Ezril and his peers learned of the existence of tests from the older boys as the days stretched into months and finally into a year. They were trained in techniques required in fights. They were taught to defend themselves and kill at will.

"We teach you not for the defense of a man, but the defense of a kingdom," Talod told them one morning before training began. "We do not teach you how to defend yourselves. No. We teach you how to kill a man, and a beast."

Terstiff was the day of the sword, first of the week. They woke before the break of dawn and took to the courtyard where they trained.

Father Talod remained brutal with the sword, giving Ezril reason to believe he indulged them more for the opportunity of brutality than teaching them how to kill a man. Darvi proved adept with the sword, parrying strikes from the priest and occasionally finishing a spar with only so much as aching hands. It always left Talod's mood fouler than usual and the others dreaded going after him, as Talod was known to take his sword play to a devastating level.

Ezril had once been a victim of such a circumstance. The event that followed had left him with a bruised rib. It didn't take long to find he had a disliking for the priest and his way with the sword.

Irdatiff was given to the quarterstaff. Father Jugen was a tall and skinny man with a shaven head. He was muscled yet skinny and it made his bare torso a sight Ezril could only describe as a punishment in its own. He started the training with a random quarterstaff, spinning it along his fingers with surreal speed that sent a whistling sound sailing through the air.

Jugen easily cared naught for the cane. His quarterstaff served as a sufficient tool for punishment whenever a child failed to execute a move accurately.

The staff was then replaced by a spear. This was eventually replaced by a lance sharpened on both ends as the days evolved. If Ezril was being honest, it was less of a lance and more of a spike.

It did not take long for Alric to prove himself superior to the rest of his mates on the day of the staff. He always moved with a fluidity that left Ezril in awe, gaining him favor with Jugen.

The day of Nuratiff was spent learning the ways of close quarter combat. It was a training that involved sparring amongst themselves, using the weapons bestowed to them by their birth: their bodies.

The training proved a specifically detested one among them, as they would fight unarmed, leaving themselves bruised by each successful parry or attack. Only after hours of engagement would they switch to the use of wooden knives.

Ezril found he had a way with knives and occasionally emerged victorious after disarming his opponent with his free arm, claiming their weapons with a dexterity associated with a thief. However, Olbi proved himself master of the art. His muscled body gave him an advantage over the others and he used it generously. On one such occasion, disarming Olbi had proved an impossible task for Ezril. In search of avoiding a defeat, Ezril had found himself grabbing the larger boy’s wooden knife by its intended blade when Olbi drove in for a finishing blow. He had then swiftly proceeded to disarm the boy. The action earned him a series of cane strokes from the priest in charge, Father Fravis, contradicting the look of pride on the priest’s face.

Training was instructed by priestess Ellenel, the only female residing in the seminary and Priestess of the bow, on Sentiff. It was a weapon Takan, oldest of them, took to referring to as the coward's weapon whenever none of the priests or the priestess were present.

The bow was a weapon of distance, much unlike the others. It required an arrow to be released at a target of over thirty paces away in their trainings. Not only were they expected to hit the target, but to do it with a speed of less than half what time was required of a coin to come down from a toss.

Ezril took to the bow like a bird to the sky. His arrows hit their mark with consistent accuracy. His hand found arrows and picked them from his quiver with surprising ease. It was as though his fingers were attuned to the task. Priestess Ellenel once commented that his speed reminded her of a peregrine she'd once seen take to the skies.

While most priests employed their varieties of punishments, Ellenel would strike the hands of any who spent too much time fidgeting with their arrows during retrieval. It was her only form of punishment.

Takan, unsurprisingly, proved unskilled with the bow. His arrows skewed wide, and he dallied the longest during his retrieval, earning him the most strikes. The training of the bow fostered a growing tension between both boys. It was a tension Ezril found he could do without.

"It's all about the technique," Ellenel would say as she walked behind them. "Don't just pull the string. Push the bow."

She was a slender woman with hair color the red of fire. It betrayed her as a denizen of the Rumish tribe, one among many found in Amnifat, west of the kingdom. She had a peculiarly soothing voice which she could bellow with the authority of any priest.

Olufemi proved his skills to be something of a wonder even to the priests on Weltiff, the day of the wild. Father Zakarid, the most rugged of all the priests by looks with his unkempt hair and always dirtied cassock took them to the outer gate. Guiding them through the mist, he would lead them into the woods. Ezril soon realized that the gate they passed was not the same one Urden had left him at. It seemed the mist was ever present, surrounding the seminary on all sides, yet never entering.

The training of Weltiff proved tasking on both the body and the mind. They began the day learning the weapons and aids of Vayla. The poisonous plants and how best to apply them, as well as the harmless and the healing. What could be eaten and what should not. How to make fires from sticks and dead leaves, as well as hunt animals such as rabbits and deer. This curriculum always took up the first quarter of the day.

