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K amine adjusted her glasses as she craned her neck all the way back to get a good look at Skola—Thunder Court’s school of Undertaking training. Its dominating presence was always a blemish on the horizon, towering in the center of the court. Who knew a large rock could be considered a school? The black exterior was as old as the land itself, but Kamine knew that the action happened inside the behemoth, where she would be forced to hone her magic in an effort to save her village during the yearly Undertaking; a time each year when rocks rained from the sky. It was a test from the Weather Gods for the people of the Thunder Court, and each year a new cohort entered Skola to prepare themselves to face that wrath.

Failure would lead to the court’s downfall, their power dwindled and forever gone.

The first Undertaking Kamine could remember, she had spent under the bed. Her mother and father had tried coaxing her out, but she had refused to budge. Her parents had prepared her for what would happen, but at the time, it sounded like a story, not something that she would ever actually face. How could a child so young wrap their head around the fact that the world would one day come crumbling down on them?

“Be careful!” her father yelled, from behind her. She felt a slight push at her legs, as her little brother shoved her aside. Damien ran toward the stone structure with his arms extended and his hands desperate to explore. Small pebbles surrounded him, his powers manifesting effortlessly even at such a young age—a gift that he must have inherited from their mother. Damien didn’t notice though, instead too curious about all the excitement around him. This was his first trip out of Polude, their village in the southern region of the Thunder Court. Her first time, too.

The court itself consisted of various rural villages and was situated between the Snow and Lightning Courts. It produced clay bricks that were imported to the other courts on the continent—including the Sun Court and Rain Court—and the bricks were traded with the Solar Courts across the sea. Most importantly, with the power that this court offered, many chose to leave and construct the actual building infrastructure with ease, but they were required to return each year for the Undertaking. They were not allowed to escape from the event, and if they dared try, it was said that the Weather Gods would curse them.

A sudden gust chilled Kamine’s bones as she looked upon the various families in the square, clustered together. Parents were saying goodbye to their children, wishing them luck on a successful training, and later Undertaking. Kamine gulped down the tears threatening to spill as she watched a mother hug her daughter tightly. She wouldn’t allow herself to get emotional, not here, not for her deceased mother.

Kamine chased after her brother, grabbing him from under his arms to settle him on her hip. He had been seconds away from falling off the stone bridge that led to the entrance of the school. Just looking down at the abyss had been dizzying. She poked his small button nose, their mother’s nose. “That’s dangerous.”

Damien only giggled, reaching to pull on her brown, curly hair. He barely understood his right from his left, so how could he comprehend the horror of what the school before them represented?

“He truly makes me appreciate how good you were as a kid.” Her father relieved Damien from her arms and tickled under the boy’s chin. “You’ll cause quite the trouble, won’t you?”

Let him , Kamine thought. Their lives had no guarantee. Their existences ran short—her mother being a perfect example. So let the kids have their fun, because once they turned twenty-two, they would be forever altered.

“They’re going to call us in soon. You should go,” Kamine said with little emotion in her voice. The faster they said their goodbyes, the better. Stalling wouldn’t stop the inevitable.

Her father gave her a gentle smile as Damien stuck his tongue out at her. She hoped that after all of this, they were alive and well. She hoped that she would be able to come back home, and enjoy another meal with them by her side. Unfortunately, that future entirely depended on her ability to save them—an enormous hurdle she was about to face.

“You’ll do great, Kamine,” her father reassured her, his shaggy, brown hair blowing in the soft breeze. “These are the best teachers. They even trained me.”

Kamine rolled her eyes, but appreciated the sentiment. She was just glad that he didn’t bring up Mother. She wouldn’t have been able to deal with that.

“I’ll be okay,” she nodded, acknowledging his comforting words, more for his sake than her own. Since she hadn’t been able to access her powers, her father’s worry was amplified. “I’m sure my cohort’s professors will be knowledgeable and patient with me.”

“Of course they will be. They only want to see you succeed.”

As he put Damien down, she bent to the child’s level and extended her hands. Damien ran into her arms. She cuddled him, kissing his cheek. “Be good for Father,” she whispered. He shook his head. Truly a menace, that one.

Then she hugged her father, holding on just a moment longer than was necessary.

“Stay well,” were his parting words, and Kamine turned around, grabbing her bag.

She took one last deep breath of fresh air before heading into the dark tunnels of Skola, hoping that the next time she walked across this bridge, it would be to save her family in the Undertaking.

Beyond the few sconces that lined the walls of the long hallway—thanks to the Lightning Court—darkness took over. Already the space was too tight, the air too thick. The arched ceilings were not much taller than Kamine, and two bodies could barely fit side by side in the narrowness of the tunnel. It would be a long couple of months, simply trying to survive the day while her already light complexion turned gaunt.

She had no idea how she’d gotten into this mess.

Well…actually she did.

Her village voted her as this year’s honored Undertaking participant. She had been placed on a ballot with all of her fellow villagers who had also turned twenty-two that year—the age that the Thunder Court deemed a person capable of having the lives of a whole village on their back. There was no choice to opt out, because the Weather Gods would surely damn the entire court if anyone tried. The winner represented their village, and with each village having its own representative, it amounted to a total of eight participants actively training their magic alongside one another. The Undertaking was a cruel test from the Weather Gods to prove that the people of the Thunder Court deserved their magic and deserved for those powers to be replenished yearly. Whoever was not chosen—aside from young children who had little concept or control of their magic—was banned from using their powers for the months before the Undertaking in order to preserve the realm’s magic for the cohorts in training.

