“At the birth of all, Darkness ruled.”
Light’s origin,
Page 1, Line 1

THE VINE SNAPPED and Palos slipped in the soft soil of the garden. He dodged to the side as a shower of sharp thorns and branches rained down on the ground where he had stood. He made a small exhalation of triumph, though it was short lived as his foot caught a root and he stumbled, landing amongst the weeds of the garden. He sighed and rolled his head back, resigned to his fate.

Wisps drifted from the single cloud that hung around the great peak and floated through the clear blue sky. He raised his hand to ward off the glare of the sun and get a better look at the mountain but instead framed the dirt and white scars that criss crossed his sun-baked hand. Some had barely healed, and he dropped his fingers to the two new slashes that trailed down his right cheek. They would soon become scars themselves.

He decided they would come to look good, trailing his strong jaw and matching the kink in his otherwise straight nose. He ran his fingers through his short cut black hair and sighed, as he often did when lost in thought.

The grunts and curses of others struggling with their tasks across the terrace broke his contemplation and Palos pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders to shift the discomfort that had settled there. He took the moment of respite to stare down the mountainside at the distant fields, villages and towns resting far below, in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

            “Are you gonna help pull or just sit there?” a gentle voice cut through his reverie, and he turned with a start. He sighed with relief as his gaze fell on a petite woman with flowing-straw coloured hair and round golden eyes standing a dozen feet away. Her hands rested firmly on her hips and she looked down her delicate nose at Palos, a feat only possible due to his position on the ground and sighed.

            “Uhhh, yes, of course. I was just, uhhh… thinking.”

            “You know that will get you in trouble,” Trista replied with a wry smile. “This one is really tightly bound, can you help me, so we don’t pull the whole chain of salt peppers out of the ground.” Palos sighed and surveyed the chaos their afternoon chores had wrought on the garden. Large tanglevines lay beside the plot, torn and piled high, yet a substantial still remained.

            “There’s no way someone did this a week ago,” Palos mused. “Do you think they did this to us on purpose Trist?” She tilted her head and gave him a look that told him what she really thought about that question.

            “Yeah, the blue moon, I know. Okay, I’m coming,” he grunted, lifting himself from the dirt and stretching. He looked down at her as she waited impatiently and shrugged, unsure of what else to do.

Trista rolled her eyes and turned, leading the way through the various piles of detritus, careful to hop upon the stones placed between the rows of plants. The garden was the largest maintained by the academy and required an equal amount of maintenance, particularly in the summer season. The relentless green scourge of tanglevines was always in need of cleansing and who better to do that than the students.

            “That big batch there,” Trista pointed to a mound of vines that had all but consumed a bush with bright yellow flowers in full bloom. They threatened to choke the plant and deprive it of vital water and nutrients.

            “So do you want to pull or hold?” Palos asked, grinning at the young lady. She returned the grin.

              “I’ve seen the damage your pulling can do; I’d not care to explain to brother Valus how we destroyed one of the more promising salt pepper plants.” She strode off the path into the loose soil of the garden, taking care to avoid any potential shoots.

            “Should I step only in your footprints and avoid causing further damage?” Palos asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

            “That would be helpful, actually. My, you certainly are learning, I didn’t think that was possible.” She shot back, without turning her head. Palos waded after her, his footprints covering hers completely.

            “It also means if you break the plant, I can sneak out amongst your giant feet and avoid trouble.” Palos froze mid step and looked up suspiciously at her beaming face. He moved his foot to the side without breaking eye contact and planted it next to her footprint.

            “Booo,” she pouted her heart-shaped lips playfully. “You should be more confident in your abilities. Anyway, grab those branches.” Palos reached between the salt pepper flowers and gripped the tanglevines. They cracked as she meticulously began unwinding them from the vegetables, releasing their stranglehold.

            “This is gonna take forever."

            “You’d better get comfortable then,” she said, pulling another vine free. She ducked under his arm and began pulling at some vines lower down. The scent of her, mixed with the academy’s rosemary soap, drifted up to him and he took a deep breath.

She had tied her hair into a ponytail with a black silk ribbon that matched her immaculately pressed black dress and leggings. Their only blemish the recently added dirt from today’s chores. She stopped and looked up at him.

            “What are you looking at?” Palos felt his face flush.

            “Nothing,” he coughed, looking away. She rolled her eyes and giggled, and Palos felt his cheeks redden further. She ducked out from beneath his arms and continued her task. Palos swallowed and looked down at the space she had just vacated. He cocked his head at a reflection and bent down to rub the dirt from it.

            “OW!” Trista yelped, recoiling from the vines. Palos jumped back up, realising what his negligence had caused. “Did you just thorn me!” Palos coughed uncomfortably.

            “Yes, but…I just bent down to…” Her withering gaze silenced him, and he bowed his head, “sorry.” She narrowed her eyes then shrugged.

