I pursed my lips.
Can I do that instead?
Sadly, the opportunity to join the Spartans giving fellatio—and not competing to literal death—did not present itself.
Disheartening.
“This is amentaltest.” General Cleandro backed up and addressed all of us. “Until next January, you will not eat when you are here, unless we say so—spoiler, we won’t—you will also not bathe, and... you will not sleep unless you’re seconds from death. Also, if you’re injured, you’ll heal yourself. There will be no doctors to coddle you.”
The song changed, and the energy in the mountain shifted.
It was ominous.
He showed his teeth. “What you will do is study until your eyes bleed, and then”—he smiled maliciously—“you’ll study fucking harder.”
This is exactly why I avoid people.
“The crucible trains the mind.” He smiled. “The question we answer in this mountain—how will you react when everything crumblesaround you?”
He lunged forward like he was going to hit us, cackling as we flinched back.
“If you manage to survive the crucible,” he said with deceptive softness, “you’ll graduate and be named a citizen of Sparta. You’ll be an immortal god.”
His smile was wicked.
“But that’s a bigif... remember—” He thumped his fist against his wide chest and bellowed. “—THERE ARE NOSTUPID GODS—BECAUSE I MAKE SURE THERE ARE NOSTUPID SPARTANS!”
I flinched again.
This was not good.
“Welcome to the Spartan War Academy. Follow me.” He stalked along the edge of the pool, stopped at the first door, and opened it. “This is the sleeping quarters.”
Inside the dark low-ceilinged room were ten cots laid out across the rocks, nothing more.
The door slammed shut in our faces.
“I advise never going in there,” he said. “Not if you want to survive. Don’t tempt yourself with what you can’t have. It will make you weak.”
He moved on to the next door. “This is the bathroom—a privilege you don’t deserve. Back in my day, we shit in a hole.” He puffed up his chest like he was proud of that statement.
Were people okay?
The room was tiny with nothing but a rusted toilet that would probably give me diseases and a broken sink.
“Luxurious,” he spat and shook his head with disappointment.
He moved to the next door. “This is the classroom.”
It was another windowless cave-like room. The only difference was the red candles hung from the ceiling, along the perimeter of the wall, and their wax dripped into a smaller basin. Smoke from the candles hung along the ceiling in a misty cloud. My eyes watered.
There was a desk with a chair and a chalkboard on the front wall.
Ten separate piles—each with a notebook, three textbooks, and one pen—were spaced out across the floor.
There were no other desks or chairs.
It was barren and cold.
