Skylar watched helplessly as his companions were escorted away by the wardens, powerless to intervene. He struggled weakly, shouting and thrashing in his futile resistance. The ground blurred as his tears fell, the roses coiled like serpents, their teeth biting deeper; for a heartbeat, Skylar believed he would be crushed, and was numb to the thought of death, until he was freed and collapsed, his limbs trembling like soaked reeds.

  Morgana stood serene, watching him as he turned to meet her gaze.

  “Why?” gasped Skylar between ragged breaths.

  “What?”

  “Why not let me go with them?”

  Morgana seemed genuinely surprised. “You would rather go to the camps?”

  “What camps?”

  Morgana ignored his question. “Anyway, this is an opportunity of a lifetime. Your friends will be happy for you, I’m sure. Come.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She exhaled, a frost-laden breath, and turned. “Follow willingly or be dragged by force. The choice is yours.”

  Skylar glared at her retreating figure. Memories of emerald vines and jagged teeth flickered behind his eyes. He glanced down at his shirt. It clung to him like a second skin, stained crimson, and gulped.

  “Damn her.”

  He sprang after her, catching up as she emerged in a garden within the castle.

  Sun-leathered men in rough-hewn straw hats wandered between squarely trimmed hedges, shears and other small instruments in hand. Wardens patrolled the cobbled paths, their gray armour glinting like river stones. In scattered patches of shade, robed figures sat with books or eyes shut to the world. They donned varied coloured robes and did not seem to associate with a different colour to their own, something Skylar wowed to remember – whatever it meant.

  “Radiance is a power unique to our people.”

  Morgana’s voice cut the silence as they stepped onto a road flanked by cedars. Farmland and villages sprawled like a patchwork quilt across the grasslands. At the horizon, another castle pierced the sky.

  “What?” he muttered.

  “Radiance,” she repeated. “It flows where soul, mind, and body converge.”

  “Yeah, you said that.”

  “Scholars once sought its origin,” she continued, unfazed. “They faltered, yet in their failure, they concluded it sprang from the trinity of our being.”

  Skylar snorted. “You sound like Old Marin droning about alphabets.”

  Morgana arched an eyebrow. “And you comprehend letters. How… unexpected.”

  A gargantuan snail crept up a cedar trunk. Nearby, a farmer shouted, his words lost to the breeze. Skylar squinted at the fields—what grew here? A wind whispered through the stalks, stirring a golden tide, and he had his answer. Wheat.

  “This power hinges on two traits: output and resistance. Your friends possessed adequate talent, thought not enough to stay.”

  Skylar studied the dancing cedar boughs. “And I have this talent?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then why separate me?”

  “Your radiance… intrigues. And there is more than talent that decides the fate of radiants.”

  The road ended at a castle crowned by five towers. Wardens guarded its open portcullis. Morgana greeted them as the two entered.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You needn’t.”

  Skylar scoffed. “What?”

  Inside, dirt gave way to cobbles, cedars to stone giants. A courtyard fountain spilled liquid silver under the sun

  “You can choose any unclaimed room in the castle or outside” Morgana said. “You’ll dwell here for years.”

  “Right,” Skylar muttered. “I can get a room, but not an answer.”

  “Don’t be insolent,” she warned. “I can have your friends stripped raw by the lash.”

  He laughed. “You’re joking.”

  “Do I look like someone who cracks jokes?”

  Skylar bit his lip. “No?”

  “Keep it in mind.”

  At that moment, his gaze snagged on the eastern tower. Moss veiled its cracked stones, and a lone balcony clung to its peak, overlooking the fields. It bespoke to him. Called him.

  “I can pick anything I want?”

  “Within limits.”

  He pointed, and she looked.

  “Up there?”

  “Yes.”

  Morgana shrugged. “As you wish.”

