Soon after Bellarus finished speaking, the shocked recruits were told to stand and make an oath to the Pathfinders. It was a dire situation for Asterion, since he didn’t really believe in the cause.

It was strange to see a dozen people willing to go beyond the walls and die. That was what befell anyone who ventured past Hope’s safety.

Looking at the others present, Asterion was both terrified and in a somber mood. Some had the same face he did, that of shock and awe. Others were equally scared as well. Some even looked excited.

But one feeling was held collectively among the crowd. That of hope. It took a moment for Asterion to realize its feeling as what it was that tensed the air, but after watching the faces of the others for a few moments, it was clearly a sense of future.

‘What future, fools? To die beyond the walls, horribly to some beast, instead of in them?’ He thought, bitterly.

He didn’t know what tragic events befell the others, but nothing in his mind could have excused the desire to venture out of safety of Hope. He had never thought he would leave its walls. It just wasn’t worth dying for.

Yet he still had to make a terrible decision. That decision would change the course of his life, as short as it may be if he chose wrong…

The choice to make a false oath or not.

Now past the point of no return, there was no leaving. The armed Pathfinder, Brandon, still guarded the entrance door.

A battle was waged in his own mind, whether to draw the line and give up his facade at the oath, revealing himself as a fake… or to give in to his captors.

Asterion’s inner termoil was fruitless, however. He knew exactly what he would do. Perhaps, in a different life, he would have had the strength to resist. To dare his moral compass to switch polarity, but he could not. There really was no return.

Once he made an oath, he would keep to it.

It was funny, for something as easily given as one’s word to hold such weight even in the aftermath of treachery. Yet it did, for some reason. Asterion wasn’t sure why, but every part of his being was sure that holding himself to his own word was more important than even staying alive.

It put him above those around him. It separated the weak from the great. It was large enough to define a person. It is even what drove countless humans, in the wake of Earth’s disaster three centuries ago to their deaths with a smile. The stories of heroic individuals, known for their defiance in the face of death, not giving up even in the end to save the very people they said they’d protect when they could have saved themselves instead.

Well… in his mind at least.

‘Perhaps im a fool too.’ He thought, smiling.

Bellarus had made his way down the line of the front row, now standing just to his left in front of Aaron. Fear was leaking out of his pitched voice as he made the oath, but in the end, he recited Bellarus’ low speech word for word.

‘Well… here we go.’ He thought, somberly.

Then, Bellarus made a step to his left, now standing in front of Asterion. He remained silent, letting the air between them tense, just like he had done for the others. Though, knowing him a bit longer than the others, Asterion was sure he was just taking a moment to invade his thoughts, seeking for truth behind their oaths.

Asterion quickly regained his own composure, putting up an angry facade. He was ready to publicly refuse, to speak his own mind for the harsh treatment he has endured in the company of the Parhfinders. How, if he were not bound and capable, he would harm every person here for their individual parts in it. It would be difficult, to push blame to the people he hadn’t ever seen before, such as the new recruits, since they wanted the same thing that tricked him into following Bellarus.

But he would at least try…

Bellarus looked at Asterion with continuously darkening eyes as the silence between them lengthened. His eyebrows turned down and a frown formed on his lips, indicating that he understood.

He knew exactly what he was thinking. And Asterion was sure of it. He knew every reason for his refusal, every bruise and second of starvation that he had endured to bring him here, he read in his mind the bitter truth that Asterion had accepted long ago.

That truth being the world was cruel. It was cruel, especially, to people like him. With his parents death, the only people who cared about him were gone. What was left were the crumbs a crippled society gave to the unfortunate souls they felt even worse for. He was eating those crumbs each and every day, waiting for the moment that the crumbs were spread too thin and he starved.

Those crumbs took many forms. One could be literal starvation. But it could also be a choice between two deaths. Deaths that could have been easily avoided if he were someone important.

‘You people disgust me.’ Asterion thought, staring at Bellarus’s deadly gaze, matching it with his defiant own. He wanted him to hear it.

Then, when he was ready to open his mouth and refuse in front of everybody, a thought stopped him in his tracks.

‘You think death is the worst thing that can happen to you?’

He was taken aback, but regained his composure and then faked a slim smile.

The surprise of his own voice resounding inside his head was laughable to Asterion, considering it wasn’t even his own thought. Truthfully though, It was frightening, for your own voice to resound in your mind but not bear your thought. However, Asterion’s resignation of his fate triumphed any fear he was experiencing.

‘Of course you can communicate mentally. You’re starlit! Why wouldn’t you be able to? Is your bag of tricks getting light yet?’ He thought sarcastically.

‘God, your pathetic. You sit here, after claiming you want a better life than the one owed to you, and are willing to take anything, but when it’s presented to you on a platter, that just because it’s different to how you imagined, you would rather die because your, what, more morally righteous than the people next to you?’ The voice resounded in his head once more.

