Forti woke up in bliss. She stumbled through reality, head still in the clouds with thoughts of Riel, of Vasi being alive, until she visited the hospital with her brother after breakfast, and a figurative tub of freezing water was doused over her head.
Her mother rubbed her arm soothingly, sitting by the bedside while Forti stood over her sleeping sister, dripping in cold sobriety. They observed Vasi’s breathing together.
Rise and fall. Rise and fall.
She’s alive, Forti tried to convince herself.
“We have to believe,” her mother said, tired but reassuring. Her father was watching owlishly from a corner chair. “Keep talking with Vasi and trying the triggers from time to time. All we can do is wait.”
Forti didn’t want to wait.
I won’t let her wait.
Unable to afford caring about others, Forti receded from the few friends she had for the remainder of the school year, drowning herself with school work although it gave her all sorts of attacks in the night. Her only concern was how to acquire the mind reader as she ghosted the halls, planning in her lunch breaks, in her daydreams, in her talks with Riel.
She researched clearances and permissions, all prohibited or unavailable, but one glance at her family’s faces hovering by Vasi was all it took to investigate illegal means.
Deodunge might have a distributor.
Its black market infamy was outrageous. Articles complaining about the land churned daily, rivaling gossip magazines in frequency and malevolence, and Forti devoured them for a hint, a taste of how to contact a seller or be a part of the underworld.
It was futile.
The research journals and bitter opinion pieces about the stain of Ganmecria, how everything wrong in the country began and ended there, offered little helpful information. Deodunge’s history was fascinating, however.
Built on a remnant of a fort used long ago, it was a strategic location that can access and be accessed anywhere else in the country. After the Diamond Wars, displaced people of all species settled there, and though at first it flourished, whether by government negligence or human folly, the city sunk into the outlaw anarchical state it was today.
Forti broke away from the fifth analytical paper repeating Deodunge’s origins before it dissected the rifts in illegal finance between species, catching herself before she slipped further down the rabbit hole. She couldn’t trust they would land her the knowledge she needed anymore, not when most of the authors haven’t lived there, none being from there.
The first month of summer passed like water dripping from a leaking faucet into a void.
It was a warm Friday noon when the letter about Vasi’s result arrived. ValorA somehow found out Vasi was alive and promised when she awoke, she had a spot. With Wyver, Forti showed it to their parents, who mustered smiles to tell Vasi she did it. She got in.
Vasi continued sleeping.
When the siblings came back home, Forti confronted her brother, finally recalling what Rongyae had said.
“I can’t tell you the specifics if you’re going to get tested too,” Wyver admitted hesitantly.
“That’s fine.” Forti believed he didn’t mention it because of academic integrity. “Will they be sending an email about when I have to go to the school?”
Wyver looked away.
“You’ll find out. I can’t tell you much, Forti.”
Forti stopped pushing any further. Nothing could pressure Wyver if he didn’t want to say anything. He was an immovable object when it came to secrecy, and he had very few secrets to begin with.
He was the most stubborn person Forti knew in this regard, with the potential exception of their father, so she reasoned ValorA instructed him not to tell a soul given the confidentiality and exclusivity of this exam. She shouldn’t even have known it was drawing near, only finding out because of Rongyae.
“Want to come with me for grocery shopping?” Forti asked while putting her shoes on. Wyver shook his head no, heading back to their room.
“Good luck,” he said, like a farewell. Forti was already out the door.
When she returned, Wyver was gone. He texted that he was going out to hang with his buddies while she was grabbing cookies in the snack aisle. It was rare for her to be all alone at home. After putting away the groceries, Forti walked around like it was an open house and she was seeing all the rooms for the first time. After summer break ends, she’ll be in her last tertiary year, enthused as she could be considering everything that had happened, and then she’ll go into Gradus and move out to a dorm to pursue a specialization.
The doorbell rang mid-afternoon. Forti looked up from her strategy computer game, knowing whoever it was was not her family. Padding to the front door, she saw the security screen displayed an old man standing at the entrance.
He wore a worn, gray sweater over a white button-down with a moldy green tie tucked inside. His left hand gripped a black, leather bowling bag. He looked friendly, but as if perceiving Forti’s presence, stared straight into the camera and Forti jumped.
“Fortien Daetar,” his old voice rumbled. “I come from ValorA to proctor your exam.”
There was something off about him, like a dead pixel on a screen. A furniture piece an inch out of place.
