My limitations are always expanding. Once, when I was still young, I could only handle a tenth of the Kraken within my system before dipping into madness. Now, I find myself capable of holding much more before my grip on reality slips. Forcing it onto other creatures has been the only way to keep myself from turning into a bubbling mess, a pity they don't understand the gifts I give them.
His first fleeting moments of consciousness were of Malik holding a black liquid out to Dorian. He had dipped his fingers in and let droplets fall on to Dorian's face, allowing the world of pain that was the morning to greet him as unkindly as a winter's first chill.
“Drink it, all of it my friend, or the day you have will be a day to regret.” Malik said, holding the cup out to Dorian. The light was bright, so Dorian kept his eyes slit. Taking the cup, he downed the drink and dropped back, resting his head on something soft, he fell back into a dreamless sleep in no time flat.
The morning he deserved wasn't the one that greeted him, instead he woke up softly. For all intents there may as well have been someone playing a gentle flute while frying bacon. He felt great, it beat the blackened hell out of waking to the Giastone lights, violently bright and unrelenting as they were. He opened his eyes to see the ceiling of a chamber, though it wasn't the chamber he last remembered. Above him, in odd imitation of a sunrise, a faintly warm light had begun to fill the chamber illuminating several others that had yet to stir. Looking down, to his horror, he was down to nothing more than his small clothes, specifically, just his knickers. By the gods, what have I done?
Dorian's face had already flushed, and he reached about searching wildly for his clothes. He found his undershirt, thank the Gods, but couldn't find anything else. Malik was standing by the doorway, yawning unabashedly.
“You were quite the animal last night, Dorian of the Light.” He smiled at the end then yawned again. Dorian was still flustered, looking back where he slept, he finally noticed that there were several people still sleeping. His jaw dropped, not sure if he should be horrified or awed, so he threw on his shirt with quickness, nearly fleeing out the door Malik stood by.
“Kressor's rotten breath, what in seven hells happened last night?” Dorian asked as Malik gently closed the door after him.
“Hmm? No need to curse, Dorian, everything is fine. Welcome to the club.” Malik smiled toothily, a bit of mischief lighting his eye.
“That's not an explanation, by the Gods I've been made the fool, again.” The words came out of his mouth without being processed, straight from the gut out of his mouth. It was because of his lack of filter that he hadn't processed the words before saying them, and now his mind raced with suspicion. Narrowing his eyes at Malik, Dorian asked, “what did you do?”
Looking innocent, Malik gestured to himself. “Me? I've done nothing, you on the other hand...” he tapered off, the quirk of a grin lining the corner of his mouth.
“Malik, I'm not one to get angry.” Dorian held Malik's eyes for a moment, letting his statement sit for a spell. Without thinking the glow returned to his eyes, and he could see the streams of Gia surrounding Malik. They softly flowed in and out of Malik's head and spine, though a small amount flowed around him. As he watched, almost like the white cap of a wave, Gia coalesced around Malik and broke in his direction. For a moment, Dorian considered if he could blow it, but let it go, allowing Malik to form a mental link with him.
“Let’s avoid getting hasty, Dorian. I know how you're feeling, we all had the first night before.”
“Explain.” Dorian wasn’t sure why he felt so confident, but he did.
That God's forsaken smile lit Malik's face, Dorian was beginning to like it less and less.
“It was an initiation, we started spiking your drinks with the heavier stuff pretty early on, keeps the new people brave. Once you've faced your fears, you're in. I can't show you the whole night, but I will show you some.”
Before Dorian had a second to protest, images started reeling across his mind. Danae dancing with the other girl, Dorian standing beside the pool stripping his shirt off but so scared he covered his body in light. His Gia receding and the crowd cheering him on, a beautiful woman pulling his near naked body into the pool, everyone jumping in after him and more beyond. There was music, dancing, drinking, games, conversation, and laughter. In every image, if Dorian hadn't been obviously terrified, he had been smiling and laughing. The last image that was sent was of someone surprising him with a sudden kiss. They had been dancing as though they were at the autumnal festival, Dorian laughing as he did.
Dorian flushed again. Oh shit, that was my first kiss, that was my first kiss, and I don't even remember it!
Malik's eyebrow shot up, and Dorian realized too late that they were still mentally linked. “Oh really? Your very first? Oh, how delighted she will be when I tell her.”
“You wouldn't dare.” Dorian said as his eyes opened so wide that they likely resembled plates more than anything else.