The second quarter had them seated on the dead leaves scattered over the ground. Father Zakarid taught them intricate hand signs and their meanings. He taught them bits and pieces of a tongue spoken amongst the priests ever so often, claiming it to be the language of the seminary, one in which its history was written. It didn’t take them long to learn it was not of the church.

The final activity of the day was always the ‘perceptiveness of the living.’ Zakarid would release them into the woods each time. Released, they would seek out places to hide. He gave them time as he always promised between eight minutes and fifteen. Next, he determined where they were. Each child, he found with nothing but the smell in the wind, the shift of the soil, and the sound in the air.

Those found still trying to hide were forced to hang from trees upside down for the duration of the activity.

Olufemi, proving skilled, was always the last to be found, revealing himself a while after all the others on many occasions. Once, he had stayed hidden into the dark of the night. It forced Zakarid to alter the rules of engagement, mandating he reveal himself after a length of time. Sometimes Zakarid never found Olufemi.

On occasions, some would hide and others would seek. Olufemi, to no surprise, found his marks with ease. It often left them feeling that sometimes when asked to hide, he would watch them as they searched. Zakarid was not alien to such suspicions.

"It's all about the breathing," Olufemi explained with a smile in his tiny voice when Ezril asked how he stayed hidden for so long. "Slower breaths mean slower life. Breathe through your mouth. It helps."

Each child dreaded the day of Jaeltiff. It was the day of the body. It was a day spent carrying heavy loads across the courtyard while Talod watched and supervised. Then they would proceed to the cold river, swimming in its chill. The only covering allowed them was nothing but a loin cloth.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Often times they submerged themselves in the water in a test for who could hold their breath the longest, a minute seeming to stretch for hours on end.

Olufemi proved fastest in the water. He always cut through it with the speed and grace of a fish. Ezril often wondered if the boy had been born the wrong being. He thought of him as more an animal of nature than a human. I wouldn't be a surprise if one of these days he sprouts wings and takes to the skies, Ezril once thought.

Frostiff was the day of the Credo. A day the seminary left to the whims of the children after over an hour long mass celebrated by Mother Sherilla with the aid of two other sisters and at least two of the priests. After the mass the children were allowed freedom of choice for the rest of the day. As for the youngest boys, it was a day of labor, their whims not left to run free.

Ezril and his brothers worked the different aspects of the seminary, making sure the fort remained in pristine condition. As pristine as a fort that had stood for centuries could be. If they were lucky, they would be chosen to aid Father Distro in the gardens as he was prone to offering rewards of fruits for a work well done. If they were not, they would be sent to aid Father Ulrich in the fields outside the walls, watering and pruning as were required. The tenmel grass, often nin infused and used in the concoction of elixirs and potions of alchemical nature, was known to snap at those caring for it with a power to break the skin, and clamp tight if blood were to be drawn instantly. Leather gloves and burly clothing were provided for protection, but the occurrence of accidents did nothing to alleviate the fear of the task.

Ezril found he favored Frostiff most, not for its lack of training or its fill of labor, but for the two hours of freedom it presented just after the midday meal. He often spent the time with Darvi, learning the secrets of the blade, the intricate techniques he was required to imitate before the boy engaged him in a spar. The techniques Talod taught were difficult, but Ezril worked his way through them under Darvi’s tutelage. Suffice to say, it wasn’t long before he came to the conclusion that the sword was not for him. His body rarely moved as he commanded.

The final hours before lights out proved to be favored by all the boys. They proceeded to their room after their baths, engaging in discussions and friendly banter. It was during this hour that Unkuti, a dark skinned boy with hair that never seemed to grow past an inch of its roots, told them tales of the Tainted, men wrongly influenced by the exorbitant use of nin, the life blood with which all things of Vayla were governed. They possessed the ability to compel animals to do their bidding, bend trees as they wished and even slip into the dreams of men. They possessed powers not made for men and called them the arts of the soul. But the Credo knew better. They did this at the cost of Vayla.

What they were was nothing short of an abomination.

The Credo taught that centuries ago a great number of people died during the Tainted War. The malice left behind twisted Vayla’s nin and ruptured the souls of men. Sometimes the stories Unkunti told left Ezril in awe. Other times it left him so terrified he would find his fingers gripping his bed as he listened. It was all he could do to keep its display to a minimum.

Although they communed together, Divine mostly spent the time with Salem, and Darvi with Alric.

Not long into the year Olufemi garnered more flesh than when Ezril had first spoken to him at the dining hall. But he kept to himself most of the time, seeming to retreat into his own mind. He talked so little that the older boys often mistook him for a mute save the days of the wild. Ezril was another exception to Olufemi’s silence. The boy seemed to have taken a certain comfort in his presence. He did not talk much, regardless, but he had his own ways of communication. Even then, he used the littlest amount of words, asking questions more than he answered. A few vexatious conversations took place before Ezril understood what the boy would not answer and how best to ask a question for a greater chance of an answer.

Ezril often found himself an aegis to the boy during the nightly hours before they slept as their peers, knowing Olufemi’s discomfort with conversations, tormented him by enforcing conversations.

