Ten years ago…

Kalan Rinn, acolyte of the Great Temple, stood before the elders. His shoulders were tense, back as unyielding as a titanium rod. He faced them with a fixed, blank expression. He wouldn’t show weakness. He wouldn’t show them fear, even though he knew what was coming. He refused to glance aside at his father, afraid of what he might see. His father had poured all of his knowledge and secrets into his only son. His father who had once said that Kalan showed more promise than any acolyte in three generations. Kalan knew that if he looked and saw disappointment on that face, it would break him. So, Kalan didn’t look.

No, it was far easier to face down the dread disapproval of Merisel Teth. She glared down at him in open hostility, judgment etched in every line of her lean, unforgiving face. There would be no reprieve from that face. How could there be? It was her duty to be unforgiving. Any lapse had to be met with swift and unyielding punishment. Otherwise, discipline would crack and then shatter. Whatever potential he had shown, whatever greatness he might have achieved, it all meant nothing now. He knew it. In that moment, he saw that she recognized that knowledge in him. It was only there for a fraction of an instant, but he saw it. A heartbeat of compassion given to a doomed soul. Then, the compassion was gone and only stern, pitiless duty remained.

“Kalan Rinn,” she said.

It wasn’t lost on him that she’d left off the honorific of acolyte.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Do you offer any defense for your actions?”

He’d thought long and hard about the answer to this question. Could he defend what he’d done? At first, he’d thought that maybe there was some mitigating circumstance that might soften the blow. In the end, though, he had broken Code. He’d killed another acolyte when he might have done otherwise.

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Kalan took a breath and answered. “No. There is no defense.”

There were a few startled expressions among the elders. Perhaps they’d expected pleas for mercy or some long-winded explanation. He didn’t know and supposed he never would. Merisel Teth stared down at him for what felt like a very long time. He saw her eyes flicker toward his father.

“Salis Rinn, do you wish to speak on his behalf?” She asked, her eyes once more fixed on Kalan.

Kalan hadn’t discussed this with his father. He had expected to stand here alone.

“No, Elder. I come here only as a father, not a member of the Temple.”

There were more surprised expressions and a few uncertain glances traded between the elite of the Temple. Kalan wondered what had they expected. The Rinn family had served the Temple for fifty generations. They knew the Code as well as any family could. The outcome of this moment was never in doubt. Kalan steadied his nerves as he waited for them to pass judgment. He’d face it like a Rinn, eyes open and without flinching.

Merisel Teth took another long moment to stare down at the two of them. She finally nodded at the two men and withdrew for a moment to speak with the other elders in a quiet murmur. After a relative eternity, the elders stood in a unified front, their faces neutral and their postures rigid. Merisel Teth took a single step forward.

“Kalan Rinn, you have broken Code. Had you prevaricated or denied responsibility, you would have been put to death.”

Kalan blinked and felt his father’s involuntary jerk beside him. They’d both expected a death sentence. Breaking Code was always a death sentence for anyone of age. Kalan was in his final year as an acolyte. He had come of age as all acolytes did in their final year.

“Yet,” said Merisel, her expression distant and pensive, “yet, the elders are not blind. We are well aware that you did not seek out the fight. You took every avenue to avoid it. This, despite provocations that would have strained the outer limits of tolerance in those far more experienced than you. Therefore, your life is not forfeit.”

Something threatened to snap inside Kalan’s chest as he realized that he would, in fact, see tomorrow. Hope, he realized. He had hope again. That moment was immediately squashed by the elder’s next words.

“You are stripped of your place as an acolyte. You are stripped of citizenship. You are banished from this world,” she said in iron tones before Kalan saw another flash of compassion. “We grant you one day to settle your affairs. If you are found here after that, or ever return, you will be executed on the spot. This is our judgment.”