Forti grabbed her phone, deliberating to call her parents or the police. The old man stopped peering into the camera, facing boredly at the door, and she wondered why the elderly man was convinced that she was home.
She called ValorA.
An automated message resounded, asking whether the caller would like to chat with an AI or contact a person through call or video. Forti demanded video, giving consent to be recorded for safety and quality assurance.
A neutral face appeared on Forti’s phone screen.
“Hello, you have reached Valor Academy. My name is Homli, how may I help you?”
“Hi Mir. Homli, a person has arrived at my house saying he came to proctor an exam for me from ValorA. Could you confirm if this is true?”
“I can go check. Can you give me your name please?”
“Fortien Daetar.”
“Thank you Mir. Daetaer. I will be putting you on hold now to ask.”
Mir. Homli’s screen transitioned to a gif of the ValorA coat of arms.
A stag with a sword resting on its antlers, a catfox with a wreath of flowers and fruit upon its head, and an ape with a crown approached the barren crest to take their places while symbolic heraldry designs flourished and unfurled all over. At the end of the moving artistic rendition was the final brilliant symbol of the distinguished interdimensional school. The gif smoothly started over.
Forti kept an eye on the monitor. The man was still there, readjusting his hold on his bag. It seemed awfully heavy.
“Thank you for your patience, Mir. Daetaer,” Mir. Homli reappeared. “Can you tell me the name of the proctor at your house?”
“No, he didn’t tell me.”
Someone seemed to be talking with Mir. Homli in the background and out of sight. Forti couldn’t catch their words.
“Is he wearing a… gray sweater?” Mir. Homli asked. “With a… gray tie? I’m sorry, I mean green tie. Is he wearing a gray sweater with a green tie? If you can, could you please show me what he looks like?”
Forti switched her camera to show the monitor as she said, “Yes, he is wearing a gray sweater and green tie.”
“She said yes. Is that him?…” Forti only saw Mir. Homli, so whoever she was speaking with must be watching from somewhere or on something else.
“Forti, that individual is indeed a proctor from our school. His name is Yrothocles. I’m told he should be carrying a large black bag with him and it seems like he is.”
“Yes, I saw it, too. He is carrying a black bag.”
“Wonderful. He is a proctor from our school. We’re very sorry for this– Er–” There was scuffling, the screen zipped to a woman with hair tidily rolled in a low bun, and a new voice emerged.
“Mir. Daetaer?”
“Yes.”
Forti switched the camera back on herself.
“Hello, Mir. Daetaer. This is Bes Gabrilon, the dean of admissions of Valor Academy. We apologize for this unconventional arrangement for your exam, and for the situation with your sister. As written in our letter to you and your family, we pledge that when she wakes up, we will admit her in our school, and Valor Academy always honors its vows.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Thank you.”
“Yrothocles will explain your test procedure and everything that follows. He’s a peculiar person and we’re aware this method of examination does seem uncustomary, but we assure you that it’s admissible and has been done before. We appreciate your understanding, as this was the only way we could administer it.”
There’s definitely tons of other ways they could have tested me than coming uninvited to my house.
Rongyae’s face surfaced in Forti’s mind.
ValorA is really weird. Did the same thing happen to Wibby? Why wouldn’t he talk about this? Did he at least tell mom and dad that someone came to our house?
Yet she was overwhelmed with a foreboding feeling that she won’t be telling her parents either. Something about this situation padlocked the need to report that a stranger entered her home, and it left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Thank you Mir. Gabrilon. I will then be allowing the proctor into my home now as you have confirmed his identity. Have a good day.”
“You as well, Mir. Daetaer. Good luck.”
After affirming the old man’s name, Forti welcomed him in.
The moment Yrothocles had a foot past the door, the hairs at the back of Forti’s neck rose. She felt like a stranger in her own house.
Despite already swimming in anxiety about letting him in, she was pushed under at the resounding click of the door closing shut, and she understood why animals experience stress when confined with another creature, uncertain if they will be attacked or mauled, if they would win and live.
In the combined living and dining room was a window wall that exhibited a slice of the city’s glory. She glimpsed at it to ground herself, and an involuntary shudder coursed through her body. It was like looking at a screen playing a simulation.
The space had inexplicably changed. Ever since Yrothocles entered, it was as if her home got ripped out from its plane of existence, blackout curtains drawn to block reality.
Forti sat the old man down at the dinner table that was right by the door, regaining some semblance of control through willpower, and planted herself across him, facing the exit with her back to the hallway.
