Seth woke up alone and the first thing he noted was the absence of his brothers. He knew them all by name but cared for only a select few. Of this few, Timilehin stood at the top of the list, and he found his attention wandering, seeking, searching out his larger brother even in the veil of the mist.

He did not find him.

Seth gave up on his search and rose to his feet. Around him the mist continued in its art of concealment so that he saw naught but it. There were no trees, no sound, no life. Even the wretched latticework of a gate was absent, though this did not surprise him. Gingerly, he took a step after the other, tracing a gentle line before him so that he would not strike what he did not wish to. There were rumors amongst the older children that even the trees in the misty forest were as hard as the walls of the seminary. Seth had attributed the rumors to an elaborate prank being played by his elders, but there remained a part of him that believed, as all children have this part; a part of their mind where imagination wages a controversial war against logic.

A few steps after, and perhaps a few shuffles off to the side, found Seth no better than he had been in the beginning. He had run into neither tree nor person. Neither sound nor sight. All that accompanied him was the existence that was the mist. Still, he had learned something in the short time he’d been moving. While the mist was a deep white, there was a darkness about it that told him it was night time. It told him that he’d been out cold for at least a day. The knowledge sought to raise from within him a sense of panic, but he culled it almost immediately. The Rector had given no time limit for the test. Igor had given no time limit for the test. And the quest had given no time limit for the test.

Seth was certain he had time.

Another thing he found was an exchange. He had lost his sense of sight, given away to the mist… taken away, as was the case. White was all he could see, all he knew. Every crevice, every corner, every inkling of his current reality was white. As much as he could not bring himself to hate its discomfort, he could not bring himself to like it either. Still, there was in this taking away of sight a solid exchange. Even now, as he walked in quiet thought, he had knowledge.

Knowledge guided him as he stepped to the side and reached out a slow hand. It waded through the mist as if through water and he was met with no surprise as his palm flattened against opposition. He had known it would be there as one knows the certain equations of a mathematical formula they have grown quite accustomed to. He had known his hand would meet resistance as a new born knows to hold its breath under water.

Perhaps it’s instinct, he thought. What do we think?

The silence that met his question was jarring. His minds did not argue. They did not come to bicker from a single concept opined by him. It was as if they had fled him… or killed each other. The latter was most unlikely but he had often dreamed of the possibility in the past year. Despite a touch of worry at the absence of his minds, Seth gave it no vested interest as something else caught his attention.

He pressed his palm against the tree, flattening it more. He pushed against the tree just to be certain of his suspicion. What caught his attention solidified itself soon after and it grew to trouble him. For the sake of certainty, Seth moved his hand along the surface of the tree as roughly as he could. Still, there was no difference and his worry grew like a plague, the black death of ancient times.

He was certain now. He could touch the object beside him, know it was there as he did the remaining ones around him, but he could not feel it. He could not feel anything.

It seemed that the mist had made an unequal exchange. It had taken his sight and given him knowledge. But it had also taken his sense of touch.

Seth removed his hand from the tree and stepped away from it. He breathed a resigned sigh. The mist curled around his breath, a python suppressing an unwanted intrusion on its territory. It took the form of a spiral, as if pierced by an arrow spinning through the air, then closed in on itself. All this Seth watched with a surprised detachment. He was aware of the beauty of it, but could not bring himself to appreciate it. The absence of his minds, it seemed, had left him bereft of something he could not yet quite understand.

Seth’s journey continued through the mist in a silence he had not known in over a year. His mind was so quiet he could hear himself think even when he knew he had no thoughts.

He reached out a hand and swiped it before him and it cut through the mist. He watched the white world fold around it, swallowing whatever path his hand had created as quickly as it was made.

Isn’t this too much mist? He pondered.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The thought of his brothers slithered into his mind a moment after. It made him wonder if they were having the same luck as he was; drowning in the same amount of mist as he was.

“There’s never enough mist with these things.”

Seth hadn’t been the one to speak and he moved at the sound of the voice. He threw himself to the side, ducked, and dropped into a roll. When he came up, his hand reached for his side and drew a long, single-edged blade free from its sheathe. He did not remember going into the test armed but was glad for the weight of the weapon. He held it out before him, then froze.

Standing ten paces away from him was a man in a grey cassock. The mist covered much of sight so that the man was naught more than a silhouette. This did nothing to dissuade Seth from his suspicion. It did nothing to make his need to protect himself wane.