            “You barely got me. Did you drift off, or something?”

            “No, there was…” he trailed off and peered down, before gently lowering and releasing the vines. He tugged the embedded stone from the ground and wiped the dirt from its surface revealing a spherical piece of obsidian.

            “You thorned me for a stone?” Trista came over to him and looked at it, “not very chivalrous.”

            Palos gazed deep into its faceted surface as he turned it over, catching something hidden within. A glint of fire.

            “Do you see that?” he whispered, trying to focus on the flickering light.

            “See what?”

            “There is something…, like a little flame.”

            “I don’t see anything, but it is pretty.”

            “I wonder if it’s special,” he mused. Trista gave him a dubious look.

            “I doubt it, but why don’t you keep it. It’s a nice… memento. Maybe make it into a necklace or something.” Palos looked up from the stone and found her eyes on his. She smiled reassuringly and he replied in kind.

The relative peace of the garden was shattered by the toll of a bell. Trista jumped back and Palos quickly tucked the stone into his tunic. They both glanced around before acknowledging no one had seen them and shared a look of relief. Palos took a deep breath and the tension faded from his body.

“I hope it’s just a roll call. I can’t stomach another ‘ascension’,” Trista’s tone oozed with revulsion and Palos’ eyes widened with the near blasphemy of her comment. She caught his look and corrected herself quickly, “I… I mean just someone ascending that isn’t me.”

            Palos sighed “I know how you feel, I need to ascend soon, I’m almost sixteen.”

            “I’m sure your time will come, maybe this is it?” He felt hope rise in his chest at the prospect but knew it was most likely empty. He had not done anything he could think of to distinguish himself in such a way.

“We should get going. We don’t want to be late.”

            Trista nodded and brushed soil off her dress as they hurried from the garden. The stone path, cut into the slope, trailed upwards until it came to a plateau. At its centre rested a large stone building of several floors that housed a single bell tower. Other squat buildings spread out around it, though they were drab and plain, made even more so by the mountain that rose behind. It dominated the view north and even on clear days its top wasn’t visible, though those were few and far between with the summer now dwindling.

            Rows of students were filing into a paved square before the steps of the largest building, all rigidly at attention. They ran the last hundred metres, sighing with relief as they slid into their assigned positions.

            Almost on cue with their arrival, a large worn wooden door swung open, and all chatter died. The last stroke of the bell hung in the air and Palos felt his heart flutter as he cast a quick glance at Trista, who returned an uncertain smile.

            A tall, gaunt man with greasy brown hair and overlong fingernails paced down the stairs. The white robe that hung around him trailed along the steps and onto the stone floor. Palos held his breath as his gaze swept across the masses, his deep eyes taking in all those before him. His wide mouth split open revealing disturbingly white teeth.

            “Millar,” he said as his vision rested upon a young boy several rows over from Palos. The boy hesitated and peered around. None dared return his fervent glances, as if to move now would be to draw The Master’s ire. He stepped out of line and shuffled forward. Time stretched as each of the boy’s steps seemed to reverberate through the eerie silence of the afternoon.

            The Master seemed to possess immeasurable patience as he waited, unconsciously rubbing his hands together. Millar stopped before him and the difference in heights would have been comical had there not been a frightening undertone.

            “This boy,” The Master called, extending his hand over his head, “has been seen eating from the food stores, outside of meal-times.” Gasps rippled through the students and Palos found himself holding his breath. Again, he cast a sidelong glance at Trista. She trembled; her eyes wide and locked on the boy.

            “No, I would never!” The boy cried. The Master’s head snapped towards him, eyes ablaze at the interruption and Palos’ jaw tightened. Many of those around him cringed.

            “For your insolence and… transgressions,” The Master barked. “You shall spend ten days in the Dark Fens.” Palos felt a pit form in his stomach as the stone circle embedded in the ground at the back of the square began to hum.

I hate that sound.

A thick green coalesced at the centre of the stone circle, spreading outwards. The boy stood frozen as it filled the gateway. The Master seized him by his shoulder and all but dragged him towards it.

            “The gate will open again in ten days, at which point you may return, all of your sins forgiven. Should you not return, someone will be sent to retrieve you.” A cruel sneer split The Master’s features.

            Or what’s left of you…

The thought appeared momentarily in Palos’ mind, as he remembered his last stint in the Fens. He had been bitten by a reed snake and writhed in a dazed agony for two days before managing to overcome the venom. Others he knew, had not been so lucky.

            “Now go, and may your time there teach you what it needs to,” The Master said, releasing the boy towards the gate. He stumbled, his legs paralyzed by fear, only catching himself a step before colliding with the green portal. He spun, facing The Master and those assembled. All eyes were on him. He appeared sickly white in the reflected green glow of the magic. Then he stepped back, vanishing with the matter of the gate leaving nothing but the stone circle once again.