He wasted no time in pulling out all items from his bag, which were only a candle and a bowling ball-sized glass orb. The latter was dropped on the table with a thud, and Forti worried if it was too heavy for the old man’s trembling, wrinkled hands.
How could ValorA make an elderly person carry that all the way here? Do they have no conscience?
ValorA was becoming less enticing with each encounter she had with its people.
There should be other proctors, and if none were available today, they could’ve stopped by unannounced any other time than make him lug that ball around.
Amazingly, it did not roll away, even when the man scooted it closer to Forti. She was distracted by how the glass ball sat still to notice he lit the candle, placed closer to her than the ball, and like the strike of a match, excitement flickered awake.
Forti enjoyed tests. The thrill of a countdown as she worked on problems was oddly exhilarating. She didn’t know what to expect for this one, unprepared because no matter how thoroughly she combed the internet, she could not find any mention of a ValorA exam that had proctors bursting through their applicants’ homes without forewarning. Wyver would not divulge and Riel didn’t know of it either, so Forti thought of it as being thrown into a game and grew giddy.
She believed in herself to be capable.
Because if no one else does, then I’m the only one who can.
Though the space was still saturated with a surreal ambience, Forti was more intrigued by the objects to feel dread anymore.
“Touch the flame,” Yrothocles ordered. Despite his cordial appearance, his slumping body language spoke for him that he’d rather be anywhere but here.
Forti looked at him, at the candle, then back at the old man.
“Could you repeat that, please?”
“Touch the flame.”
“Did you say to touch the flame?”
“Yes.”
What in the four realms?
“Why?”
“Because it is your test.”
This was nothing like the test Forti took all those years ago to enter ValorA. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but burning herself was certainly not within the range of possibilities she considered.
However, this was Valor Academy, the most esteemed academic institution across all the dimensions. There were children that would leap off cliffs and parents that would push them if it meant being matriculated into ValorA, those who would sacrifice a limb or a life to enter, and the notion that this was what the school was testing for, what Rongyae had meant when they needed people like Vasi, disintegrated any amusement for the exam and all respect for the school in that instance, replaced with bloated disgust. She hoped she was wrong.
“I will not be touching the flame,” she said calmly.
“Why?”
“...Because I cherish myself.”
Although the old man was staring steadily at her, Forti perceived he was seeing someone else. He was comparing her, most likely to Vasi, maybe even to Wyver, or to the multitude of other prospective applicants he had come across in his lifetime. Digging deeper, behind the permanent air of exhaustion stuck to his affable face, she discovered what the old man buried under the lazy droop of his body. He was feigning his fatigue. Forti was not alone in her zeal for tests.
Yrothocles’ eyes widened by the slight lift of his heavy eyelids. He wasn’t anticipating such scrutiny, for her to readily pierce through his bluff. He was the weary old proctor who grudgingly did his job. That’s what every candidate saw, disillusioned since his demeanor contrasted harshly with his amicable impression, and he was aware of it, used it, wielded it to cut them down to raw elements. They would drop their guards because if the guy giving the test didn’t care, then they don’t have to be so careful.
But the perception of the children of this family, the son and daughters, was as uncanny as the atmosphere he exerted upon the Daetaer home. Moreover, they didn’t recede from what they found, they prowled forward, and it pleased and irked him at the same time.
“Your sister touched the flame. Are you saying she does not cherish herself?”
Forti grimaced like she’d been gutted. Her fear had come true. Did Vasi want to go to ValorA so badly she was willing to hurt herself?
Except, Forti had once been the same. She knew what ambition and aspiration can do, mixed together into a volatile psyche that one could call unstoppable, but nothing was without consequence.
Yrothocles pressed on.
“What can you achieve if you are not willing to use your life for it?”
“If the achievement costs a life, then maybe it isn’t worth a life.” Forti felt like her tongue was slick with dirty oil, not completely believing in what she just said.
“Do you believe that?” He asked gruffly. “History tells that humanity is pillared upon a ground made of martyrs. From liberation to ways of living to chasing dreams, a life is required, and it will wear down, but it will fill with purpose, and coinciding with fortune, it will bless with rewards.”
“I know,” she hissed.
“To achieve phenomenal things, people are willing to spend their lives. They’re proud, happy, or content, even if suffering and frustration bear down, because the meaning is invaluable. Meaning answers why their life is the price, and if they don’t live to see their efforts bear fruit, then there will be someone else to pick them when ripe, perhaps as intended, and the meaning passes on, outliving the originator. ”
“I know,” she growled a little louder.