“Oh, I would, I don't keep anything from her, she's my bestie you know.”
“Wait, wait, who is she?”
Malik laughed and started walking. Dorian hurried after him, trying to cut him off, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, Malik beat him to it.
“Today isn’t going to be easy for you. I haven’t seen the other six who won earlier this week since they started training, but I have a rough idea. You’d better hurry, or you’ll be late.”
“Malik, this isn't you running from this conversation, is it?”
Malik smiled, bobbing his head left and right. “Yes and no, I'd explain it all to you, but the memories will come back over time, I won't have to explain a thing if I just wait a week, and hopefully you'll be in better spirits by then. Not much of a morning person, are you?”
Dorian opened his mouth to speak but found that he had no argument against that. He was a wretched ass in the morning.
Sighing in defeat, Dorian just asked, “what do you know about the training?”
“All I know is that Brother Michael isn't a patient man, and that you should be back this day next week. After that, your guess is as good as mine.” Malik shrugged, then added, “until you come back and tell me all about it.” He smiled then, saying, “if I were you, I'd be hurrying. Everything else will be here when you get back, good luck Dorian of the Light.”
With that, Malik turned on his heel, heading to the nearest room, presumably waking others in the same fashion in which he woke Dorian. Turning, Dorian found the door that led to Malik's quarters and gasped. Looking down at himself he shouted, “where are my pants?!”
A soft reply echoed through his mind. “On the way out, next to the door. Good luck, Dorian.”
Dorian hurried, throwing on his pants and running off barefoot. Judging by the glow of the Giastone in his chamber, Malik was right. Dorian was going to be late.
Huffing and puffing, Dorian found himself nearly stumbling through the gymnasium doors. Brother Michael and two others were there chatting idly before they looked up to see Dorian wheezing.
“It's okay” he said between breaths, “I made it.”
The other two didn't even acknowledge him but Michael did. He smiled, waving him over. Dorian took a moment to steady his breathing, filling his lungs to near bursting before letting it out. It didn't help, he was still panting as he approached the Brother of the Path.
“I was afraid you wouldn't show, glad you made it Dorian.”
“Thank you Bro- Michael. I think I've gotten my cardio in for the day, so I should probably just head to class, right?”
“Nice try, but no. These are the other two from your class, the other six have already had some time and need a break anyway. If everyone is ready, lets be off.”
“Off to where, Brother Michael?” Asked a tall and lithe woman, he was pretty sure it was Alexandria Cutter, one of the tallest in their class. She had dark hair and eyes with pale skin and stood an incredible six foot and three inches.
“That's a fine question, and one I won't be answering aloud. Come along.”
Brother Michael led them to the storage closet, then illuminated it. Giastone glowed, revealing a mostly empty closet that ran the better part of eighty feet in length. Broad enough for ten to walk through side by side, they were far from cramped as they came to the back of the room.
“I hope it goes without saying, but none will speak of what they see here. You will understand more as your abilities bloom, but for now, you will not ask questions. You will listen when instructed, and we will all get through this safely.” Brother Michael put his hand up and closed his eyes, summoning Gia, he funneled it into two separate spots, then waited. The stone began to shift, but not as though someone were shaping it. The back wall of the room began sliding, making a grinding noise that reminded him of nails on a chalkboard. Doing his best not to wince at the grated sound, Dorian watched as the wall as it slid away, revealing a tunnel. When the stone had come to rest the sound of water began echoing through the once quiet chamber.
“Stand close, initiates. We're in for one hell of a ride.” Shade broke free of Brother Michael's body, quickly it created a shell around them as they all stepped toward him. Then, with a lurch, they were off.
The blackness that denied all sight did little to prevent Dorian from feeling his guts drop. He could tell that they were moving at great speed until they passed through something. Once they had, everything slowed gradually until they came to a stop. The top of the dome seemed to melt away, and after being light blinded, it seemed as though they were outside. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he wasn't outside, but that the Giastone shone the exact same color as the sun. For all that, it still felt like they were outside. Michael’s Shade boat was toting them to the edge of the underground stream, coming to the bank, they got out one at a time.
“This is going to be your training grounds. This was crafted a long while back but only used under extreme duress. Do any of you know what this is.”
“A significantly larger gymnasium?” Dorian asked, because that's all it seemed to be. There were buildings and doorways about, however, which had Dorian’s curiosity piqued.
