Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 66: Test

I stand there, gaping, struggling to connect the suffocating horror of the burning corridor with the clinical brightness of this massive room. It's as if my mind and body can't accept that I'm here, whole, with Artemis beside me alive and unscarred. Kaizen, still pale and trembling, sits slumped at my left, while Elijah's jaw is clenched tight on my right. The other first years maybe a little over twenty sit slightly to the left of us look equally dazed, their eyes flickering between the proctors and each other, trying to process what just happened.

Evanora's hands come together in a sharp clap, snapping the room back to order. "Sit down, Awakened Daath," she commands. I drop into my seat automatically, not willing to refuse. I can still feel the heat of the fire, the burn of acid sap on my skin, the press of Artemis's fading gaze as the vines closed around her throat. I have to force myself to breathe, to remember it wasn't real. Or at least, not real now.

Is this how people who fight me feel? Because damn this sucks.

With a dramatic flourish, Evanora sweeps her hand toward a slim, pale woman seated three seats down the long desk. The proctor looks barely older than me maybe a year or two at most. Her uniform is crisp, her posture regal, but something about her makes my skin crawl. She stands with a dancer's grace, brushes a cascade of white hair from her face, and fixes us with eyes the color of polished silver.

She smiles not cruelly, but with a composure that makes me feel like a child in front of a lecturing parent.

"My name is Juliet Deng," she says, her voice low. It carries a weight that belies her age and appearance. "My Mark of Power is Dreamer. It allows me to create whatever I want inside your dreams. I find it extremely useful for our house sorting purposes." Her gaze sweeps the assembled students, but when it lands on me, it lingers. "With my power, I can directly influence the scenario, and I can also bring others with me. All of us Proctors watched both groups."

A dream? An Illusion so strong even my voices didn't notice. They hiss in outrage at my accusation. I try not to let my unease show as she continues, "I will say, I am thoroughly surprised, Awakened Daath, at your group's victory."

The words take a second to register. She's addressing me directly, this beautiful, dangerous proctor with the power to mess with the reality in our drams. I scramble to my feet, bowing my head in gratitude. "Thank you, Proctor Deng. I... I appreciate your praise." I almost stutter, but catch myself, and then hoping to give those present less reason to dislike me—I add, "But I could not have defeated Weed without my team. They were... indispensable."

There's a brief silence, as if the room is weighing my humility. I feel Artemis's yellow eyes on me, and I refuse to look knowing the betrayal I'll see in them, Kaizen's ragged breathing like he is barely restraining a panic attack, Elijah's quiet approval. I keep my head down, fighting the urge to look up and see if the proctors are buying it.

Then, from the far end of the desk, a male proctor with wild, curly hair and a wicked smile lets out a low chuckle. "Weed?" he repeats, clearly amused.

I blink, confused, at the question. "Ah, yes. That's... what I called the plant user we fought. In my mind, I mean." My ears go red, and I hear a few snickers from the proctors. Juliet's eyes crinkle at the corners, the barest hint of a smile on her lips.

Evanora leans forward. "I suppose that's one way to dehumanize an opponent, Daath. Names are powerful. Did it help?"

I hesitate, then nod. "It did. Made it easier to focus on the fight, not the fear." I don't add that it also let me distance myself from the reality of what I was doing or that it made it easier to let the voices out when I needed them.

Juliet's voice slices through the amusement, all business again. "You were all given the same scenario, though with minor variations. It's a necessity, I'm afraid. With so many Awakened, we must determine not just your raw power, but your capacity for leadership, teamwork, ruthlessness, and improvisation. Some of you failed. Some... exceeded our expectations."

I glance at the other group. They look shaken, but whole. I wonder what horrors they faced. Did they have their own Weed? Did they make the same choices we did? Did any of them have to burn a friend alive? Where they the ones I was hearing fighting on the first floor?