"You cannot protect him forever, brother," Darvi told Ezril during one of their tutoring sessions. "What happens when you are not there?"

Ezril offered no answer. He knew the boy's words held truth, yet, he wasn’t certain of a response. Without truly meaning to, he had taken up the mantle of being the boy’s protector.

Ezril’s fear for the title of his name was lost to time. In their mutual labor, his brothers had all but forgotten he was adopted. There were times when Takan would remember and make fun of him. He would insinuate things, call him names. Most of it never bothered Ezril. After all, it was hard to be bothered when Takan jested and said his parents had adopted him, grown tired of him and sold him to the nearest priest. Ezril knew the truth, however. He had been intended for the seminary far longer than he knew. He didn’t know why he had been adopted, but he at least knew the seminary was what had been planned for him from the beginning.

In time, Takan eventually found his silence. Seth had wondered why his brothers had spoken little of his apparent heritage, but time answered that, too. He could often see it in the eyes of his brothers. Each of them had a past, one they were not comfortable with. It seemed his brothers had skeletons in their closets.

Their first test came after the third month of their second year in the seminary. The Test of the pathfinder, Father Talod called it. They were given due orders for it. They were required to wake an hour earlier than was usual. They carried their hunting knives along with their water flasks. There was no banter the night before it. They took the time to ready their tools before retreating to bed.

All of this they did with silence, and heavy hearts. There was none who did not know the reward of failing a test of the seminary.

"You will be taken out of the compound, left in the mist and required to survive,” Monsignor Crowl told them when they assembled in front of the keep. “After which you must return before first light tomorrow. Anyone who returns late will be sent away with whatever they have on them. As for those who do not return..."

He let his words trail off into nothingness. Ezril and his brothers were no doubt left to conjure up its conclusion in their own words.

The tension that clung to them dissipated slightly, however. There was something about knowing what was to be expected that helped alleviate certain worries. They had walked the mist countless times and had grown accustomed to it, although, never in the absence of a priest.

The tension returned when they realized the gate they were headed for was not one they'd ever gone through.

While their training with Father Zakarid had them using the south gate, Father Ulrich waited for them at the east gate, leaving Ezril wondering how the man cared for all the fields outside the wall, and still seemed to be at all the gates all the time.

He wasn’t the only one who thought of this. The others wondered as well and there were growing theories on the subject. The most favored one was that Father Ulrich had a twin.

Father Talod spoke with Father Ulrich as they walked the mist. Ezril found himself wondering what would happen if he failed. Would he be able to survive outside the seminary? Did he still know how to? Would Urden come for him or abandon him somewhere else? Perhaps somewhere worse. Would he be able to return to Green Horn?

It had already been a year since he’d last been there. Would aunt Teneri still be alive? Would she forgive me for not living up to her expectations?

No! he chided himself. The thought left him with a sense of disgust. I will not fail. Aunt Teneri wouldn’t want me to fail.

"Do you think it can kill?" Divine asked. There had been an entire conversation and Ezril had only caught the end of it.

"No," Salem assured him. "It's just a concentration of the water in the air. Its harmless."

"Of course it is." Sarcasm dripped from Takan's voice. "Till you find yourself choking from what isn't water."

Salem turned on him, acting the part of something akin to an older brother to Divine, as he always did.

"Stop trying to scare him," he warned off Takan.

"Sod off! He ain’t yours," Takan spat, then turned to Divine. "My advice? Run like a gazelle the moment we start."

"Well," Alric cut in, "dying in a mist is not how I plan on going."

They were surprised to find Ulrich suddenly beside the boy. The priest placed a firm hand on Alric’s shoulder.

"Greater men have died in lesser ways,” he said, and there was iron in his words. “It would do you kindly to remember that."

He shoved Alric from the gathering, into the unknown of the mist, and led Ezril and the others on. A single grunt was the last audible sound from their brother.

They continued getting dropped off with the littlest of ceremony. A sudden physical contact from the priest followed by a shove off the line or a simple command followed by the exit of one of them from the group.

They walked the mist for a time of some length. The priests purged them every now and then. Ezril, attempting to know if there was a pattern, counted the time between each purge. It did not take him long to find that there was none.

The priests led them within the mist, making turns as if out on a leisurely stroll. Finally, left with Olufemi, Darvi and Olbi, Ezril feared himself the last to be purged.

"Step aside."

Ezril stopped momentarily before realizing the words had been offered to Olbi. Olbi obeyed, even if hesitantly.

With the big boy gone, Ezril felt himself the only source of the tension scratching at his skin. He attempted breathing techniques as Priestess Ellenel had taught them calmed the heart on the days of the bow. Its effect came to naught.

His turn came soon after.

Ezril felt a hand on his shoulder. It was ominous, promising of dreadful things. He understood his time had come and feared the knowledge of which of the two priests stood beside him.

"I will be happy if you didn't return," Talod's voice came. Then Ezril was shoved into the solitude of the mist.