“Yes, it is that, but much more. I'll give you the tour while your peers ready themselves to go up. Come this way.” The Brother gestured, leading them around the gymnasium. It was massive, with all sorts of various equipment. There were softly padded mats covering an entire section, gymnastics courses, a swimming area, an area for resistance training, and so much more. There weren't, however, any grandstands. This place was for training purposes only.
“As you can see, you will have plenty of ways to train. I know it may seem a bit extreme, but our Grand Elder doesn't like the idea of his own team being bested. Yes, yes, technically there are no teams in The Valley, but he likes to believe that the best of the Valley end up at the Monastery.” Dorian had gotten distracted by some of the pulley systems in the resistance area but was drawn back to what Michael was saying. “You will have trainers, I myself will be one of them, and you will train here for a total of a month before a two-week break. During that two-week break, you are to attend classes and catch up over the week you've missed.”
The other boy, Dorian thought his name was Gavin, finally spoke for the first time. “But Brother Michael, I thought you said we'd be here for a month at a time, not a week. How are we to keep up with classes?”
“Ah, yes. You've heard of those that can create a time bubble, yes? I know we don't speak of it much, but it is one of the most dangerous Primes, especially if you don't know what you're doing. The time bubble we entered covers this entire gymnasium and is a potent one at that. Every month here is only a week there, just as the Monastery slows things for us as well, you will have more time to mature here. To hone your skills and prepare yourselves. You will technically be in your eighteenth to nineteenth year by the time the Grand Tournament begins, just as those you compete with will be at the same age. Now, let me show you to your quarters.”
The following two hours were spent on exploration and explanation. Dorian's quarters were downright lavish compared to the small cots he'd slept on since he could remember, the bed was a massive four posted monstrosity. He had a full closet of additional clothes, practice tunics, bed clothes, small clothes and the like. Whether it was someone's cruel joke or not, Dorian appreciated the fact that they all had been bleached bone white. Maybe I am getting some notoriety after all.
They had their own kitchen, fully stocked, with two kitchen aides who rotated on a month-long shift with two weeks off. Each room had a private bath, but everything else was communal. There was a study area with a decent selection of books, which sent shivers down Dorian’s spine as he remembered the journal he was afraid to read. The recreational area wasn’t much, just a large room with luxurious chairs, but Dorian figured he would make good use of it.
Coming back to the gymnasium, Brother Michael had gathered the other six initiates and several others that Dorian hadn't recognized. There were roughly sixteen people there, all lined up next to the water..
“Please, make yourselves at home. I'll give you all a few hours to prepare yourselves and get to know each other. When I come back, I'll have your cooks and sparring partners. To the rest of you, I hope you've enjoyed your stay. You go back to normal life for the next week. Group one from the east will come back next, group two from the west will be next to swap in, group three from the south will be after them. If everyone will gather round.”
Brother Michael crafted another boat of Shade, and they all climbed aboard. The current of the stream carried them along for a short time before the top of the vessel closed off. Then they seemed to shimmer as they came to the far wall, a spot Dorian hadn't seen before opened and they shot upwards like a spitball through a straw.
“Whoa.” Dorian said aloud.
“So, now what?” Asked Gavin.
Alexandria turned and began walking away.
“Hey, what gives?” Gavin asked.
She didn't even turn as she said, “I don't care what you guys do, I'm going to my chambers and getting some much-needed sleep.”
Dorian looked over at Gavin, who looked right back at him. They both seemed to have the same revelation, that she had damn good point. Turning, they left each other to enjoy some of the finer things, like private baths and overlarge beds.
Part of Dorian knew, without a doubt, that he was sleeping. Another part understood that what he was seeing wasn’t a dream but a remembrance. He was euphoric. Between the drink and the vapors in the air, he didn’t just feel great, he felt divine. It was as if he were no longer bound to the earth, drifting instead among the clouds, or perhaps the stars. Maybe this was why they called it a high.
Stolen novel; please report.
Vinny was babbling something, but Dorian wasn't registering a bit of it, too enveloped by the ball of warmth that started in his gut and pulsed through his entire body. With the lights dimmed down everywhere, it was hard to tell where Vinny even was, but no matter. He had his drink in his hand, and at that moment he really didn't care for much else.
For whatever reason, someone was shaking his shoulder. Looking around, he didn't realize who before Vinny spoke directly to him. “Dorian, would you be so kind as to illuminate that one crystal?”
