as the night went endlessly on. A vanishing text on their phones informed them to split up: Join your faction or face elimination. Enough fear surrounded the challenge that no one considered elimination to mean they’d be able to sit out the rest of the night and eat popcorn on lawn chairs and watch their classmates run around movie-theater-style. No, it was more likely to end like The Hunger Games.

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