Chapter 137: Quinn Larisch (Part 9)
My father wasn’t the emotional type, but after we separated, I could hear him quietly weeping. I don’t ever want to forget the memory of our final hug.
As soon as they left my sight, I knew I had to pass the trials and see my mother again. She’ll still be alive by the time my trials end, and I want to spend as much time as possible with her.
Within Saneth, there is an area privately owned by the government where residents aren’t allowed to trespass. It doesn’t have an official name, but the people like to refer to it as ‘Area 15’. Apparently, there’s an old story about how a place called ‘Area 51’ was critical in influencing the events of World War III many centuries ago. That said, the secrets discovered in ‘Area 51’ were lost with time, as were many other insights that humanity learned in the earlier half of this millennium.
The first part of the trials is called 'The Dawn', and the dawn involves everything leading up until the testing portion actually begins. After being dropped off, I joined the other eighteen-year-olds and funneled under a grand archway practically dripping in gold. It was immediately evident how highly the government monitored even the dawn, as armed soldiers patrolled the area from all angles.
Walking down a long hallway, I found myself in awe at the glimmering beauty encompassing me.
Passing under another archway that ended the hallway, I stood in a massive courtyard with people lined up everywhere. Each line had ropes and arrows guiding people in what direction to go, and hundreds of people lined up in maze-like contraptions all over the place. As I took a peek behind me, I noticed four soldiers, two to each side, were stationed with firearms near the archway. More soldiers were also patrolling around the courtyard's perimeter, elevated along the top of the archway and surrounding walls.
In the center of the courtyard were four long tables facing outwardly, with three soldiers dressed in uniform running each table to make a total of twelve. One by one, every eighteen-year-old would have to wait in line until it was their turn. Once they were at the front, personal information such as their name and gender and a drop of blood were recorded. They were then assigned to line up in one of the numbered corners of the courtyard, where four long, winding lines also awaited.
Once I was at the front of the line for the tables, the masked soldier on the other side of the table apparently recognized me. It was a man's voice. He addressed me as a lieutenant and nearly saluted me before I discreetly motioned for him to cut it out. It was only once, but when I worked for the government, I briefly heard of a soldier acting out of line while working a similar job during the dawn. I never learned what happened to the soldier afterward, nor did I attempt to pry.
After my personal information was recorded, the soldier asked to see my hand so he could draw some blood. As he reached for his tool, he subtly thanked me for the meal, and I realized he was one of the soldiers I invited to lunch after I had stolen an iris shard. With mixed feelings, I remained quiet, and that was all he said before I was pricked in the finger. After pressing my bloody finger down on a paper, he asked me to join the queue for line four, located in the back right corner of the courtyard.
Compared to the other lines, line four appeared to be the shortest wait; however, I still stood in line for well over an hour before I abruptly witnessed a public execution. Before that happened, though, movement within the courtyard had grown stale, as nobody else had been arriving under the archway for the past ten minutes. Perhaps it was a fear of blood, but a young man screamed and attempted to run away from the tables in the center, making a bolt for the archway. The young man was well-dressed, oozing with wealth only afforded by a noble or higher-class family.
However, his body was round, and his running was sluggish. It was clear that he hadn’t put forth an ounce of training in preparation for the trials. Perhaps he was ignorant or believed he would be exempt because of his family name. Of course, I would never find out, as the young man was shot on sight before he even made it to the archway, and screams of horror reverberated throughout the courtyard at his expense. Besides the echoing screams and the frequent look away, nobody dared to make sudden, drastic movements that would lead them to the same fate.
Something became clear to me then. No matter who you are… rich, poor, military general, or newborn… nobody stands above Queen Divine and her rule. Nobody.
For the rest of the time I was outside, the only sounds you could hear were scuffled footsteps or the occasional interaction between soldier and participant at the central tables. After another hour of waiting, I was finally at the front of the line at corner four. There, I was ordered to follow a pair of armed soldiers inside a building. With one in front of me and one filing in behind, I was relieved to feel a wave of air conditioning brush against my face as they led me down a wide hallway with a tall ceiling.
Beneath my feet was a red velvet carpet with gold designs, and paintings with gold frames decorated the vanilla walls to either side of me. After another minute of walking, we took the second right. We briefly traveled down another hallway before stopping in front of a golden door. The soldier in front knocked on the door twice before entering a moment later, with both myself and the other soldier bringing up the rear, putting a doorstop in place.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The room looked very similar to a doctor's room. A stool and messy desk were beside a medical chair, and a group of smaller chairs bordered along the opposing wall. Loads of medical equipment hung from the ceiling, and behind the medical chair were closed cabinets lifted above a pair of sinks and a countertop full of various medicines and doctor tools. Glancing over my shoulder, the door behind me had no handle, meaning we would all be locked inside if the doorstop were removed.
