I woke up alone and stiff, my red tunic soaked through from a night spent in front of Boast’s fire. Walking back to the circle of alcoves, which served as our sleeping nooks, I found some of my fellow Neophytes up and stretching, while Chikra and Ivun lay twined together in a corner of the floor, their weapons laying closer to them than their clothes. I finally saw Tamra and Aldric, the two sleeping on opposite sides of the room, which let me breathe easier – though I couldn’t rightly say why. I had never thought of either as anything more than the closest of siblings, and that was how I still saw them. It was probably because I hadn’t finished taking the antidote the night before, but a strong part of me wanted to believe that I would always see them that way.

Perhaps I was just being childish.

Aldric was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his chosen alcove, and Tamra looked like she might still be asleep, her back to me. I hung there for a moment, on the edge of the sleeping quarters, wondering if the thick ring I wore on the middle finger of my right had would offer me a nudge of wisdom as to how I might best proceed. My mind, however, remained silent; or at least silent of thoughts other than my own. Apparently this awkward situation wasn’t something the magical creation could help me learn to handle faster.

A sound behind me turned my head to see Shanel descending the stairs that led to the Acolyte quarters. Her shoulder length hair was messed and her tunic rumpled, but she looked happier than I had ever seen her before. I wasn’t the only one to notice her arrival, Gimit putting two fingers into his mouth to produce a sharp whistle, which jerked those who weren’t already up into the land of the waking.

“No so loud, Gim,” Shanel chided, though her large grin took all the sting from her words.

“Not on your life,” Gimit answered back, his words, as always, spoken bigger than they needed to be; perhaps he was a natural Warrior that way. “You should wear it as a badge of honor, only Neo among us invited to the second floor.”

Shanel blushed at the praise, taking the rest of the steps with her head tilted down but a wide smile still stuck to her face.

“Hope Faron invites me up next time,” Deq said from where he grunted on the floor, doing one-arm pushups – the power of the Greater Strength Mastery continuing to amaze me each time I saw it on display.

“I could see if Holis would put in a good word for you with her,” Shanel offered as she passed him. Reaching the curved wall, she used a ladder cut into the stone to climb into an upper alcove, where she swapped her current red tunic for a fresh one. I didn’t remember extras being there the night before, but maybe some of the failed students who still lived in the Tower and acted as cleaners and cooks had put it there. The Artisan Deacon in the Cathedral had said we’d see them rarely and speak with them less, but their efforts were instrumental to the running of the school and our success Might it have been Fia or Leeks who was assigned such a task? If so, how odd that must have been for them so soon after leaving us.

Deq finished his current set and rolled over with a long sigh. “I’d owe you plenty for sure if you did,” he told her. “I’d die a thousand more times just to feel her body up against mine.”

Was Faron the name of Acolyte I had been drawn to? If so, shouldn’t I be asking Shanel to do the same for me? Surely if I offered her some time with the ring, she’d agree. I stopped myself, annoyed. Shanel was already ranked number two. I should use the ring to help those who were lower to rise, and Tamra and Aldric first, of course. Yet again these unwanted attractions were nothing but a distraction.

“Matchmaker, Shanel,” Chikra laughed from the side in a husky voice. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

I somehow forgot the girl on the floor was naked, and so got an eyeful of much more than I would have wished when I turned to see if she had anything else to say. Ivun gave me a dangerous look, and I quickly averted my gaze, only to see that Gimit and Deq seemed more than happy to keep staring in Chikra’s direction.

A loud clap stopped what might have otherwise escalated into a fight, and the sound turned out to be none other than Aphos, standing in the doorway of swords. He appeared like a man newly returned home, his tunic torn in places it hadn’t been when last I saw him and I had a good guess as to not only what but who had been the cause.

“Come on, you louts,” he said with a grin equal to Shanel’s. “Time to start training.”

“We don’t get any food first?” Aldric asked.

Aphos frowned. “Eating before working with Voshra is a sure way to spend the morning emptying your innards in the least pleasant way possible. Better to go to the Mess after, if you still have an appetite.”

I wanted to change out of my damp tunic before meeting what would surely be another Deacon, maybe even the Warrior Elder, but our Head of Hall had told us to leave, so I lined up in front of him. When a few seconds had passed and no one else had joined me yet, Aphos clapped his hands again and shouted louder than Gimit could ever hope to: “LET’S GO!” which got them all moving like a demon was nipping at their heels.

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***

The walk to the Warrior’s Round took less time than going from our Hall to the tall chamber where the Melee had been held. However, the trip still afforded me the opportunity to speak with Tamra, who was marching along near the front of the pack while Aldric hung closer to the back, his fingers laced behind his head, walking at a meandering pace.

Tamra greeted me normally enough and agreed to move a bit off to the side with me so we could speak without others overhearing. I used the opportunity to bring up Emsi, who I was glad to see was still with us, though she looked gloomy and wasn’t talking with anyone else.