            Everyone’s head slowly swung back to The Master, awaiting the next part of the ceremony. They all knew it well, and held the same hope in their hearts, but Palos now knew it would not be his day, for he had never met Millar before.

            “Apprentice Inigo,” he announced at last. A squat young man with leather coloured skin and a dominant chin stepped towards The Master and bowed low. The Master placed his hand on his shoulder and smiled a crooked smile.

            “Today, you have earned Dargoth’s favour. You may now take the Path of the Ascended. You have done well.” Inigo’s face split into a grin despite his efforts to hide it and he puffed his chest out. He bowed again and the Master strolled past him and back into the building. As the doors shut, students rushed to Inigo’s side with congratulations and shouts of encouragement. Palos joined the crowd, cheering him on, though half-heartedly.

He usually would share in the excitement of those given the chance to ascend, but he felt, now, more than ever, his time ticking away. He slapped Inigo on the shoulder and shouted his well-wishes before he left to return to his daily task. He had not known Apprentice Inigo well, but on the occasion when they had crossed paths, either in sparring or weapon combat, had found him a good enough sort.

His mind turned back to the mountain and what awaited him upon the ascended path, but his thoughts were increasingly drawn to the lower path, the one left to those that had not ascended by their sixteenth year. The Path of the Forlorn.

            Palos, like all apprentices, knew little of either beyond the direction of the trails; one up the slopes of the great mountain, in the clean air and sun’s light; the other a broken path into the dark heart of the great mountain, confining and stale. What awaited on each, no one knew, for those that trod either were never seen again.

A muffled sniffing broke his concentration as he entered the garden, and froze. Trista sat with her back against the stone wall of the terrace, her knees pulled up to her chest, cheeks wet with fresh tears.

She saw Palos and made an effort to wipe the tears from her eyes. He didn’t move, like he had just come face-to-face with a mother wolf, unsure of his next step. After a moment of hesitation, he approached and sat down beside her, trying to make as little sound as possible. The silence stretched between them, unbeknownst to Palos, who’s head thundered with a cascade of thoughts as he tried to think of the right thing to say.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your time to ascend will come really soon, you’re so competent and…. smart,” Palos said, feeling his face heat with the compliment. She turned, her eyebrows raised and her mouth slightly open in thinly veiled disgust. Her reaction sent his thoughts thundering in panic as he tried to think of how to unsay what he had.

“I’m not sad because of that, why would I even want to asc…,” she spat, before biting off her words, realising the severity of the blasphemous sentence. Palos failed to notice, too concerned with trying to figure out what he had done to further upset her.

“I… I… mean you know it will all work out for you, whatever it is you want…,” he said, the words stumbling over each other in his rush to get them out.

“Why do we keep doing this, Pal?” she asked, her eyes locked on the distant sea, only barely viewable under the late afternoon sun. Palos followed her gaze for a moment, to see if he could divine any clue as to what she was talking about but resigned himself to the fact he was truly lost.

“Do what?” he asked gently. She neither looked at him nor gave the usual sound of exasperation in reply.

“That boy…,” she whispered. “He was like ten years old, sent to the Fens, and for what, so someone could get themselves ascended? To put someone through that pain, or even send them to their death for their own wellbeing….” She trailed off putting her head back against the wall and shivered, though not from the late afternoon air.

Palos tilted his head, a question already formed in his mind.

“What do you mean, ‘get themselves ascended’?” he asked, careful to keep the excitement he felt from his voice. She rolled her head to the side to regard him, not with any form of disdain or excitement, she merely looked. Her eyes took in his face as if to discern something from it. Palos found it unsettling and turned away, looking out over the vista below.

“What are you doing tonight?” she whispered. The question caught Palos completely off guard and he stammered.

“I don’t know… sleeping I guess?”

“Meet me here an hour after sundown. I have something I want to show you,” she pushed herself to her feet, brushing imaginary dirt from her dress reflexively.

“But…!” Palos choked, before cutting his voice down to a mutter, “that’s forbidden.”

“We should finish with these weeds, before someone finds us lounging here,” Trista said, ignoring his protest. She moved towards the half-freed plant and Palos followed.

He glanced around, checking if anyone lurked within earshot but found them alone. He had no idea what she had meant about ‘get themselves ascended’ and with his sixteenth birthday approaching there was little time left to find out. If she had any useful information, he would have to risk it.

HE ROLLED UNCOMFORTABLY  in his bed and winced as the old wooden slats creaked. The sound of snoring continued unabated, and he took a breath of relief.

The sun had set over an hour ago and despite his attempts to sleep, it had eluded him. The knowledge that Trista could be waiting had kept him up. He had pressed her for more, but she had remained tight lipped, so much so Palos believed it might be a trick.