"You may feel a certain... disorientation," she says, hands folded in front of her. "The memories of of the first few hours before you were subjected to the test will soon return, not that you all were doing very much anyways. It is only a slight side effect of being forcibly injected into the Dreamer's Mark. Our Proctor Juliet is exceptionally skilled, but even her power leaves a trace. You will all be yourselves again soon."

I glance at the group around me. The other first years are already whispering among themselves, some relieved, some still pale with the horror of what they've witnessed what they still believe, in some corner of their minds, they've done.

Must have been nice having so many allies I think bitterly.

Our team is silent. Elijah sits back in his chair, stretching, as if finally able to relax now that the nightmare is over. Kaizen is still hunched into himself, staring at the floor, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, especially Artemis's. She, in turn, is staring at me, her expression raw, almost hurt.

I meet Artemis's gaze for only a second before I look away, sneering internally. What does it matter? None of it was real. But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know it's a lie. The memory of ordering Kaizen to burn her alive is burned into my skull. We might know it's a test now, but to her, I still gave the order without knowing that. I willingly killed her.

Finally Kaizen finally speaks, voice hoarse. "I killed you." He looks at Artemis, tears threatening again. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't—"

She gives him a look tired, sad, but forgiving. "It wasn't you. It wasn't real. I'm here."

Elijah just sits, shoulders hunched, staring at the marble floor. Evanora's voice booms. "Now, if there are no further questions, we will move on to the next group of thirty. The remainder of the First Years have arrived on their trains, we will work through all of you in groups. Once all groups have completed their tests, we will proceed to the House sorting."

As Evanora finishes, a massive man rises from the far end of the proctors' table. He's bald, with skin like burnished copper and eyes so dark blue they look almost black. His face is a map of old scars, and his mouth twists into a sneer as he surveys the lot of us.

"Enough sitting," he growls, his voice like a landslide. "On your feet, all of you. I'll lead you to your rooms. Move."

There's a mad scramble as chairs are pushed back, The room's grandeur fades into the background as the proctor whos deemed it not necessary to name himself herds us toward a set of double doors at the back.

I fall in step with the others, casting a sideways glance at Artemis. She's walking with her arms folded tight across her chest, her face tight, but her eyes keep darting to me, full of questions and accusation. Elijah catches up beside me, his hands in his pockets, shoulders loose.

"You all right?" he murmurs.

"I'm fine," I snap annoyed. But Elijah just shrugs, as if he expected nothing else. Kaizen trails behind, his steps dragging. He keeps his head down, pointedly not looking at Artemis, or at me. The guilt hangs off him in waves, and for a second, I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. But I know he'll have to come to terms with it on his own just like I will.

We finally reach a long hallway lined with never ending doors. I guess this feature of the building wasn't a complete illusion although it seems the real version of the building lacks the extra floors. The proctor stops and turns, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Rooms are assigned by group, two to a room," he barks. "You'll find your names on the plaques. Clean yourselves up, and wait for the summons. There will be food delivered to you soon. Any misbehavior, and you'll answer to me. Understood?"

A half-hearted chorus of "Yes, sir," rises from the crowd. He grunts in satisfaction and turns away, leaving us standing awkwardly in the corridor.

I search for my name. "Ayato Daath Room 13."

I slip into my assigned room before anyone can stop me or try to talk. Just like before, they've given me a room to myself how generous of them. My memories start to trickle back, just like Evanora promised. I remember stepping into the building, the way they directed us into a massive open room lined with wooden benches. We never got real rooms, not at first. Just a number and a seat. I remember counting heads my group was the fourth called, thirty or so of us lined up and marched away like it was all routine. I check the clock that's handing on my wall. Hours have passed, but it all feels like no time at all has passed.

It's disorienting, realizing how much time they stole from us, how easily they can rewrite what's real and what isn't. I don't like it.

I lie back on the too-stiff mattress, eyes open, watching the cracked plaster of the ceiling. The voices are quiet, lurking somewhere in the corners of my mind. I wonder what this house sorting will be like, what fresh hell they have waiting for us when we arrive at the real academy.