Tamra listened as I told her the story and didn’t mock me, which I would have found strange at another time, but then instead of offering to help, she said, “Better she goes if she wants. I’m sure Aphos will let her leave, or one of the teachers.”

“But one less Warrior now is one less fighter in the War to come,” I said. “We need as many as possible if we’re going to finally win.”

“That’s how you think, Sett,” she answered matter-of-factly. “But that doesn’t mean I have to agree. I want someone at my side who is fully committed to the fight. Anything less than that could get us all killed.”

I couldn’t tell if she was referring to my hesitation to kill Oph in the Melee, but she had been long gone by then, so I couldn’t imagine that was it. I knew she wasn’t happy to be lower than both Aldric and me on the ranking board, and I was even more sure that she’d change that fact during the next Melee, but neither of those things got me closer to convincing her to help Emsi. With me not speaking, she assumed our talk was over, or perhaps she just wanted it to be, so moved back to the front of our group, near Aphos who was leading the way.

The room he brought us to had a low, circular entryway that our Head of Hall would have needed to duck to fit through. Instead, he didn’t go in, making sure that each of the eleven of us made it through.

“Remember,” he said as I passed, “if they’re hungry, you must be starving to stay on top.”

While I appreciated the encouragement, it felt odd to me to put so much focus on where we stood in relationship to each other. Much of what Leeks had said when he had left the day before rang true to me, though I hadn’t let myself think on it much as that would mean questioning those ranked higher than me in the Tower. The truth was that I wanted to learn tactics about defeating the demons who we would eventually fight, or the dangers of the Tower we would need to climb to reach the Everwar. When would I get the chance to try my Toughened Skin against a demon like the one we had faced in the Door Test? Or if they didn’t think us ready for that particular beast, the smaller one from the Thresher? I had much preferred us working together during that test than all of us at each other’s throats in the Melee, even if I had won it.

My fellow Neophytes had made a loose ring around a woman with raven hair who sat in the middle of the stone floor in the round room, so I joined them. As I did, I recognized her as the same one who had greeted us rather coldly after our first death, saying that we all performed below her expectation. From that brief interaction, I could already tell that she would be a tough teacher, and I readied myself to find a way to live up to her lofty expectations.

She rose to her feet, surprising me by stumbling slightly, as if she was unsteady. The woman – Voshra, Aphos had called her – looked groggily around at each of us in turn. Closer to her now than we had been during our first meeting, I saw that she had dark red irises, the mark of the Warrior Order, as well as a red tinge to the rest of her eyes, like she had only recently gotten out of bed or never went there in the first place. I wasn’t sure why her hair was black instead of red, but she looked in no sort of mood for questions asked to satisfy mere curiosity.

“There were more of you before,” she finally said.

When no one answered, I took it upon myself as the highest ranked of us to respond.

“Two of our fellow…Warriors,” I said, still having trouble not calling Fia and Leeks my sister and brother, “decided not to continue on.”

Considering how harsh the Deacon had been to us before, I worried she would say something disparaging, but instead she said: “Which among you has Greater Strength?”

Nearly half our number tentatively raised their hands: Shanel, Gimit, Hyro, and Deq.

“Strike me,” Voshra said, motioning them forward. At first the four hesitated, but then Hyro, who I had found dead along with Fia during the Melee, rushed in and struck our teacher in the ribs. When Voshra didn’t retaliate, the others joined in, punching and sometimes kicking, circling the woman who was taller than Aphos to have room to land a blow. I had assumed our teacher would dodge the attacks, or show us how we weren’t doing them correctly, but instead she accepted every hit without so much as flinching – in fact, I saw her yawn between two thudding blows to her face. Even stranger, she barely moved, her feet sliding a few centimeters one direction and then another after taking an especially strong hit, but that was all, like she was more rock than person, even magically refined strength only able to slightly budge her.

After a few minutes of us watching our new instructor get pummeled, she finally gestured for them to stop. The four Neophytes backed away, breathing hard after clearly giving it their all, while Voshra didn’t look the worse for wear – if anything, she looked more refreshed than before.

“Better,” she said to no one in particular. “Not as good as another drink but better.”

“Did the teachers revel last night, too?” Aldric asked, clearly having heard her.

The woman looked my brother's way – I wouldn’t change him or Tamra in my mind at least.

“Only me,” she answered, “and it was no revel.”

“Why?” Emsi asked, perhaps sensing a kindred spirit.

“The Seventh Gate was overrun last night, and we lost my mentor, one of the most skilled Warriors the Tower has ever produced.” She looked up as if she could see through the low ceiling, all the way up to the floor on which he had died. When she looked back down at us, her dark eyes blazed. “His name was Hildash. Thank him for his sacrifice.”

I closed my eyes and did as she commanded, hearing those around me murmur similar words of loss, remembrance, and thanks. When we had finished, our teacher seemed to stand taller now.

“I am Voshra,” she proclaimed. “Lower Deacon of the Warrior Order, and” – her hard face twisted into a grimace, as if the words she would speak next were foul to her – “a coward.”