But what if it wasn’t?

He leant up and peered around the small room. It held over a dozen bunk beds, each occupied with other boys his age. He doubted they would notice if he slipped out, but there was always a chance. He fretted with that thought for a few more minutes before taking a deep breath and rolling off his bed. The sudden creak felt unnaturally loud as his feet hit the floor and he listened for any reaction, before releasing the breath he held. He grabbed his boots and snuck for the door, closing it behind him with a gentle click.

The corridors were empty, and no lights lit the darkened halls. He continued barefoot, along several empty hallways, pausing beside one door that held hushed voices. The sound of others awake made him consider returning to bed, but he hurried on, resolved to see his act of defiance through, and left the building through a side door.

The cool air, a relief after the heat of the day, washed over him and he jumped into the building’s shadow, slipping his boots on. The red moon hung high in the sky, though its small size provided little to no illumination.

Maybe luck is with me tonight.

Palos skirted the yard, making his way for the garden. He stuck to the shadows. Even though he saw no one, he knew that disciples patrolled the night, relishing the chance to punish those that might break curfew.

He avoided the stone steps down, instead opting to step on the long grass that sprouted along the rim of each flagstone. The sound would have been almost inaudible, but he wanted to take no chances. Every snap or rustle of some nocturnal creature sent him into a crouch, making the trip significantly longer than normal.

            He leapt from the last step and darted into the shadow against the terrace wall, breathing as quietly as he could. The garden was still a mess. They had cleared the removed tanglevines, though hadn’t managed to save all the bushes, that was a task they would have to look forward to tomorrow.

            Palos swore he could see them growing, as they often did in the moonlight. Luckily, it was just the light of the red moon, not that of the blue.

            “You came,” a voice whispered from beside him and Palos suppressed a yelp, instead emitting a slight whimper. He took a steadying breath and turned to see Trista’s silhouette detach from that of the terrace wall. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him after her as she made for the shadow of the nearby barn.

            How did I not notice her? How is she so quiet?

He listened for her footsteps but could discern nothing, distracted instead by the warmth of her hand and the tightness with which she gripped his.

            She slipped between the slightly ajar door and yanked him inside.

            “Trista… what…” Palos began, but she shushed him and moved for the far corner, him in tow.

            “What are we doing here?” Palos whispered this time, avoiding a shush but receiving no answer. She pulled him down and into an empty animal stall before taking a deep breath. Palos saw her grin flash in the dark.

            “Isn’t this exciting,” she whispered. Palos didn’t know what to think but felt far too hot on such a relatively cool evening.

            “Why are we here?” he hissed again. “If we get caught, we could…” he dreaded to think, but knew it would be far worse than Millar’s fate.

            “Oh Palos, you are so stiff. Live a little. Isn’t this exciting!”

            “Not so much,” he replied nervously. There was an uncertain pause and Palos tried to divine her mood in the dark.

            “It will be worth it,” she whispered. "You know you are my best friend, right?” Palos’ eyebrow shot up at that, he thought she had been closer with others. Other girls perhaps but felt warmth rush to his face once again.

            “I… I didn’t but that is …nice,” he stammered. “I think you are mine, too.” He blurted the last out, worried he might offend her if he didn’t, but as he considered, realised it was probably true. They had spent a lot of time together in the last few months and he wasn’t particularly close with the other boys here.

            Physical combat and competition left you sizing everyone else up, rather than creating bonds of friendship. It also became hard to be close to others when confiding in anyone could get you sent through the portal, should they tell another of unsanctioned thoughts or action.

Titan’s Wrath!

He realised the weight of Trista’s comment and fixed his attention on her. 

            “Trust is dangerous here, but I don’t want to end up like everyone else. I don’t want to condemn others to the horrors of the Fens, or worse, for any amount of praise.” She took a deep breath and put both her hands around his. “…so I am trusting you, and in return, I will help you...”

            Palos blew out a long breath. He didn’t know how to respond. He knew trust was an empty promise here, but right now he couldn’t focus on that. All he could think of was her hands on his, and how warm they were. He could hear her slow measured breaths and felt a weight in his chest.

            “Of course,” he muttered, “I will keep your secret.” There was an audible breath of relief, and she threw her arms around him. He inhaled sharply in surprise and hugged her back awkwardly, feeling the shape of her body press against his. She pulled away and the tension Palos had failed to notice evaporated from the air.

            “Let me show you something I learnt. It could help you.” She held out her hands and Palos gasped as tendrils of light began to sprout from her palms, illuminating the corner of the barn. The tendrils flowed together like water and collected into a small radiant orb.

            “Magic!” he hissed. “You can do magic! How is this possible? The use of magic in the academy is banned. How did you even learn it?”

            She smiled and her eyes shone in the white light of the magic.

            “I can show you.”