“All of it does not simply translate to the individual dismissing themself. It may be that to sacrifice is to beholden their existence to the highest esteem, to the extent that if they did not adhere to what they believe in, it would destroy them instead-”
“I know, I get it! But because of that she almost killed herself! Where would that leave me? What about our brother or our mom and dad? Your life isn’t your own if you have people who love you!”
Forti couldn’t believe she shouted at someone she just met, stunning herself to silence.
His rambling got to her. If it was any other person, she wouldn’t mind, wouldn’t have deigned a response. There was no value to the words thrown around about her or anyone she knew if they were spewed out from a stranger, especially a lengthy, philosophical lecture.
Something about ValorA and its people kept making her crack, and she despised it, aiming her newfound loathing like a spear between the old man’s eyes, but then at herself for falling for it.
When she learned of how Vasi brushed near death in the first place, she wondered why sacrifice was a necessity, wished that life never needed to be served as an offering so cows who didn’t know the fat bull that was slaughtered would reap the benefits and live happily for another day.
Yrothocles drew that idealistic yearning out of her, freed what should’ve been caged. Smoke could’ve curled out the corners of her mouth at what he had done, because now that it’s been released, where can it go? There was no place for it anywhere.
Who are you? Forti wanted to ask, but it was a pointless question. He’s Yrothocles, so she tried to think of what question would retrieve the answer that explained everything happening right now.
“What is going on?”
“You are having your test”
Forti sighed inside.
“Touch the flame,” Yrothocles repeated.
She eyed it once more. It didn’t matter if it was fake, or relatively harmless if it was real. At the end, what was this test for?
Well, I always wanted to try touching fire without my parents yelling at me for it.
Somewhat cooled from her anger, Forti poked the flame.
That didn’t feel right.
More slowly, she brought her finger closer. It was warm. Soft, like stroking the bulb of a yet-to-bloom plant. Her finger was engulfed yet there was no pain. Captivated by the fire licking at her appendage, Forti took no notice of how the shadows stretched up towards the ceiling as the room mysteriously dimmed.
“Just because it looks like a candle, doesn’t mean it is,” Yrothocles said.
“Then what is it?”
No reply was given. Forti looked up and the old man was cryptically grinning in the dark. It should’ve been sinister, but the ambience felt more like she was out camping with her grandfather. Instead of a bonfire, there was a little candle, and in place of her family, an arcane elder.
Then the warmth from where she connected with the false fire started to spread, under her palm, over the back of her hand.
“Do not startle,” he advised, recognizing that she was about to flinch away. “It does not hurt. Let it swarm.”
When it felt like her hand was submerged in a bowl of soup, he told her to press her hand onto the orb.
The moment her palm was flush against the glass ball, all the energy charged in her hand shot straight into the object, leaving her hand cold, and Forti witnessed what could’ve been the birth of the universe explode in the confines of the ball. A pulsating, almost trembling, white light thundered in the center of the sphere as clouds of phantasmic stardust swirled in a cascade of colors.
Absolutely mesmerized by the celestial performance, Forti did not see Yrothocles’ horrified expression. He recalled that ValorA’s records noted Forti took the entrance exam before, not that he cared to browse them. He was told so by some boy, probably one of the students helping manage files and documents and whatnot. Yrothocles didn’t bother with administration, he’s just the proctor, but he would’ve most certainly remembered a display like this.
The lights are back to normal. The flame is out. The glass orb is clear.
Forti pulled her hand off like she’d been burned, surprised by the abrupt change, and Yrothocles’ face was the most blank and unreadable she had seen today.
“Fortien Daeter,” he said sternly. “You will not tell a soul about my visit or your examination today. You are one of the few who know of this test outside of the trusted school faculty. If word of this is released, we will know, and you will be one of the suspects. Severe repercussions will befall you. Do not betray this trust.”
This was not a threat. It was a vow, and Valor Academy always honored its vows.
The sound of the shutting door broke the spell cast over the house, and Forti remained sitting as she pondered what had occurred. She viewed the clock on the wall, and then turned on her phone to check the time she called ValorA. The exam took a mere ten minutes.
That didn’t seem right.
When Wyver returned home two hours after Forti finished her test, the siblings gazed at each other momentarily.
“I took my test,” Forti said, more to confirm to herself that it happened. Her brother simply nodded, and they agreed without vocalizing that they would not utter about their shared experience until the time was right, whenever that may be.