‘Is that what you think this is? That I think I’m better than these people for not wanting to be kidnapped and forced to join your stupid cult?’

Bellarus, who stood just in front of Asterion, twitched his eyes a little at the mention of ‘cult’.

‘Yes. You do think you are better than them. You think you’re the only person who’s thoughts im able to see? I see each and every one of them, their reasons, doubts, and ambitions. You, by far, are the most rediculous one of the group. Each of them were promised nothing different than you, and still, even with less than them, you would think yourself more righteous than them to refuse our path?’

A hint of sadness formed on Bellarus’ lips, before his voice continued, sounding like he did when he was sad.

‘Yes, I suppose you would rather die starved and forgotten in the streets of the great Citadel of Hope than to be accepting of people brave enough to seek a better future. They sit around you right now. Take a better look so you don’t forget them when your hungry later. My apologies for thinking I could have helped you. Refuse. We won’t kill you, just keep you in a cell till we leave the city. You’ll be fine, and you will go back to your eventful life of starving for food and seeking shelter.’

After that, the pause that enveloped them was incredibly tense. It may have been strange from an outside view, the two of them staring at each other. The others were watching them, confused, waiting for Bellarus to start the oath, but only those closest could feel the tension. They shifted uncomfortably, but Bellarus ignored them all, staring at Asterion with piercing gaze.

Then…

Silence.

Silence that felt like it lasted forever. He couldn’t think of a rebuttal.

Asterion stood, wide eyed, looking at Bellarus. Still bound, he shifted to lean toward his other side to hide the uncomfortable feeling seeping up through him. His mouth, long dried of saliva and still bloody red, left him unable to swallow properly, as if his throat would not allow him to. The feeling was a silent agony. Not one that physically affected him, but a symptom of a larger disease, evidenced by his crowding thoughts.

Bellarus’s words hit him harder than any physical blow he had received recently, or any he could receive for that matter.

His words, while harsh, were true.

The feeling he grew was slowly forming into a gut wrenching realization.

He forgot the entire reason he followed Bellarus to this building in the first place. It wasn’t simply because he thought it might be a better opportunity. Rather, it was because no matter what else there was to the offer, no matter what else he would have to endure…

it was better than what awaited him elsewhere, regardless of its faults.

The starvation, homelessness, and constant survival game society forced him to play was tiring and suffocating. Worse, it would not diminish with going to work in a factory for money. Sure, he could fix one or most of the three temporarily… but when he inevitably got sick or injured, he would suffer just the same as he did before he started.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

He was too focused on the negative of his situation to see its potential. The starvation that, in his mind at least, led to being tricked and punched may have been the main culprits… but he let himself be blinded by them, reliving their painful memory and exchanging it for a death warrant…

A path that led outside the walls, and braving the harsh world out there was in reality little different from the harsh world inside Hope.

Staying inside Hope was just more hopeless.

Asterion looked at the other recruits sheepishly, breaking the tense staring contest. Aaron, Peter, and Daren were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to join them in their vow. Bellarus did not move, still staring with darkened eyes, giving him a moment of reprieve in his own thoughts. He was sure he could still read them, and was watching his thought process proceed.

He sighed, now guilt ridden and anxious.

It was hard for a person to admit they are wrong. He didn’t forgive Bellarus for lying to him about the job, and he especially couldn’t forgive Brandon, who still stood in the back, for his transgressions. But…

After walking through the city of Hope for years without hope for his own future, he almost didn’t recognize it. Asterion felt a dense veil uncovering, showing him opportunity for the first time in so long.

Bellarus nodded subtly so that only Asterion could notice, his expression lightening, but maintaining a serious demeanor as Asterion came to his own answer. Clearly waiting to hear it thought vividly.

With a final anxious sigh, he thought, with as much conviction he could muster.

‘My path takes me with you. There is nothing for me here anymore, there hasn’t been for a long time...’ he paused momentarily, then continued, ‘I will take the oath. And I will keep to it.’

Bellarus responded aloud, a sly smile breaking through his serious expression.

“With such conviction? You’ll do just fine. Repeat after me…”

Asterion didn’t waiver once speaking the words directly to Bellarus. It was oddly intimate, to have the person who brought you initiate your oath as well. Still, since Asterion didn’t know the contents of the oath he was taking, Bellarus used his power and spoke the oath into his head, like he had done with the others, allowing them to repeat it out loud with slightly more grace…

“

To the Pathfinders, I give my oath of fealty. Until my final breath, my loyalty shall remain unbroken. Through my life, I will serve humanity, carving a path toward a greater tomorrow. Through my death, I shall become the foundation upon which that future is built.

As the constellations guide the lost, so too shall I guide those who follow, and by my light, forge a way forward for humanity.

For the next generation, I pledge not only survival, but a chance to thrive. In the depths of despair, we will rise. From the heart of danger, we will prevail.

For I now bear the title Pathfinder.