  They entered the main hall. Six corridors branched outward and everything was draped in fanciful fabric, mostly rose-themed black. Ornate pieces of pottery guarded intricate desks, and beautiful paintings lined every wall. There were mirrors too, like captured, frozen ponds. Tables and chairs were placed around the room, even larger ones Skylar had never seen.

  “Each corridor lead to wings housing my faction—disciples, guests, servants.”

  “Your faction?”

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  “All masters command territories in the stronghold. This castle and the surrounding villages belong to me.”

  “To you? Like slaves?”

  “Everyone belongs to someone.”

  “I belong to me.”

  “Believe what you like.”

  They halted at an ornate door after having entered one of the corridors. Morgana knocked, and a rotund man with a pudgy face greeted them, bowing deeply.

  “Madam, welcome,” he said, voice a warm hearth, letting them enter.

  The room was surprisingly intimate, despite its grandeur. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with books and dust. A lush, crimson carpet, soft like grass underfoot, stretched across the floor, leading to a massive oak desk. Behind the desk stood a tall, cushioned chair upholstered in worn leather, with a matching one situated before it.

  “Fowl, this is… the little tiger I’ve plucked this season,” Morgana snickered.

  "I see, madam." was all the man said."

  “Send for Melodious." she continued. "Training begins at dawn. Arrange for clothes and necessities and hire some fifths to clean up the east tower. That’s where he’ll live for the next few years.”

  “Of course, madam. Is there anything else I can do?”

  Fowl had a pleasant voice.

  “Show him to one of the available rooms after you have explained to him what his duties will be. And make sure Doran knows to go get him tomorrow to meet with Melodias. That’s all.”

  “As you wish.”

  Morgana promptly left the room, leaving Skylar and Fowl staring out the empty doorway.

  Fowl turned to him and offered a hand. It was a smooth hand without callouses. The man smelled of flowers and soft living. Some sort of perfume?

  “I’m Fowl, chief steward.”

  Skylar took the hand. “Skylar.”

  Fowl gestured for the empty chair in front of the desk. “Sit, young friend.”

  Skylar sat and seemed to never stop sinking. “By the edicts! How is this so soft?!”

  “I know, right!” Fowl sat down in the opposite chair. “And since it’s leather, it gets softer as it ages and adapts to your shape.”

  “Really?”

  “Very much so. Anyway. Skylar, what an intriguing name!”

  “What?”

  “You name.” explained Fowl,” is very interesting. The naming tradition of the mortal lands fascinate me to no end, you see. Something with the sky?”

  “Well, my parents said I was a rowdy child… but that I quieted beneath open skies.”

  Fowl chuckled. “I see. Thank you for explaining.”

  He clapped his hands together. "So, what has the lady shared with you about the stronghold so far?"

  Skylar scoffed. “Not much. She said I’m her apprentice. That I’ll fight in a contest. And that I belong to her.”

  “Listen. The stronghold is a bridge between the mortals lands, where you come from, and the immortal lands, where the Empire has its seat of control.”

  Fowl took out a piece of parchment from a drawer. He inked the feather from the top of the desk, put its tip to the beige, white surface.

  “These are the mortal lands.” Fowl drew a small shape that resembled a pig without its legs. Where the head ended, he drew a sharp line. “Here is the wall and the stronghold.” he then made a far larger shape, perhaps ten times wider, and connected it with the sharp line. “This is the immortal lands.” He circled the centre of the immortal lands. “ And this is immortal city, the seat of power of the empire. Here resides the council, Edictum, and ruling families among others.”

  “Edictum…” Skylar suddenly remembered the fancy radiant master’s words and looked up from the parchment. “They said something about a war earlier.””

  “Ah, the war, yes.” Fowl became sombre. “Many years ago, people not from here came to our lands. We were simple folk back then. Small nations, many kings and queens. Radiance was used in all parts of life, but seldomly in combat, for there was no need. Wars were often fought in duels between champions, such was the guidance of the Edictum, a place of scholarly pursuit and tempering of radiance.”