Looking to Vinny, he saw where the man was pointing and did so. He took a drink, wanting to apologize for not paying attention, but too bashful to cause further interruption. When he felt the eyes leave him, Vinny called out again.
“Brian, something with some life!”
A fast-paced diddle started to echo from the amphitheater, until Dorian realized he recognized it. He didn't know where he knew it from, but it spoke of the vibrancy of life, an ode to living in the moment. Dorian found himself clapping to the beat, and the others joined him. As the tune continued, he realized that there should be accompanying words. In his mental state, short as it was at that moment, he didn't even think before acting. His brain had decided that there was a void. He started to sing, and to his surprise the rest sang the words in time.
Oh, if you think this winter chill
Could ever keep me from my will
Or stop my legs from dancing still
Hurrah-den, hurrah-den,
Gods, it's great to be alive.
Dorian noticed the way everyone’s eyes lingered on one of the girls from earlier. By the gods, did I accidentally flirt with her?
Still, he kept singing, his voice blending with the chorus as the sound rumbled through his chest.
When winter winds begin to bite
And you've got your eye set right
Just take her hand and spin her light
Hurrah-den, hurrah-den,
Gods, it's great to be alive.
As Dorian sang, Danae, he remembered her name now, grabbed Cora and spun her. The crowd erupted in cheers, clapping in time with the rhythm. Dorian couldn’t look away. The two girls, flushed and grinning madly, danced together, their movements full of wild, carefree energy. Something about the sight stirred something deep within him. A longing, a need, a desire to cast off all inhibitions, to show the world who he was and be free for it.
His heart dropped as realization washed over him.
“The kiss!” someone in the crowd shouted.
Another voice joined in, this time high-pitched. Then another. Soon, the chant became a roar, a fevered demand rolling through the room.
Finally, Cora leaned in, pressing her lips to Danae’s. The crowd erupted. The song broke off, drowned by the sheer force of their cheering, so loud Dorian was sure they had to be shaking the very walls.
Then Vinny’s voice cut through the noise, loud and triumphant. “Welcome! Welcome! You’ve passed! Meet our newest member!”
The crowd erupted, and Malik sent to him, “lights on, Dorian.” Dorian did so, with as much haste as he could manage. He was going to have to teach them how to adjust the lights themselves, he didn't want to get stuck with the detail.
There was some kind of drink that Vinny offered to Danae, she drank, and everyone clapped. Finally, Vinny said, “and now, our second trial for the night.”
Oh gods, I don't think I can do this.
With a jolt, the sound of someone shouting nearly tore him from his bed.
“Dorian! Alex! Gavin! Up, up, up! Now initiates, move!” It was Brother Michael, and something about how the man barked sent hot ice up his spine. He shot up, still barefoot, and came into the middle hall. It was large enough to be considered a chamber, but there wasn't anything there, no features save for plush carpet rugs covering most of the white stone floor.
“Stand tall! In line, right now! That means you, Dorian! Don't just stand there like a turkey in the rain! Line! Now!”
Gavin snorted, he was standing next to Alexandria, both holding similar stances. Michael shot a glare at Gavin before shouting, “Some time today, Dorian!” Dorian ran over, assuming the same posture as the others, shoulders back, chest out, chin leveled to the floor.
“Today, you'll meet the sparring partners I'll be bringing with me each day for practice. They will leave with me most of the time. When they stay, they will tutor you. You are to take to their instruction, and if I hear a word to the contrary, Gwendos himself won’t stay my wrath. Do you understand?”
All three gave a half-hearted “yes sir,” though it was out of sync. Brother Michael lifted a brow momentarily, but let it pass.
“They won’t be your only sparring partners, you will spar with one another, and there will be others I bring down on occasion. I will not be your only coach.” As he spoke, he began to pace back and forth in front of them with his hands behind his back. “But I will be your primary coach. Before the Grand Tournament begins, you will age beyond your peers by more than a year. If this is something you can't abide, speak now.”
No one said anything. If anything, Dorian was happy to catch up to Jack. The pair could both be meatheads, but Jack always had the upper hand physically. If not for the half year in age he had on Dorian, then for the fact that the man was undoubtedly through puberty and then some. Dorian, on the other hand, barely had stubble lining the underside of his jaw, his voice still squeaked, and he was sure he hadn't grown to his full height.
“All right. We start downstairs, light jog, follow me.”
