Page 59 of The Song of Sunrise
The wine ripples in concentric circles like puddles of pooling blood.
Shadows grow along the wall, perched and waiting.
I weave my fingers through Castor’s and squeeze. I know barely anything about this Underworld Lord beyond the rumors that he eats the souls of his prisoners. In public, people call him “Earth Breaker,” but in the privacy and safety of homes he is called “Soul Eater.” A trail of shivers creeps along my spine. Only years of studying as a Prentice Teller keep my face calm and void of emotion, though the inside of my chest constricts in panic.
The Underworld Lord of Terraguard saunters in casually, as if the demonstration of his earth-shaking power was effortless. His pale white hair is tied back loosely at his shoulders, where a black cape is clasped at an angle. Reflective eyes of a thousand crushed mirrors contrast from the thin streak of black paint that covers his eyes, nose, and temples. Two warriors enter behind him, Coredivers, wearing similar markings on their faces. They tower over us all, though none are quite as large as Lord Atlys himself, who has to be nearing seven feet. General Damaris is lean, hair long and flowing, whereas Lord Cadex is broad, muscles bulging around his black tunic, hair styled in short curls falling forward at the top of his head while nearly shaved fully on the sides.
They are all pale and blonde. Creatures created from the bowels of this world that have never felt sunlight on their skin. The Corediver with long, wavy tresses, General Damaris, takes the cape off his shoulders, revealing more layers of black: leatherpants, a silver-studded belt, and a partially unbuttoned black shirt rolled up to the elbows. Scrolls of glittering tattoos creep across the wide column of his neck. A silver chain lays heavily against his chest, matching the ornate jewelry hanging from his ears.
“Thank you, General Damaris,” Lord Atlys purrs.
His voice is gruff and silky, powerful and soft, lilting and firm. He is a juxtaposition my mind cannot seem to unravel quick enough. His eyes, jewelry, light skin, and hair contrast so immensely with his black wardrobe, the house color of Terraguard, that the effect is… startling.
I lean into Castor’s warmth to soothe my shivers of pure, undulated shock and fear rippling through my body. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. I take a shaky sip of my wine, willing myself to remain calm and not show my surprise that I recognize not one, butbothof the Underworld Lords.
The one that killed Marrow and the one from the hot springs underneath the Watch.
The male whose silver gaze now stares back at me.
21
Presentation Day
“Better to shit yourself back here than when you are on the field Presenting,” Commander Hogsmith grunts to us as we wait behind a partial stone wall that leads out into the amphitheater where the rest of the Academy awaits. The outdoor amphitheater is carved from ancient stone and layers of earth, stepping down and down and down to a large, flat area where some of the Summit will take place. Professor Novak told us in Intro that this place was initially a graveyard site of a thousand souls that perished by the meteor that pummeled into the earth.
Seems fitting as we wait in line to enter the crater-shaped arena.
“Thanks for the words of wisdom,” Leaf whispers into my ear.
I make a very embarrassing squeak as I hold in my laugh. Rolling my eyes, I turn away from Leaf. Despite his easygoing attitude, I cannot afford distractions right now. Bile had creeped into the back of my throat ever since the Underworld lordsarrived at the luncheon. I sat through the remainder of the meal in shock and now somehow find myself in line to Present. I swallow and try to ignore the alarm bells ringing in my ears. My heart quickens. My hands shake.
Breathe. Breathe.
In a matter of minutes, I’ll be out there. In front of everyone, demonstrating the best of my physical and Source channeling abilities, vying for a spot to be chosen as a champion by one of the royal delegates. Snow falls gently above in the afternoon sun, only to evaporate as it nears the amphitheater, like a Sun’chersolarys shield. To think, only hours ago I was eating lunch alongside the royal delegates, and now I will Present before them, hoping that one will be interested enough to select me as their Champion. Perhaps Prince Ladon will find my performance worthy enough to represent the River Tribe as his champion, if those stolen glances from beneath those gorgeous blue lashes weren’t enough of a hint of—
A screech rips through the air.
Above us, five rocs fly so low overhead that the wind from their wings startles the pages out of Artemis’s hands in front of me.
“What in the bloody hell are you planning to do out there? Read a book?” Hogsmith chides Artemis who is now on the ground hastily picking up the pages.
“The Roc Riders are here!” Ramona says, looking up in awe. “Holy shit, the rocs are giant.”
The crowd claps and points at the giant eagle-like creatures. Their feathers vary in color as they speed above the crowd, talons sharp as any sword swiping mere feet above the gaping audience. This is the first Summit for many cadets watching; only the visiting family members or staff have seen such a display once or twice before, though by the surprised faces of the crowd, none have seen the Forest Tribe’s treasured rocs.
It seems Lord Clayoq and the Forest Tribe delegates prefer to arrive with style. Just like at the luncheon, this is a game, I realize. Every moment a chance for the royals to flaunt their power.
Within a minute, screams of terror and delight come from the crowd after a distinct splashing sound. The Lady Neda and the River Tribe most likely arrived in a fashion as to not be outplayed by their Elven neighbors.
Howls surround the stadium next, each echoing off of one another in the distance until their sounds overlap in a continuous drone. The crowd gasps and hushes. Other cadets peer around the wall and confirm my suspicions. Lord Rollo of the Jord has made his entrance.
Finally, a blast erupts from across the stadium. The earth rumbles beneath my feet for the second time today. Screams of genuine shock and fright screech from the crowd. The cracking and crumbling sound of rocks fills the theater, bouncing off the hard surfaces. There is only one being capable of moving earth and stone like that: Lord Atlys of Terraguard, likely making his entrance from the depths from which he comes.
The air is filled with tiny dust particles, cloaking the entire area in a haze.
“Oy! Fix your faces. Line up!” Commander Hogsmith yells at us.
From my vantage point, I cannot see over the partial wall into the theater, but by the sound of the hushed crowd, I assume all political parties are here.
