Before leaving, I quickly swapped my now shredded tunic from home to a red one that was tucked into my sleeping alcove. Aphos had the rest of the Neophytes who hadn’t changed yet do the same, so when we marched out it was obvious which Order we all belonged to even if we didn’t have the fiery hair or eyes yet.

The walk to the Melee took us back through the sword curtain. Aphos and most Acolytes brushed through the blades as if they were mere beads, clearly possessing the same strength of skin I now had or something similar. I couldn’t accomplish the task as smoothly as they could though, since, at my level, when I tried to toughen my whole body it became stiff. However, by tightening my left arm and shoulder and leading with them, I was able to move along much more easily than almost all of my fellow Neophytes, many of whom, like Aldric, cursed as they received cuts from the hanging weapons.

The moment bolstered my confidence further, reaffirming my first choice of mastery. I also idly wondered who sharpened all the blades. With how wide and deep the hanging was, I still believed there to be hundreds of the elongated swords. Perhaps it was a task that fell to us Neophytes. If so, I was doubly glad of my pick.

After that, we traveled down a stone hallway lit by softly glowing balls of bluish white light held in round cages of iron. I vaguely remembered having passed through this place after kneeling before the Warrior Elder, but somehow this time my steps did not return me to the Scrying Pool. Instead, the tunnel had an elbow turn that led into a long straightaway. Tall wooden doors dotted the walls at intervals, but Aphos did not slow his exceptionally long stride, so we were given no chance to explore.

We passed an adjoining hall that seemed just as long and straight as ours, threatening to break my understanding of the shape of the Tower, even though our teachers in the Crim had told us countless times that the innards of the celestial structure didn’t obey the laws of standard spatial restrictions. To distract myself from the oddity, I focused on the smell of the place. I mostly caught the musky tang of sweat from my fellow Neophytes, a product of their practice with their new masteries and, undoubtedly, their excitement for the Melee to come. But beneath that, I detected something foreign. It was a crisp, almost metallic smell that made my nostrils feel cool even though the air around us was a pleasant temperature. Was this the scent of the Celestial Realm, beyond the Limness and the Gate of the Ascended? Or was this simply the air that circulated within the Tower itself? For some reason the smell made me think of secrets.

Not long after, we passed another adjoining hall. Aphos kept moving straight as an arrow, but from the connecting path Tamra caught up with us, along with two other Neophytes, Chikra and Ivun, as well as an Acolyte with bright orange hair, just as Aldric had described, all of them easily folding into our loosely formed ranks.

Tamra wore an empty leather scabbard at her waist that flapped against her leg as she dashed over to us. She was absolutely beaming, the sword the scabbard was made for cradled in her arms.

“Look at her,” she said, though she didn’t reveal more of the hand and a half blade to us. “Isn’t she perfect?”

Aldric made a show of looking at the pommel, hilt, and guard tucked underneath Tamra’s chin, as well as the length of blade that extended past her crossed arms. He shrugged when his inspection was finished.

“Doesn’t look like anything special to me.”

Tamra hissed at both of us, knowing that my lack of response meant I felt the same. She expertly took the dark, leather-wrapped grip in one hand and flipped the blade around, so its point hovered in front of each of our faces for a few seconds apiece. The threat didn’t slow any of us down, but I had to admit, seeing it that closely, it did seem sharp.

Aldric rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yes, Tam,” he said. “It’s pointy and all that. It’s a sword. They’ll surely give us all matching ones whenever we’re set to fight against each other.”

“It’s not the same,” Tamra told us both like we were absolute dolts.

“Because it’s yours?” I ventured.

“Because,” Tamra said, and the fingers of her off hand lightly trailed the metal surface, “it’s part of me. I can sense it, the same as I can any other part of my body. You could hide it in a room, under as many things as you like, even the floorboards, and I’d know exactly where it is.” She grinned at us fiendishly. “I can’t lose it, and it can never, ever be taken from me.”

“Is that all?” Aldric said with a yawn.

While I had agreed with Adlric’s initial view of the sword, he was taking things too far now just to annoy Tamra for leaving him behind.