A bit paranoid, aren’t we? He thought, blade still held out before him.

His guest walked through the mist, inspecting his hands as if they were new toys he had never expected to have.

“This is very odd,” the man said. His voice was soft, like a child whose voice the world knew would one day deepen. “Is this supposed to be how it feels? I mean, I can see them, but something doesn’t feel right about them.”

Seth did not move. He did not leave where he stood. His sword arm did not compromise. It did not waver as the scared often do. No. He stood there and waited for his guest to reveal himself, knowing it was not any of his brothers.

Perhaps it’s the test.

“If it is,” the voice said, its body stepping into view, “then it is one twisted test…”

Seth watched the man step out from the mist and paled.

………………………………………..

The man before him was an odd contrast to Seth. Except the difference in clothes, not much was truly opposite. They had the same length of hair, but while Seth’s hung around him, tousled and rough, this man’s was groomed and kempt. It was held back in a regal ponytail. His eyes were a gunmetal silver and seemed to always move as if in search of something that was constantly changing.

But these similarities, as few as they were, were not what worried Seth. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword—a sword he found he no longer trusted—and the man who was actually a boy spoke again.

“Wouldn’t we agree?” he asked.

Seth sighed deeply, rising to his full height. The sword in his hand fell from his grip and he didn’t hear it hit the soil beneath him.

He met gunmetal grey eyes with his own and answered: “I guess we would.”

The test of fear, he thought, staring at himself. The seminary was truly a twisted place.

“Why?” he began, as his guest approached him. “If this is the test of fear, then why would I fear myself?”

Seth’s guest looked back at him, an exact replica of himself, and smirked. “Because we do not know which one of us is Seth.”

Bullshit.

Seth approached his other self slowly. His initial suspicion and fear had waned into something else, something he could not quite place his finger on.

“You do know this is weird,” his guest pointed out as Seth rounded him, observing, studying.

“Perhaps,” Seth agreed.

Weirder still, was the fact that he was here, standing before himself in what most would consider a better version than himself. The man before him was regal, composed, and most annoying of all, taller. He was a man of average height and looked at least four years older.

‘I’m guessing this is a part of the test,” Seth noted as he completed his first circuit around him.

His guest chuckled. “Why? Because I’m taller? Because this seems impossible?”

Seth dismissed the condescension he heard in the man’s tone with a nonchalant gesture. He had never heard of any soul magic that could conjure up replicas or clones. And even if this was such a skill, the man before him was not much a replica as he was a mockery. Seth was not so well cut out or so well groomed. Seth knew himself and knew the man before him was more of Jonathan or even Derek, than it was him. If this was a trick of the seminary, then someone had created him in the image of his brothers, someone had created a regal and primped up version of him. The thought of it worried Seth because the seminary was not supposed to know much of his brothers. No. They were not supposed to know anything of his brothers. The idea that they did scared him, and a shiver went up his spine.

Seth took a step away from his replica and shook the fear from his mind.

“I doubt they have the capability of finding out who exactly you are,” his guest said in a voice that did not suit his face. “They might be able to speculate but not be certain.”

“True,” another voice agreed.

While his guest did not seem bothered, Seth spun around at the sound of the new voice, a third in what was supposed to be a dialogue.

Seth’s attention settled on their new guest and his lips twisted in a frown. There were two of them now; two identical replicas that seemed a mockery of what he would not be. Why the seminary was choosing to show him this as a test was an unknown that was beginning to piss him off.

“Couldn’t they have just sent a giant snake after me,” he sighed in resigned frustration.

“Like snaffles?” the new replica asked with a half-smile, mocking.

Seth shot him a glare that did nothing before walking away from them. “I do not have time for this. I have to find the exit.”

“It’s that way,” both replicas said in unison, fingers pointed in opposing directions.

Seth ignored them. They were more often than not a confusion when they were in his head. There was no surprise to find them equally the same now that he was hallucinating them. He gritted his teeth as he waded through the mist, knowing his companions were not complete.

For reasons he could not begin to fathom, he asked, “Where’s the third one?”

“Third,” one of them said. Seth did not know which one.

“Yes,” he nodded as he continued his journey. “There are three of you. One’s missing.”

“And what makes you think we are only three?”

Seth paused in his tracks. Silence reigned in this very moment and his feelings towards what he had heard failed to be articulated.

Slowly, like a prey spotted by a predator, he turned his head so that he looked at the replica and spoke over his shoulder. “What do you mean by that?”