Kamine’s village had chosen her.

It was her mother’s fault, really. She had been a prodigy who not only saved her village with strength and pride, but who had also found the Heart in record time. The court treated the Undertaking like a massive game, and her mother had won it all. The shadow of her success clung to Kamine’s shoulders like moss on a rock. The pressure of her mother’s legacy was almost too much; Kamine wanted to turn around and run away from it all.

But the voices echoed from afar and the solidarity of the other student’s shadows urged her onwards, further into Skola’s dark underbelly.

Not wanting to stick out more than necessary, Kamine rushed to not be the last one to file inside. She followed the voices, making a sharp right turn and bumping directly into someone.

“Watch it!” the person grumbled, his voice deep and gravelly.

“Sorry,” she responded, panic rising in her throat. Sconcelight illuminated his bearded face. He appeared her age, just much larger, with a bag slung over his shoulder, just like her. Another student then, she concluded. “Is that not where all the new cohorts are meeting?” Kamine pointed in the direction of the chatter.

The man scrunched his brows, inspecting her too closely for comfort. His eyes snagged at her fisted hands that trembled, then trailed upwards to meet her own gaze. His jaw tensed, likely noticing her purple eyes even in the dim light.

“Yes,” he said, before heading off in the opposite direction of where everyone else was meeting.

Kamine shook off the strange interaction. She needed to focus. She couldn’t worry about some guy not being able to follow basic directions.

She continued on until she reached a large room with a high ceiling. At the very top of the dome was a small hole that allowed sunlight to beam through. At least they weren't completely cut off from the world then.

Finding a spot in the back, Kamine rested against the rough stone wall, dropping her heavy bag at her feet. She had been so tense for days— weeks— leading up to this moment. Most nights, instead of sleeping, she wandered the forest not far from her home. She always felt connected to the ground, there, and what was buried beneath it. Without its comfort, she feared losing her sanity.

Someone stepped up beside her. “That outfit isn’t going to do you any favors here.” Kamine inspected what she wore—a simple ivory linen dress that reached her midcalf. “You stick out.”

The woman speaking to her wore all black, with her pants and shirt clinging tight to her body, while her leather jacket hung loosely against her muscular frame. It was the conventional clothes of someone who would be training, something that protective gear could easily slip over with no fuss. Exactly why Kamine didn’t want to wear it.

“The glasses are not a smart choice either.”

Kamine huffed, tired of listening to this stranger’s opinions. “I can’t see otherwise.”

“That honestly sounds like a blessing. This place is an eyesore.”

“That’s an understatement,” she snorted. It was more than just an eyesore—it was a prison camouflaged as a school. “It’s like I’m stuck inside a Weather God’s asshole.”

The woman’s mouth dropped open, but she recovered with a big smile. Kamine tried not to cringe at the woman’s sharpened teeth. She extended her hand, “I’m Janina.”

“Kamine.”

“I think we’ll have some great fun together.”

Kamine wasn’t expecting that, but she’d take it. Anything to make her time here less miserable.

A woman at the front of the room clapped to draw the students’ attention, her simple gray dress blending with the surroundings. She stood atop a platform, the sun shining directly on her like a spotlight. Everyone stopped their conversations to listen.

“I am Dritoria, the Headmaster of Skola. All of you have been chosen by your respective villages to represent them this year during the Undertaking. Your people have put immense trust in you. Now, it’s time to prove yourself worthy. You have four months to sharpen your magic and skills, so when the time comes for it, you will be able to save your village with as few casualties as possible.”

Kamine gulped, loathing this with every bit of her being. She fidgeted at the delicate golden bracelet at her wrist—a gift from her father to her mother after she had won the Undertaking. There should never be a single casualty in Kamine’s opinion, but she wasn’t one to talk. She had a lot of work ahead of her to make that as much of a reality as possible.

Headmaster Dritoria continued. “Of course, there is the Heart that one of you will find first, bringing your village the greatest honor. Once it is found, the Undertaking ends with our Goddess of Thunder giving mercy to the entire court. But it is said that all five Weather Gods will bestow great luck and prosperity on the individual who is the first to find the Heart. Last year’s winner saw a surplus of potato growth in their village.”

Each of the five Weather Courts were overseen by their own individual God, one that represented its power, but legend had it that all of them worked together to create the joint continent. Therefore, each court had an Undertaking that was unique to its governing God's will.

“However, heed my warning—if you try cheating your way through this, the Gods will punish you. Curse you.” Headmaster Dritoria stared them all down with intense eyes that spoke of past experience of such occasions. “Winning the Heart is a privilege earned only by those who achieve it honorably.”

The cohorts whispered amongst themselves. A voice that echoed across the room mentioned that two participants once fought each other for the Heart, pulling each other away from touching it. One of them was almost killed as a result. This was news to Kamine—she never kept up with the gossip surrounding the Undertakings.

“I’m bringing that shit home,” Janina said, matter-of-factly, with no hesitation or doubt to be discerned in her voice.

Kamine gave her an encouraging nod. The last thing Kamine cared about was getting the Heart. She just wanted the people of her court to remain safe. That was her primary goal, and if her powers refused to present themselves, then she would need to find another way—no matter the cost.