They did. Dorian followed immediately behind Brother Michael, the others plodding behind him. Out of the front of the sleeping quarters, they turned right down the hall, following it for about eighty or so yards before coming to an open archway. The stairs heading down seemed ominous, but as they grew closer, they slowly lit a dim green. There was a slightly damp smell, the smell of sweat that had dried countless times had somehow impregnated the stones to a degree that no substance on earth or heaven could lift it. They came to larger room, maybe forty yards squared, but with a vaulted ceiling. The ventilation into the room came from eight large circular holes in said ceiling. The stagnant sweat stink wasn't prominent here, and he would have sighed in relief if he hadn't been trying to suck in every bit of air he could. He was extraordinarily out of shape.
Stepping into the room through two broad open doors, he noticed the shift in flooring. It wasn't cork, or if it was it was a kind he was unfamiliar with. It was more padded than the cork that Sister Brenda Culted onto the gymnasium floor, and it seemed to have more spring to it as well. It had a solid surface, unlike the cork, but had the same color. He wondered idly how much alteration was required just to get the cork to grow flat rather than the natural oak tree it should be, let alone alter it enough to make the cork so rubbery. Maybe mix the two, getting the cork oak to exude the same sap as the the rubber tree and puncturing the heartwood? He shook his head from his musings as Brother Michael gestured to the group of them and said, “be seated over there. You all know the stretches, lets go.”
Dorian did, starting with his hurdler's stretch. As he went through the routine, Brother Michael half lectured, half instructed. He walked around them pointing out when they could stretch deeper or when they were cheating themselves by doing the stretch poorly.
“When you stretch, you push your limitations. The only way to transcend those limitations is by existing there. Once those bounds become the norm, you establish new ones, and onward.” He came around as Dorian was reaching for his toes. “Don't just reach, you get a better stretch if you keep your chest out and your back straight. Even if you can't reach your toes that way, it doesn't matter.” He stood and Dorian did as instructed, feeling the long stretch up his legs, through his hips and up his spine. He was right, it was a better stretch.
“The point is, be uncomfortable. Nobody in history or before ever did something great without great discomfort. The greatest to ever enter the arena did so, not because of their talent. Talent is what the Gods have given you. Alex, if I catch you bobbing like a bird again, I'll douse you in tar and feathers! Now, talent is what you have naturally. Your foundation is comprised of your natural gifts, your ability to learn and your athleticism. You can grow in skill without these things, but you will never be the best. A master of all techniques can do some amazing things, as can those with an aptitude towards their bodies, but the best, the next champion of the Valley, will always be the one that finds harmony between these facets.”
Dorian wanted to say something, and nearly did so, but decided against it.
An eyebrow went up, nearly meeting Brother Michael's short cropped hair. “Something to add, Dorian?”
Dorian was still stretching, but asked, “wasn't there a Valley champion that only had one arm?”
Michael chuckled softly, though it was low and gruff. “So, you've heard of that one? I've always fancied the legend of the wanderer myself. Even if it's true, do you think he didn't exercise? Expand on his own natural capabilities, I'd wager every Vega to my name that he worked his body harder than anyone else had, and his unique techniques were estranged enough to his competitors to give him the edge he needed to succeed.” He chuckled again, “where did you hear about Ohmer the one-armed wanderer anyway?”
Something integral, something Dorian could always remember having but never touched nor prodded, stirred. It was there, surrounding the center of his own being, sleeping. Like when someone wakes momentarily, says something, then falls asleep again, it moved. A flush of heat ran through Dorian. He had no idea how, but he found himself hugging his knees. His chin was tucked, protecting his neck, and his face was contorted into a rictus snarl.
Tilting his head, Brother Michael said, “Dorian, what's wrong?” He took a step towards Dorian, but Dorian didn't hear the words. He heard animal noises, grunts and ogling, and nothing more. When Michael stepped, a low growl emanated from Dorian's throat.
“Dorian?!” Michael barked, something about his tone pulled Dorian back to the fore.
Like breaking the surface after a great dive, Dorian was himself again. He turned his head, closing his eyes, trying to recall what Brother Michael had asked him.
“I don't know, Brother Michael, I just heard the story somewhere.”
