Page 20 of Above (Darkness Reigns #1)

Nova

“Even in a crowded room, I still feel so lonely. I think I might be truly unloveable. Good thing I have Mama, Dad, and Heavens. They’re all I need anyways.”

T welve thousand feet on this large of an incline was far harder than I could have ever imagined.

Talon and I had both agreed that shadow walking wasn’t an option. They wanted us stronger, which meant they wouldn’t welcome shortcuts. This was supposed to test our endurance and fortitude. Both things that I possessed, though I was forgetting the farther we went.

While I wheezed and slipped, Talon practically pranced up. Was his pack lighter? Had he willed a charm? There was no way he could be so unphased otherwise.

Eventually, I grew so sick of hearing his jokes, stories, and even breaths that I grabbed his bag from below to test the weight. Heavy. Maybe even heavier than mine. Damn.

Of course, he didn’t miss a step or so much as question my actions.

Instead, he maintained his pace and continued with his story about a dog he had as a child that his dad eventually killed.

It was so bleak and horrid, but Talon told it like a punchline.

As if his dad killing his beloved pet was almost funny.

Or, at the very least, expected. My already queasy stomach threatened to spill when he described the burial they held for the pet.

“Stars above, Zade, that’s awful,” I managed through gulps of air. But Talon just shrugged and began a new story, never faltering. Core families were so odd. Horrible, really.

I hated feeling bad for him of all people. My sympathy was better reserved for those who the cores hurt. Still, it was startling knowing that—in the end—monsters weren’t necessarily born, but made.

Behind us, the others made their way up, none of them even close to us after we had a head start.

While Altair had seen me leaving, he clearly hadn’t caught sight of where I shadow walked to, because he led the group at least a quarter mile behind us.

Talon didn’t acknowledge his friends or sister by looking back, only turning my way to speak to me when my attention veered.

When he started talking about the time he lost his virginity, I tripped him.

He toppled forward, his knees and hands hitting the rough stone without a noise.

I almost felt bad when he chuckled and got back up, wiping his dirty hands on his black leathers and wincing.

But then he finished his story and I was back to wishing he’d fall to his death.

Eventually, the sun began to rise, and I begrudgingly waved away my stars, not needing their light anymore. Though their comfort would’ve been nice.

“Those are impressive. We aren’t really taught to make things that don’t serve us. It must be nice to create for the sake of pleasure,” he murmured.

“What is that supposed to mean? They aren’t just for pleasure, they lit our way.” My argument only made him smile, like he knew he got under my skin and loved it.

“No, they lit your immediate vicinity. If you wanted to light our way, you could’ve done this.

” Flicking his hand forward, he summoned what had to be a dozen balls of blinding light.

A group of suns floating just ahead of us, creating a path that was illuminated in unending brightness.

Then, to really show off, he clapped his hands together and spread them out.

A gasp left my lips involuntarily as the suns merged, split, and scattered, shining their light across the expanse of the mountain.

He had to be lighting at least a quarter of the summit.

Pushing him sounded better and better.

“Whatever,” I scoffed, pulling ahead for all of five seconds before he caught up, his laughter seemingly dismissing the lights.

We eventually made it to the top without me pushing him or passing out from exhaustion. A win. Captain Zade must have seen her son first, because she did a sort of celebratory clap and bounce before catching sight of me. Her growl was audible, the look of pure hatred twisting her stony features.

Sucking in both air and patience, I walked silently at Talon’s side, depositing my pack where he set his before the captain’s feet.

It turned out that history books had been stacked in the bags—the very ones we would learn from in our coming lessons. We had quite literally carried history upon our backs.

Altair and the Otarn girl made it up second, followed by the rest of the trainees. From there, it only got worse. As I had suspected, we were kept awake for forty-eight hours, our bodies pushed through training drills, combat sessions, and even obstacle courses made of rope and rock.

