Page 35 of Black Onyx
Well, that’s one hell of a coincidence. The games disappeared around the same time that the war on the Centre’s and their Bonded happened. For some reason, I don’t think that the games disappeared because the Realm no longer needed protection. I think something happened that blocked Realm from pulling the Fae at the academy into the games. I internally roll my eyes; of course, what the fuck do I know? It is a pretty hefty coincidence, though.
“Did you have a choice whether you participated in the games?” a guy off to the side asks.
The professor eyed him, “No, everyone who was in attendance at the academy got called. However, when they got called it was staggered.” At his words, students look around at each other with a mixture of unease and relief that they don’t have to go through it anymore. The professor ignores them all and carries on his explanation, “the teams that the spear assigned to you would get pulled into the games together. Those who had incomplete teams would get pulled in and find their other members already in the games.”
“What about people who had no other members on their teams? Would they get pulled in, too?” someone asked.
“No, back when the Warrior Games were still active, there were no single-member teams, only incomplete ones. Each round was different for each team and was specifically designed to play on their weaknesses and strengths. It wasn’t rigged, so winning was impossible, although, at times, I’m sure it could feel that way. The length of the rounds all depends on the environment they were transported to and their swiftness in identifying the objective and completing it. Sometimes the objective was clear, and sometimes the participants had no idea what it was. No round was ever longer than twenty-four hours though. If the objective wasn’t completed in time, then the realm deemed you unworthy.”
His already severe face darkens even further.
“What happened if the Realm deemed you unworthy?” I surprisingly hear myself ask.
His eyes land on me, sparking with recognition for a second before he nods slightly in approval, “The Warriors that failed were brought back here and given to the temple, where the gods and goddesses decided their fate, usually death.”
Exclaims of shock surround me, and I sink back into my chair. Failure wasn’t an option for the warriors that once trained at Black Onyx academy. It would result in certain death. Looking around at the students now, I see a fair few that still carry the need and drive of our ancestors to be the best warriors, warriors that are capable of protecting our realm and capturing the rogue supernaturals that stalk the many Realms. However, there’s more than there should be that have gone pale at the mention of the games and the death that would follow if they didn’t succeed, and for me, it’s easy to see how the academy that once prided itself on training the strongest warriors has become this.
The warriors of the past fought in wars, which was a grey area to begin with since all warriors trained at Black Onyx, so when a conflict between the different courts of the Fae Realm arose, it all depended on where the loyalties of the individual warrior lay. That’s one of the reasons that the academy sits on neutral ground between the Summer Court to the left and the Shift Court to the right. However, there hasn’t been a war since the one that exterminated the Centres and the Bonded. The warriors here are now trained as a kind of security force that deals with rogue supernaturals and acts as a mediator between those having boundary disputes as well as all things in between, one of the most sort after jobs is to become a protector in one of the Royal courts or with one of their dignitaries. There are nine courts with multiple dignitaries and high-end officials in each court; therefore plenty of opportunities for the best graduates to get positions but not enough for everyone to have them; the school trains thousands at a time. Not to mention that some of those being trained here wouldn’t actually want those positions of safety; they want to join the assassins or be on the front lines helping the people, not in an ivory tower. Although there is still danger involved in all of these positions, the threat level is significantly lower, especially since the games are no longer a threat to the Warriors, who don’t put their all into their training. This means that parents who still have control over their children until they turn twenty-five that previously would have hesitated to send their children here in the past because of the very real threat of death no longer deem it a risk. I know some high-ranking families use it as a form of reform school for their unruly and thoroughly spoiled children.
Money is what gets them in, and it's as simple as that. They, of course, still have to go through the testing, but results can be manipulated when the right price is paid.
There’s an evident divide in the classroom between those who have gotten in using family money and connections and those who have put in the effort and hard work to be here. It doesn’t escape my notice that everyone would most likely assume I was part of the first group.
“Alright, that’s enough,” the professor snaps, making everyone quieten down and bringing me out of my own thoughts, “there were worse things than their lives being forfeited for the Realm. The Realm at least would take them within seconds, and they’d feel nothing. But the terrains and situations that the warriors were up against were very real. Some of them are not even in this realm. After all, how can the Realm be sure that the warriors were up to the duty of protecting it if they were only tested against things that they were familiar with?” he pauses to let that sink in before continuing, “anything in these rounds could and would take great pleasure in killing the participants. Some of the beings that they were put up against would simply take them prisoner, instead. Since the failed participants wouldn’t be able to be brought back here when their time was up and held in the temple for the gods and goddesses to deliver their punishments, they were simply abandoned to whatever realm and creature they couldn’t defeat.”
“That’s harsh a fuck,” someone muttered, and the professors eyes snapped to the speaker in the third row.
“Yes, it was barbaric, but it was the way things were done, and every warrior had a purpose and a goal to strive for. Those that made it through the games were deemed heroes, warriors worthy to serve this Realm and were often given gifts from the gods themselves.”
My eyebrows rose at that. The gods and goddesses are talked about a lot in the Fae Realm, we learn about them and their roles when they were on this plane, but they haven’t been seen for a long fucking time, so long in fact that they’ve become more myth than reality. Especially for those of us that were born after the great war.
Something niggles in the back of my mind, almost like something I’ve forgotten is trying to push its way forward, but as soon as I acknowledge the strange feeling, it immediately dissipates, and I'm left wondering whether I imagined it.
“Why did the games stop?”
“No one really knows for sure, a lot of things happened around the same time, and there’s a lot of theories floating around that someone or a group of someone’s put it all into motion and that it's all connected, but as no one has come forward to claim it nor has the reasoning behind the attacks on these particular factions been found all we are left with is guesses.” The professor answers as he leans back on his desk. His words confirm some of my own thoughts but also bring a fuck load of questions to the forefront of my mind.
I listen as he answers a couple more questions, but I can’t seem to focus on what he’s saying. It’s only when I take a deep breath trying to centre myself, that I realise why I’m having a problem listening in the first place. My magic which usually resides in the centre of my being, is buzzing just underneath my skin.
I tune in, trying to figure out why it suddenly appeared without me telling it to do so. I feel on edge, almost like I’m in danger, but not quite. The conflicting feeling makes me frown; that makes little sense. Trying to keep my outward appearance calm and unaffected, I stretch my senses around the room, trying to find something, anything that could be out of place and causing my magic to react this way. Nothing seems to be triggering the reaction though, and as quickly as the feeling comes on, it dissipates.
Loki leans in slightly, “Are you okay?”
Keeping my voice low like his, I try to think of the best way to describe what I was feeling as I reply, “Yeah, I just had a weird feeling for a minute, almost like I was being watched, but I couldn’t find anyone looking at me.”
“It’s probably got something to do with the conversation we were having. It doesn’t exactly bring out happy thoughts, does it.” He tries to reassure me.
I shrug, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Before he can say anything else, the bell chimes, and the room suddenly becomes a flurry of movement as everyone packs up their shit and gets ready to go to the next class. The guys and I seem to all be on the same page and take our time packing up, in no rush to get to the next lesson. I’m not even sure what it is.
“Strategy next,” Rival mutters as he moves behind me to follow the flow of students out of the door.
“It’s like you read my mind,” I grin, and he chuckles quietly.
“Didn’t read your mind, I just looked at your schedule and I have that class with you.”
“When did you look at my schedule?” I ask curiously.