A doctor, most definitely one who works directly for the government, was seated on the stool. He was staring at one of his monitors, utterly oblivious that we had entered the room. After a few seconds, one of the soldiers cleared his throat, which startled the doctor enough to garner his attention. The doctor then ordered the soldiers to have me seated. Although I would have seated myself willingly, I was quickly picked up by the soldier from behind and thrown into the medical chair.
I wasn’t putting up a fight, but the soldier kept me held down while the other soldier moved behind the medical chair and presumably clicked a button or pulled a switch that caused a series of locks to entrap my arms, legs, torso, and even neck. Besides being able to talk and wiggle my fingers and toes, all other potential movements were heavily restricted. Not only that, but the metal locks then began to glow, and I realized my iris was being considerably dampened by a substance called ‘Wentworth’.
A few decades ago, Sorel, a scientist beloved around the world for his technological advancements with iris, invented a substance called ‘Wentworth’ that counteracts the flowing energy of iris, neutralizing its’ power. He accomplished this feat through years of in-depth research and trial and error on iris, eventually reverse-engineering a product that neutralizes iris's life energy. I had used wentworth dozens of times during interrogations and was familiar with its effectiveness.
After I was strapped in, the soldiers exited the room. Without introducing himself, the doctor glanced back at his screen for a moment before exclaiming that it was an honor to be in the presence of one of our nation’s most honorable men. I thanked him, and he began to babble about how the trials should be a cakewalk for someone of my status as he tapped away at his keyboard. I didn’t say anything, and a moment later, some of the medical equipment connected to the ceiling began to lower itself.
The doctor informed me then that while it was probably unnecessary for me, considering my record, he couldn't shake his curiosity to see how I would perform. He explained that each participant must undergo a series of tests to gauge where they currently rank among their peers. Depending on my score, I’ll be placed accordingly with where I belong. Clicking another series of keys, the end of the armchairs open up to reveal two buttons on each side, making a total of four.
Each button was color-coded in the following order from left to right: red, blue, white, and black. Each button also possessed a number ranging from one through four; however, they were deliberately placed out of order. The order for the numbers from left to right was three, two, four, and then one. Lastly, making a shape around the given number, each button had its own shape drawn on it. In order, it went: pentagon, triangle, circle, and square.
Colors, numbers, and shapes. Hearing the sound of the equipment still lowering, I registered that I only had a set amount of time to memorize where each detail was located. I did my best to download all the information I could before the equipment blocked my vision of the buttons. Hearing the doctor’s footsteps travel just a step behind me, I hear the ripping sound of velcro before a strap is wrapped around the back of my head. Feeling the imprint of goggles pressing firmly against my face while a pitch-black view overtakes my vision, the doctor tightly secures the equipment around the back of my head. I wince as some of my hair is wrestled into an uncomfortable position.
After I was fastened in and the headset was locked in place, the doctor waddled back over to his stool. Suddenly, my pitch-black view was no more, as I was now viewing a perspective of myself slowly soaring through the sky. An intelligence-based time test followed as I was forced to remember and click the proper buttons to progress through the assessment.
Once I had grown used to which features belonged to which button, the test would switch around the locations of the varying colors, shapes, and numbers in an attempt to throw me off. Honestly, it was fun, and I didn’t hold back on my skills. I wanted to get through these trials as quickly as possible.
After I had completed the assessment, the head equipment was unstrapped, and the gear began elevating back toward the ceiling as my view of the room took its place. The proctor… doctor, whatever he was, complimented me for my impressive speed and accuracy, and I swiftly thanked him once again.
He then explained that while he wouldn’t tell most people this, since I was once a lieutenant, he felt obligated to share, which I didn’t react to. The doctor explained that while I was undergoing those tests, the rest of the gear scanned my body to see how healthy and muscular it was, along with much more.
Supposedly, it indicated that I was a dual wielder of iris, which… with no point in refuting that fact since it was already logged, I agreed I was. But because the gear was busy inspecting my body, the doctor couldn’t individually scan my tattoos and, therefore, had no knowledge of my abilities. As I expected, the doctor walked over to the cabinets and returned with another invention created by Sorel in his hands, an iris scanner. Ryker once used one on me when I absorbed my first shard, and I’ve used the iris scanner plenty of times, so I understood how it worked.
Besides Ryker, who already assured me my secret was safe with him, I didn’t want the government to know I possessed two abilities. They might kill my mother if they figured out I was the culprit who had stolen an iris shard back then. I wasn’t willing to gamble on that possibility… so I decided this was a dire enough circumstance. And for the first time in a year, my eyes began to glow.