Instead of sleeping, we did guard rounds, each of us learning how the academy and the island itself were protected.

If one of us so much as blinked too long, we were hit—hard.

My first smack was to my cheek by the captain running the gate, but that didn’t hurt half as bad as when Captain Zade shoved her fist into my stomach after I nodded off during someone else’s combat session.

I didn’t miss Altair’s splitting grin from across the way when Captain Zade called me disgusting as I gripped my abdomen.

At one point, our campsite in the woods was bombarded by large, all-black creatures that looked like blobs of darkness with dozens of wide eyes and three legs with sharp claws. I hadn’t been nearly as much help as I wished, the cores taking out most of the beasts.

Every hour, I was nudged farther towards my limit, the physical toll wearing me down. I saw myself falling behind, my own lack of training evident.

We were fed regularly, but I realized too late that there was something wrong with our lunch on day two. Too sweet for what had to be nearly raw meat and barely cooked potatoes.

It hit me then, what it was. Poison.

I was somewhat familiar with it from Poisons and Their Enemies , a book Mama had gotten me for my fifteenth birthday, and I was positive I had read about the antidote.

My eyes scanned the forest without much thought beyond not dying.

And there, not too far, were the bright purple flowers that had leaves I needed.

Just ten feet to the right was the small bush with the nearly fluorescent stems I would have to grind.

Nearby was a stream with fresh water, almost hidden within the dense greenery. It was all there.

“Everybody spit your food out! Now!” I screamed out, lifting my hands, closing my eyes, and focusing with all my might.

I thought of everything I would need, each ingredient and how they had to be handled.

In my mind I demanded my cauldron from back home appear.

When it did, I screamed at a terrified boy to collect water, ordering a far less scared girl to build a fire.

Then I began pointing at random people, demanding they grab each ingredient, some of them taking what felt like an eternity to collect what I needed.

Soon, I was grinding and stirring. Nearly everyone was watching, most of them listening to me surprisingly fast.

By the time I had finished, some of the trainees began to vomit, but not a single one of us died. Not even the cores, who I begrudgingly offered the antidote to.

That night, I was assigned to the Alchemy Division.

Everyone was celebrating, though I didn’t know what for.

While we had all somehow survived and were successfully placed into our respective divisions, the worst was yet to come.

We needed rest, not liquor and dancing. We had one more night here in the forest, with nothing but cloth sacks and a quilt for comfort—or in my case, shelter from the chaos.

I lay there, my head tucked beneath the fabric despite the wet heat of the night air, waiting for silence. But as the bonfire blazed and the trainees grew sloppy from the alcohol supplied by the oh-so generous cores, I found myself unable to rest despite my utter exhaustion.

Throwing off the quilt, I sat up and openly stared at the hundred or so of them where they danced and showed off their shadows about two hundred feet away. I had purposefully moved my things a good distance from theirs, but now I found that being alone like this was rather sad.

I had never went out of my way to make friends. Even when I was young and in primary school, I simply flocked to Celeste and her obnoxiously large group. They accepted me because I was her younger sister, not because I was particularly interesting.

And maybe that was what drove me in that moment to stand up, dust off my dirty leathers, and walk towards the fire-lit bodies ahead.

The music was coming from a pair of trainees who had a harmonica and a guitar.

The Dofrel boy with the thick curls had the harmonica, playing so quickly that I couldn’t fathom how he breathed through it.

But he did, a grin showing every once in a while.

Everyone cheered, yelled, and writhed, the chaos invigorating in a way.

I tried to blend, not wanting to call attention to myself, but the extra effort proved unnecessary.

No one cared about me, we were all just grateful to be alive still.

To be elites in the making. For the first time in a while, I was a part of something.

Though I was exhausted, I began to sway along, a reluctant smile splitting my face like a book being opened for the first time in decades. Fatigue drained out of me as adrenaline began to pump through my veins.

I was alive. I was an elite. I was so much more than I could have ever dreamed.