Page 10 of A Sky of Storms
Red’s laugh boomed ahead of me. “Made you look.”
“Flog,” I grumbled under my breath as I followed him down the hallway, raising my bionic hand and moving each finger to make sure it was connected properly. If I had to take a guess, the guy was from the Crimson Steppes. He was built exactly like a boulder you’d expect to find in the desert, and he was about as funny as one too.
“Too easy, bro.”
“I’m not your fucking bro.” I punched him in the shoulder with my bionic hand and the man grunted, knocking into the wall beside him. Yep, it was working.
His split lips cracked even further as he snarled, turning on me. “Watch yourself, little twig. You don’t want to get on my bad side.” He wasn’t much taller—maybe an inch or two—but his wide shoulders made him appear larger all around. I held my ground as he puffed his chest to intimidate me. It was almost laughable.
“Get out of my way,” I said, holding his gaze. The man’s muscles threatened to rip out of his linen shirt as he tensed. Dude clearly wasn’t used to people standing up for themselves. “Do you understand me? If I knocked on your head, would it be hollow? Or perhaps it would rattle with rocks.”
Red stepped back and laughed again. “You have big balls for a little twig.”
“And yours must be shrivelled from all the shit you inject,” I bit back, shoving past him.
Typical Steppes bullshit. All ego, no intelligence; no wonder they were at the bottom of the food chain. I had no time or desire to deal with meatheads like him. The initiation was over, and I had a job to do.
Thousands of years ago, when Earth became uninhabitable because of our destructive species, humans all moved here, to Initium Novum. The gold, jewels, and other priceless objects brought with them to Terrulia were stored in two places: The palace, and the House of Ascension.
There was no way into the palace without getting caught, which left the academy. Every sixty or so years, once the monarch either died or retired, those selected by each of the Houses aged between twenty and twenty-five were given the honour of competing in the trials, which meant temporarily living in the academy.
Cormac didn’t want to waste the opportunity and as I’m the best thief in the Drakes—scratch that, all of DH—he organised my nomination and a shot at making us rich.
So other than my job, I had no interest in making small talk or friends. Not that I’d ever be chummy with shit-for-brains here.
The corridor opened to a hall large enough to fit hundreds inside. Just as well there were only a handful of people, all in varying states of fucked up. I found a spot to lean against the wall and watch as newcomers entered through the two archways on either side of the room. I toyed with my hand, checking its wiring and ignoring the pain in my head and ribs. I’d had worse. None of my injuries were life-threatening but standing around wasn’t ideal.
More people started filtering in. Some looked like they’d been dragged through glass and straight up whaled on. Bruised faces, broken noses, and bloodied clothing were the most common injuries, though many were limping or cradling broken limbs and digits. One guy had pissed himself but looked so shell-shocked, he didn’t seem to care that people were staring. A few people formed small groups, but most stayed on their own, checking out the competition. I picked out the odd few who looked confident, and I shook my head at the delusional elitists who looked relieved, celebrating their wins. Poor fucks had no idea what was coming, but I knew things would only worsen for them. I just needed to get my loot and bail.
There was not a House in Terrulia that would let a gang member from DH become king. There would be an uproar and part of me wanted to actually compete just to watch them throw tantrums like children.
I rolled my eyes at the eager souls who stood before the stage at the opposite end of the room. They reminded me of groupies at a concert. No matter where you went in life, there were ass-kissers everywhere. The Crimson Steppes blockhead from the hallway had found himself a group mostly made up of people from his city. It was an easy pick seeing as they all wore cheap linen suited to the desert heat. Their attire would do them no good here, and their apparent leader would serve them even less. Red looked to have assumed command already. Domineering ass.