Giving Dorian an inquisitive look, he drew out the word, “right.” Brother Michael took a breath and returned to address them all. “Which reminds me, when we are here, on these proving grounds, you will address me as Master, and in this place, I am law. When I speak, you do, any inclination to do otherwise will be met with harsh consequences.” His face was stern for a moment, then he smiled. “I think its time I introduce you to the circuit. Initiates, lets see how much you like to run.” His smile wasn't comforting in the least.
The circuit was a brutal maze of tunnels, designed to confuse, exhaust, and break anyone running through it. The worst part? Staying in one spot for more than a few seconds made the lights flicker out. If you didn’t enter the next area with enough speed, the lights wouldn’t turn on at all. And if you lingered too long, the entire chamber would start to vibrate, a sensation Dorian couldn’t make sense of.
Despite the fire in his lungs and his inability to catch his breath, curiosity still clawed its way to the surface. He tried using Giasight, his personal term for summoning Gia over the lenses of his eyes, but found he couldn’t. Whether the chamber was warded or he was simply too exhausted, he couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of was that Michael as a “coach” was far more twisted than he’d expected.
The tunnels felt warded, much like the Grand Elder’s journal, and that realization made his skin crawl. No, more than that, it terrified him. When the lights went out, it was nearly unbearable. The only mercies were the soft padding beneath his feet and the absence of sharp turns. Everything else was a daily, waking nightmare, one he would be forced to endure over and over.
He would do it. But he didn’t have to enjoy it.
When Dorian finally found his way out, as Alex and Gavin left him in the dust, Brother Michael was there with water.
“Oh, by the Gods, thank you.”
“Coach or not, I'll toss you in the Rock for poor language, Dorian.” He said as he handed Dorian a bucket of water. It was fresh, cool, and delicious. He drank his fill and followed by pouring some water over his head to wet down his hair. He hadn't cut his hair in a long time, and even his usual chin length would likely be too long now that he'd have to exercise like this regularly. His shaggy mane provided too much insulation now, and if he could, he would have shaved his head on the spot.
“The others?” Dorian said between breaths.
“Still catching their breath in the main sparring chamber. Come along.”
Dorian followed dutifully, and though he had lost most of the contents of his stomach throughout the circuit, it churned now in anticipation.
“Hello, Dorian.” Came a lilting feminine voice.
“Huh?” Dorian said aloud. Michael gave him an odd look.
“What was that?”
“Oh, uh, sorry sir. Nothing.”
When they entered the chamber, the other two had apparently gotten restless. There was the distinctive clack clack of battle staves rounding against each other. As Dorian caught sight of them, Alexandria hopped over a low swing and rebounded, twisting in midair, she landed a solid thrust against Gavin's torso.
“Two points and cut that shit out. You wanna spar and get yourself hurt, do it on your own time.” Brother Michael said. For a Brother of the path, he wasn't really all that saintly. Sure, he wore the robes but only on formal occasions. He was usually in a tunic, and if not for his age, he'd blend right in with the rest of the initiates just fine.
“In line behind Dorian here, follow me.”
They left at a jog, running through the halls at a brisk pace. Dorian had just caught his breath, but surprisingly the jog wasn't nearly as rough as it was on the way down. They went up the stairs, back to the main gymnasium. There was a track with a large area in the middle for gymnastics, but beyond that there was another room Dorian hadn't investigated yet. They ran through the doorway and what Dorian walked in to was nothing short of a gift from the Gods.
“Resistance training. This is more of Dorian's domain, but worry not my ill-fated initiates. Alex will get her chance to shine next. You have one hour, I'll come around and instruct as you go. Here is your minute glass. When it’s empty, you take to your next set or exercise, when you finish you flip it, then you may rest. If I see any of you resting before you flip that timer, we'll all head back to the circuit. Do you understand, initiates?!”
“Yes sir!” Dorian nearly shouted, though the other two weren't nearly so enthusiastic. Perhaps he enjoyed this kind of exercise simply because he excelled in it, or perhaps because he'd always been bigger than most. Either didn't really matter to him, as his innermost child was doing all it could to try every piece of equipment there before the hour was out, his outermost composure doing all it could to keep himself from squealing like a star-stricken kid.