Predictably, she snapped at him. “All? How many of your sword strokes have missed because you failed to judge the reach of your weapon properly?” Aldric opened his mouth to reply, but Tamra rode over him. “And don’t tell me ‘a few’ unless you’re going to say ‘a few hundred’. Even you could hit your target with this blade. Not that I’ll ever let you borrow her.”

I didn’t think Tamra’s Bond Mastery would transfer to anyone she might lend the sword to, but she seemed more interested in the insult than accuracy, so I didn’t mention it.

“Yes, well,” Aldric said, “that’s fine and all, but compared to this…” He gave me a look, and I gave an imperceptible nod back, seeing no reason to put off what he wanted. Tamra had stepped in front of us when threatening with the sword, but now she was on Aldric’s left, meaning there was no one in the way when he crystallized his right hand and punched me in the face. I hadn’t expected him to strike me there, but I still managed to stiffen the skin of my cheek and jaw in time. I closed my eyes as his milky crystal shattered upon impact, feeling shards skitter across the untoughened parts of my body, like my forehead and neck. A few stung, but opening my eyes, it didn’t seem like any had cut me.

Tamra was farther ahead now, the two of us having slowed for the punch and reaction. One of the Acolytes loomed over our shoulders, and Aldric and I quickly picked up the pace, getting back in line with Tamra. She was leaning forward, staring at us both in turn, so I could see her red eyebrows scrunched together.

“I can also sense if she’s damaged,” Tamra said, “and with a few more masteries, I’ll be able to alter her shape.”

“A few more masteries won’t help you today,” Aldric said, sounding quite pleased with himself. He even hooked his thumbs into the waist of his pants for added swagger.

“In the Melee?” Tamra said with a huff, looking straight again. “I know.”

“What do you know?” I asked her around Aldric.

“Why?” Tamra said, eying me back. “Didn’t the Acolytes tell you?”

“We didn’t talk with them,” I said.

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Of course you didn’t. Not when you had new toys to play with.”

“He slept the whole morning.” Aldric said, defensively.

That didn’t have anything to do with it, but I didn’t bother correcting him.

“Guess you’ll both just have to wait and see,” Tamra said, finally sheathing her sword with a loud shunk sound.

I was halfway through debating if complementing her new weapon or insulting Aldric would convince her to at least tell me what to expect when our group reached a large arched entryway, twice as tall as our giant leader. I could hear a hubbub of noise from within, but Aphos had not only halted but turned to look back upon us, and his softly glowing countenance drew my attention.

“Today you will face off against the other Neophytes,” he intoned, “ones who used to be your brothers and sisters.” His gaze swept across us, and any who hadn’t already quieted did so now. “They are a distraction. All that matters is your placement among us, your fellow Warriors. Once you have risen in our ranks, no one else will be able to stand before you.”

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I noticed that Aldric looked skeptical at these words, and Tamra seemed to be enjoying our hall leader’s jawline more than his speech. It was difficult to believe that we could afford to ignore the other orders, but Aphos had achieved the rank of Devout and had faced the same challenges that we were about to. So, when his red eyes fell upon me, I gave him a tight nod to show that I understood and would obey.

Whether it was my confirmation or that of another Neophyte, Aphos seemed satisfied, turning on his heel and leading us into the Melee. We followed dutifully, the taller Acolytes bordering us, as if planning to herd us to a particular spot. Passing under the arch, my eyes were immediately drawn to the far wall. Attached to it was a bisected mountain taller than any other building in Misfell save the Tower, at least fifty meters high from the base that bulged into the room to the peak at the top. The indoor butte seemed fused to the smooth marble wall, giving it no back half, and though it appeared made of stone too – as one would expect of a mountain – parts of it were much smoother and angular than any rock formation I had before seen, hinting that magic had been used in its making. I supposed that made sense, as surely such a thing couldn’t be a natural construction.

I was going to ask Tamra and Aldric their thoughts on the matter, but I saw they were focused on something else entirely. While the summit was part of a flat wall, the other half of the room curved to make a half circle. In that curve were tiered seats, made of painted wood that fanned out in seven distinct colors. Our group was making our way toward the red seats, placed in the middle and the largest of the colors. Tamra, however, was looking past that area to a sliver of black seats where Celeste stood with a few others.