  The portly man took a breath, then continued. “Then the invaders came, and everything changed. They are not from our world, you see. We have radiance, but they have something called a system. I haven’t faced an invader myself, but they are said to be controlled or guided by something they called the system. They do things the system tells them to do, and they get stronger. Whenever they kill another being, they get stronger. Can you believe such an outrageous thing?”

  “I can’t” Skylar admitted.

  “Me neither.” Fowl let out a laugh, then turned serious again, all trace of joviality gone. “But it’s true, and that’s why the Sadrian empire was formed. The kings and queens of the past became members of its council, and the Edictum became their advisor and teacher. From researching how to improve life and contemplate morals to finding better ways to kill…” the man sighed, and put away the piece of parchment. “Never mind, you’ll learn soon enough.”

  “And we are to fight them? The invaders?” Skylar took a deep breath, trying to calm his bubbling feelings. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing of this now?”

  “Would you have been better off hearing it before?” Fowl asked. “Would it have mattered?”

  “I suppose not…” Skylar grumbled. “But… everything feel like a lie.”

  “You’ll learn soon enough lies are the cornerstones of society. In any case, your training will begin tomorrow. Melodias is a hard teacher. And the tests each month will be brutal.”

  “Tests?” Skylar sighed, remembering the tests their village’s reading teacher used to make them complete. “What is this competition anyhow? And what am I going to train, this radiance thing?”

  “Before, there were many things tested.” Fowl said. “Manipulation, tension, efficiency, adaptability– now, sadly, we strive for only one goal.”

  Skylar frowned. “And that is?”

  “Power.”

  “Strength?”

  “Radiance and physicality.” explained the portly man, leaning back in his chair. “Each test is different, but always involves fighting of some sort. And after a test, each contestant is given a number to represent their standing. Sure, tactics and intelligence helps, but… power is indeed most important.

  “So I will fight against the others… using this radiance thing and my fists?”

  “Not only that, you must also use knowledge and wit. In these tests, you see, there are no rules. One time, I saw eleven gang up on one. There is also the chance of death, although we try to avoid it. Depending on where you place, you will be given medicine.”

  “Like ginger root?”

  The portly man laughed. “Ginger root, he says… no, my young friend, The medicine I’m talking about is far more… potent. Medicine to develop radiance.

  “Sounds strange.” replied Skylar.

  “Much will be strange for you in the coming days.” Fowl stood and gestured for the door. “Come, my young friend. I’ll take you to your room. We can speak on the way.”

  They left the west wing and entered the south one, according to Fowl at least. Everything was a labyrinth of twisting paths to him. This section of the castle, however, seemed less used. Paintings gathered dust on the walls, snakes of dust lingered in the corners and errant cracks marked the gray stone.

  “An advice, Skylar.” said Fowl from beside him. “Choose your fights carefully.”

  “In the competition?”

  “In the stronghold.” clarified the portly man.

  Skylar turned to look at him.

  “You mean Morgana.”

  “Precisely. Cross her, and you’ll learn cruelty.”

  Skylar couldn’t help rolled his eyes. “So I should just do everything she wants me to?”

  “Madam did not get to where she is by being kind.”

  “Even so.”

  The portly man sighed. “You’ll soon find out we fifths are nothing here, and that what we think matters less than a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. You may be chosen as a radiant in training, but until you graduate you have fewer rights than cattle. Even people like me, who belong to others, are nothing.”

  “What do you mean fewer rights than cattle?””

  Fowl gestured for the open door. “Someone will come get you tomorrow to meet your trainer. Don’t forget what I said.”

  And with that, the man turned and walked away.

  Fifths… slaves? Cattle? Skylar stood silent for a moment, then rolled his shoulders entered the space beyond,

  There was a single bed placed near a small window, a desk to one side, and nothing else. Dust littered the floor. Dragons of it.

  “Great.” muttered Skylar as he closed the door behind him.