The room was filling up; there had to be easily a hundred people here. From what I could tell, there was an even spread of competitors from all over the country. Each city had different terrain and climates, and most people seemed to wear clothes suitable to their geographical location, so it was easy to tell where they came from. The Crimson Steppes crew all dressed like their douchebag leader, for the most part, though there were a few that had their own style. Many of the Tritosa City participants looked like they had just stepped off a beach. Then there were the snobs from Stormcrest City in their designer bullshit. Finally, the odd contestant from my home, Damascon Hollow, mostly wore jeans and t-shirts because we were normal and not like the other cities with their ridiculous clothes.
My eyes snagged on a woman walking through the crowd with confidence, her long black hair flowing down her back. I ran my gaze over her; she was clad in pants that cost more than a month’s wage back in DH. I ran a thumb over my bottom lip. I’d bet she wasn’t the only Potential with an expensive travel bag I could take and hock on the streets back home.
She turned and I hissed, seeing her copper eyes and a very recognisable, albeit bloodied, face.
Fallon Auger of House Jupiter. I should have fucking known.
Everyone in Terrulia knew of the Auger family. They were filthy rich and proud of it. People like her didn’t have to lift a single finger whilst the rest of us fought for every scrap we had. The parents were like the damn godparents of the mafia, near untouchable in their pretty perch amongst the sky. That rich bitch and the rest of Stormcrest City were the worst of humanity. If there was one good thing that could come from Fallon being here, it was that she’d soon be dead. The world would be all the better for it.
In Damascon Hollow we fought and stole for scraps because of greedy people like her and her family who took more than they needed or deserved.
“Welcome Potentials! Welcome to the House of Ascension!” a voice called, hushing the crowd and drawing my attention away from the spoilt princess with a soul as black as her hair. “Wonderful, just wonderful!” A woman stood on the stage wearing a loose white gown with a brown belt tied around her waist. She clasped her hands together and looked over us all as though we were children. Those in the front row ate that shit up, the fucking brown-nosers. “I am Celeste, the Overseer of this esteemed academy, and I am thrilled to congratulate you on your first victory. You have passed the initiation and are set to walk a wonderous path towards unveiling our new monarch. Unlike the unworthy who failed today’s task and have been sent home, all of you succeeded in keeping your secrets and defying your captors. A true leader must not buckle under pressure and you have all shown you can shoulder the burden.”
A ripple of excited voices tore through the room. I felt nothing but anticipation for what was to come. The trials were just a game and oh, how I loved to play. There were at least one hundred people in the room, but only one could become the king.
“You stand within the hallowed halls of the House of Ascension, where greatness is forged and monarchs are made. Over centuries, kings and queens have walked these halls, trained on these grounds, and have been crowned upon this stage.” She looked down to the floorboards at her feet and sighed lovingly, her shoulders sagging. “What a privilege it is for you to be on this journey. Nominated by your cities like knights of old.
“One of you will prove yourself worthy of the throne, and all of you will be guided by the best teachers in this country to ensure you are at peak mental and physical form.” The woman waved her arm as though she were one of those chicks who revealed prizes on game shows. “There are three tasks you will undertake. One of physical strength, one of magic, and one of the mind. Each trial will test you and attempt to break you. Only the worthy will progress. This is not a journey for the faint of heart but a quest to uncover the worthiest to become our monarch.”
I rolled my eyes at the way she spoke. We weren’t in some fairy tale. It all sounded like an epic adventure, but this shit was real. The truth was most of these weaklings would leave these halls broken or in body bags. Many Potentials present were only here because of the blood running through their veins or the credits in their bank accounts. Privilege was a fine thing, but wealth was useless if you weren’t around to spend it.
I would be sure to spend the money I made here well. I had my own ideas, as did Cormac. Lately, the Drakes had been making bank through some of Cormac’s investments. He’d moved me from grunt work that got my hands dirty to prepare me for this job. Soon we would have more influence than ever before.
“Prior to each trial you will be allocated sessions for training,” Celeste continued. “The Trial of Body is the first you must conquer, and so your training will be in combat, endurance, magic, and obstacles. The sessions aim to refine your skills and weigh your merit. Consider carefully in the coming weeks, whether you truly belong in this academy. Once you submit to the first trial, there is no going back.