“Not sure that ‘Bond’ of yours will stack up to whatever mastery she has now,” Aldric said to Tamra. “Probably best you stay near us during what’s to come.”

“I’ll stay near if you can keep up,” she said. “I’m getting to the top of that mountain.” Her attention never leaving Celeste as she spoke took some of the force from her claim, and when the slim girl spotted us and grinned wickedly in our direction, Tamra’s hand tightened on her sword hilt.

Knowing my sister, I was sure that she did plan to reach the peak, but if the opportunity came to knock Celeste around first, it was obvious which she’d choose. Not that I was worried; Celeste couldn’t match the three of us, especially since her Order was so small compared to ours, and that meant putting her down wouldn’t take long.

So, I scanned the room looking for Maphen. I still didn’t know which Order he had chosen to join, other than it hadn’t been the Warrior’s Hall. I failed to find him among those gathered, but I did spot some other Devout, each of them standing out due to their height and softly luminescent flesh. A girl with a tight green braid had her hand touching an enormous silver leopard, her caress on the beast’s head as loving as Tamra’s was with her sword. If their physical connection hadn’t been enough to mark them as a pair, the girl’s pointed and slightly tufted ears, as well as the similarly shaped spots along her skin, cemented the connection. Less grand but just as obvious due to his size, was a boy with straight, whitish-yellow hair standing on the wide floor between where the mountain and seats began. There was an oval table in front of him of all things, and upon it were cubes of golden light. Each was perhaps half the size of a small loaf of bread, and they were stacked upon each other, forming two pyramids at either end of the table. Watching, I saw one of the green-haired Beast Kin trade the tall boy what I swore were teeth for a cube. Having purchased it, the Beast Kin bit into it and chewed, light spilling more brightly from the strange object and completely mystifying me.

We were seated shortly after that, the acolytes having us sit near the bottom while they took the upper benches, presumably to watch over us or perhaps because they provided a better view of the mountain which stood before us. I still ended up on the third tier, which let me see more than when I had been walking. It was then I spotted the Devout of the Assassin Order, standing by a different archway than the one we had entered from. He was rail thin, his chin length black hair partially obscuring a face that was already covered by a mask. He would have loomed over a regular-sized person, but the girl he was talking to was just as tall as he was. The pair of them were also exchanging things, but from the distance I couldn’t tell if teeth were being used again. I did see something blue flash though, as the Assassin tucked it quickly into a pocket, the object a similar color to the girl’s hair. When the transaction was done, he came back into the room while she left, making me wonder if she was getting more goods to sell. Perhaps she was the Alchemist Devout?

I might have asked someone, but then I saw Aphos nearing the Devout level Assassin. Our Hall leader had been at the front of our section only a moment ago, so I had no idea how he had crossed the intervening distance so quickly.

Aldric said something to me then, but I didn’t pay attention, much more curious to see how these two particular Hall leaders would treat each other. Aphos paused as if he might say something to the other boy, but the thin Assassin slunk past him without so much as looking the wide Warrior’s way. If Aphos was frustrated by this, I didn’t see the signs. Instead, he looked the other way and gave a great laugh, which I felt Tamra shift upon hearing and I was sure others did, too. The cause of it wasn’t clear until a smiling brown-haired boy entered the room through the archway Aphos was now by. The new arrival was carrying a huge sword, which he was only able to carry because he was just as tall and nearly as wide as Aphos. With the weapon and his brown hair, this had to be the Artisan Head of Hall.

The sword was handed over without any form of payment, and Aphos somehow managed to swing the great blade one-handed in a few test arcs. There were red runes running down the side of the dark, iron weapon, which trailed light at the movement, the blade so thick I didn’t even think it had an edge.

One of the Acolytes above us whisted, and Tamra said, “By the Saints…”

“Now that’s a weapon to be proud of,” Aldric commented.

I heard the thump of a fist striking flesh. “Shut up, you cretin.”