As the hour passed, Brother Michael told a story about a young man and his pet goat. He lifted the goat repeatedly every day, and even though the goat grew to full size much faster than he had, he could still lift the goat. As he got older, and the goat grew fatter, he could still lift the goat over his head with little effort. Before long, the man he had grown in to was storied to be the strongest in the land. Then, the stories became grander, as the man himself grew, until it was said that he was the strongest in all the lands, that no man could challenge his strength. Many came to challenge him, but he bested them easily. When they asked him, he said it was all thanks to his pet goat, now plump and fattened to the point of absurdity. Still, however, the man lifted up the goat every day, until they both grew old. He told his secret to his children, granting them goats of their own. It was thanks to them that all of mankind learned what exercise could do, that we could grow and build, that we could become greater if our will met our desire.
So wrapped up in the story, Dorian hadn't noticed how quickly the time had passed. Such was the way of time, hate it and its an eternity, love it and it’s so brief one can barely recall it. More's the pity.
“Story time is over, initiates. To the gymnasium, drop what you're doing. That means you, Dorian!”
“Aw, but-”
“Now!”
Dorian dropped what he was doing and followed the others out, feeling abashed. He knew without a doubt he'd be sneaking back in there. It was a little piece of heaven, and he would honestly trade his new massive bed to simply sleep there. Then, he saw the incredibly complex gymnastics course and felt himself pale.
Dorian looked over to Brother Michael. Shaking his head he said, “you can't be serious.”
“Deadly.” The flat stare his coach gave him left him feeling hallow inside, as if that glare had simply cooked him and left nothing more than a husk. With a sigh, Dorian came to the first pole. As he had just watched Alex, he was to jump out, vault himself forward to a set of parallel poles. The poles came up an incline, then descended to ascend yet again. The idea was to hop along it using only his arms.
The mounting sense of dread building in his gut told him that if he didn't do anything, he never would. He cursed under his breath and simply went for it. Grabbing the pole, he swung. As his legs came underneath him, he heard a “pop.” There was something wrong, Dorian knew, because somehow, he was flying. He knew the ground was coming to meet him, but all he could see were the Giastone lights above, then, blackness.
“One such as yourself should be excited, Dorian. Come along, fear is nothing more than a burden. Let it go, and you'll find freedom to be who you should be. Liberation is either something you control or something that controls you. The time for cowering is over, Dorian. You aren't that person, at least not anymore, according to Malik. I believe him, and I believe in you. Come. Join us.” Vinny was spoke as he corralled Dorian to the side chamber with the pool. Vinny was looking over at him, everyone else standing by him, and all of them down to nothing but their small cloths.
A large part of him wanted to run, to flee, hide away from this entire situation. If he left, he could... but no. These people would know him, know him as the one that ran away.
Is it really that bad? To be known as a coward? So what? Who were they to judge?
As the thoughts ran through his head, and his face ran flushed, he knew he was hedging. He knew he hated his body, hated the way it looked and felt. They couldn't understand it, everyone here was healthy in their proportions. He felt like a pear being held up by two toothpicks.
There was another part of himself, buried deep beneath layers of psychological filth and social expectations. Underneath the weight of what others had imposed on him, beneath what society dictated, there was something raw, something yearning for freedom. It had been beaten back, crushed, shamed, and locked away. Barred from the world for so long, shackled in chains of self-loathing.
At his core, he knew the truth. This was his excuse. The reason he clung to when he failed, the justification for why someone didn’t like him, the explanation for why he deserved their contempt. Nobody was perfect, but Dorian’s imperfection wasn’t hidden, it was out in the open for the world to see. And the world gaped and laughed.
It didn’t matter how skilled he was, how much he achieved. Anyone could strip it from him with a single word. Fat.
If they were kind, they offered pity. If they were cruel, they wielded mockery. But in the end, it was the same. His insecurity was their weapon, and he had let them wield it for too long.
He was tired of pity.
Tired of remorse.
Tired of being the victim.
That part of himself, the small, beaten, battered, worn, and weathered bitter part of his soul raged against its shackles. Shackles, he realized, that he had placed there himself. They fell away, and his soul roared. With the pride of a lion, he faced his fears.
He turned to the crowd, fear trying to fill him, but defiance rebuking that fear like a fire fighting the cold. The people in the crowd were covering their eyes, hiding them away. It was only then that Dorian realized he had summoned his Gia, had purified it, and sent it throughout his body. He glowed with the iridescence of the sun. He threw his cloths down faster than he thought possible and stood tall. Sturdy as a mountain, chest bold to the world, staring defiance.
He dropped his Gia and said something he didn't really understand, but in the moment flowed out of him.
“I am Dorian Cook, first of the line, first to the house, and I'm tired of hiding.”