“

When he was finished, Bellarus nodded once more, this time with much more depth and pride flashing across his face, and spoke into his mind once more before moving on to the second row of standing recruits behind him.

‘Good choice.’ His own voice resounded, sounding hollow.

Soon after the last recruit finished their oaths, Asterion was untied by Bellarus before he gave another speech, acting nonchalant as ever. This one was much more personal, about his own family and his experience becoming a pathfinder. He spoke about the harsh reality of being called a pathfinder years ago compared to today, and how the newer generation is much more inclined to join because of the way the government has grown incapable in the eyes of the people.

After the speech, Asterion had managed to find his way to the bathroom, using it to wash most of the blood that covered his mouth and chin away. It was a little uncomfortable because his hands had been in one position for hours. The water did nothing to hide the blood that had seeped into his shirt, though.

Inside the bathroom, Asterion took a moment and looked in the mirror, realizing it was the first time in many hours he got a moment of respite from having other people around. The whole time he stood at the sink, staring at a portion in the mirror where a line fractured the reflective surface, splitting it into multiple hanging pieces. It hung just above the counter, somehow hanging on with its shattered surface. The sink below ran with water a shade darker than most clean water. It was obviously too dirty to drink, and would sicken him if he tried. But it worked its magic to create a more soothing environment compared to the one he had just been subjected to a little bit ago. He had realized that something about the sound of flowing water just calmed him a long time ago.

A tear formed in his eyes. It had taken a lot of thought within himself to make the oath, but it changed nothing for the fact he would have a much different life than he imagined. Whether for better or worse, he was now a pathfinder.

As he stood, watching himself, thoughts that were suppressed into the back of his mind and the consequences of his actions were slowly rising to the surface, filling him with inconsistencies. It felt as if a small hairline crack was forming on his heart.

The acceptance of his new peers would not happen overnight, of course. He was now one of them, and to hate them would be akin to hating himself. The change from believing the pathfinders were insane to being one himself was also heavy on his mind.

The hairline crack grew a bit longer.

‘Perhaps that’s why he allowed me to swear the oath. He saw ill keep to it no matter what I believe about them...’ He thought, bitterly.

It wasn’t the fact that he didn’t believe the pathfinders weren’t extremists anymore. He still thought they were absolutely insane to go beyond Hope’s safe walls. Rather, it was the fact that he was willing to become one himself. He was just an insane man now, as well.

Nevertheless, it was both exhilarating and terrifying. He swore the oath, and he knew he was going to keep his word. It was his line, after all. But in the loneliness of the small room, the unsettled emotions of his past were rising, too. The crack was growing to form on his own heart, just like the mirror. After a long while of staring at himself in the damaged mirror, he let the wall he had long built up over the years crumble.

The anger at the numerous people who had wronged him.. the fear of not having safety.. the desire for a better future…

In the bathroom, it all culminated into a small panic attack. He gasped for air as a silent tears dripped from the edges of his unmoving eyes down his cheeks and into the sink. Never once did he move his sight from himself, nor did any noise leave his lips. Here, he could let it go, and decompress for a brief moment where nobody would witness his weakness.

He stayed like that, for a while gathering his own strength to face the consequences of his oath and continue on. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have a lot of privacy outside the walls. Privacy usually meant being alone, and being alone outside the walls meant certain death…

In the end, the tears left Asterion feeling both slightly relieved and bitterly defeated. He could continue on, now, shoving whatever harrowing pains he was about to endure as a pathfinder down into the depths of his heart, and continue to masquerade as someone strong enough to be worth giving a life to.

Taking one last look at the mirror, he moved and shut off the sink running the spoiled water, and wiped a last tear from his cheek to clean up the physical evidence of his clashing spirit.

Walking out of the bathroom, he found his way back to the center room to mingle with the others. He had carefully avoided Brandon, now conversing with a few recruits grouped together to the side, knowing he wasn’t quite ready to talk to him.

He may not outright try and kill him immediately for causing his starvation, knocking him out, and binding him up… but he wasn’t sure that he could prevent himself from provoking the man—who still had a sword… who was also now his superior into attacking him, instead.

‘Ha… I don’t think I could even if I wanted to right now…’

Asterion was a bit out of his head at the moment. He wanted to try to make some friends, if he could. There were many choices, considering he was already decently acquainted with 4 of the people present. But there was something stopping him emotionally from bridging that gap. He felt hollow, tired even from letting all the bottled up emotions out for the first time in a long while.

So, he decided to just avoid everyone all together, taking his original seat and moving it to the end of the room, where he could be alone, and watched the crowd from a distance.

It… looked a bit strange.

It wasn’t a very big room. And he wasn’t very far from everybody. He could hear what they were saying, and they could see him clearly watching them.

When Aaron noticed him sitting alone, he waved Asterion over, but he just shook his head and continued people watching. Suddenly, a thought popped into his head, making him more lively…

‘Wait. Am I even going to be an assistant?’