I glanced back at my siblings to see Aldric rubbing his arm, but a murmur from the yellow section beside us, Healers I guessed, seemed more important. Coming from another archway entrance set above the curved bench seats was a collection of purple-haired individuals. A tall girl led them, with dark, shimmering tresses framing her beautiful face. A few paces behind her was Maphen, talking with a boy who looked to be of Acolyte rank. Unsurprisingly, the group sat in the purple section, which was just as narrow as the Assassin area, and far to the left. The gorgeous girl gestured, and a young boy left the group, dashing over to where the Healer Devout was selling his glowing food. More teeth exchanged hands, and the boy departed with his arms full, carrying enough for all eight or nine of the Summoners to have some.

Suddenly, my head began to throb, and I brought a hand up to it. Was it a delayed affect of last night’s drinking? A grunt from Aldric, and a hiss from Tamra let me know that I wasn’t the only one experiencing the unexpected discomfort. But why would it have struck us all now?

“Welcome,” a voice rasped, and I looked up to see a pale man standing before us. He was dressed in the flowing yellow robes of a Healer, but there was bright red stitched around the edges, and he himself did not seem particularly healthy, with sunken eyes and thin hair. Floating behind his head was the same sort of astral imagery I had seen from the Warrior Elder, but this one was a bright sun, difficult to look into, and the pain I was feeling intensified, causing me to wince.

“Yes, welcome,” another voice said, much smoother than the Healer’s.

It had come from above, so like everyone else around me, I looked up. It was a woman with bushy brown hair, holding onto a large poll in one hand that was topped by something spinning so quickly I couldn’t fully see it. The contraption was letting her – the Artisan Elder no doubt – slowly fall to the ground. Above her, the ceiling was a hazy blue. Had she come through that?

She landed lightly on the ground beside the Healer Elder, the aura behind her of smoke, glowing coals, and the ring of a hammer on anvil. I could even taste the forge on the back of my tongue, despite her being good five meters away. The top of the whirring pole slowed to a stop, and I saw then that it was a long blade of sorts, angled sideways instead of up like a spear would be. An odd device to be sure, but apparently an effective way to travel.

“You have been through the Thresher,” the Healer continued in his harsh voice, “as well as the Scrying Pool, and even spent a night with your own Order.”

There was a brief rumble of excitement from the Neophytes and some of the Acolytes at the mention of the last. Apparently, those in the other Halls had enjoyed themselves last night just as much as we had.

“But today marks your first true act within the Tower as Neophytes.” The Elder’s throat seemed so tortured, I couldn’t understand why he didn’t use healing on himself. “As with many things in war, it is more efficient to show you than explain.”

“Yes,” the Artisan Elder agreed, leaning on her tall pole in a relaxed way, “watch closely, for in short order it will be your turn.”

That created another murmur in the room, one with a completely different feel than the last. I found myself clenching my hands without realizing, and my heart was definitely eager, thump-thumping like I was out for a run.

“Aphos,” the Healer called. Our Head of Hall moved to where the two Elders stood at the base of the mountain, and I saw he wore an overlarge harness on his back now, which the thick sword just fit into. “Risahned.” The Beast Kin Devout leapt down from her bench seat, her snow leopard sailing after in a graceful arc that belied its size. “Zoaelia.” The beautiful Summoner walked down the tops of seats to get to the floor and then sauntered across the hall. “Ender.” I looked for movement, but instead of finding whoever that was, when my eyes returned to the Elders the thin, masked Assassin was now with them.

The list stopped there, and I looked at my siblings, hoping one of them had the answer.

“The support Orders usually don’t engage in this type of thing,” Tamra said.

I nodded at the sense of the words; she really had learned more than us about the Melee.

“This mountain must be climbed,” the Artisan said, “just as the Tower must.”

Standing one beside the next at the base of the angular structure, the four Heads of Hall looked almost normal-sized – an impression that was enhanced by the fact that both Elders were taller than they were.

“Begin,” the Healer rasped, and I couldn’t help but roar an encouraging shout, standing up in my seat as I did. Many of my fellows joined me, and others around the room quickly did the same. I thought I saw Aphos toss a grin over his shoulder, and then he was climbing, racing toward the prize and honor for all of us Warriors.