“Two…”
I crane my neck, making it pop, and bend my knees, leaning on the balls of my feet.
“One.Mors solum initium.”
The recruits around me take off at a sprint toward the entrance. I stand there for a moment before walking methodically behind them with Ben and Declan flanking me. They don’t question my decision to enter last. My pace is deliberate and calculated. Rushing into the unknown could set off whatever traps might lie in the first stretch of the tunnels.
In these Trials, caution is as valuable as courage.
Behind us, the atmosphere of moonlight and clarity recedes. Ahead lie only shadows and uncertainty. As the darkness envelops us, the last glimpse of the outside world fades, and we plunge into the depths of the tunnel.
The damp, earthy smell of the underground envelops me. Echoes of hurried footsteps and distant splashes reach my ears as the other recruits plunge deeper into the maze. The dim lightfrom my flashlight cuts through the blackness, revealing the rough, jagged walls surrounding me.
Every hit to my senses triggers a memory, a ghost from my past. My father’s stern voice as he instructed a younger version of me on the harsh lessons of survival. “Find your way out, Xavier. Prove you’re worthy to be a Donovan.”
These tunnels were my battleground, my playground, and my prison. I can almost feel the grip of my small, childlike fingers around a flashlight similar to the one I hold now, the beam shaky as I navigated through the dark, my heart pounding not just with fear but with unwavering resolve. Back then, I believed that each time I found my way out, it would bring me closer to earning my father’s approval.
Now, as I tread carefully over the familiar uneven ground, the memories morph into a clearer understanding of those trials. They were not just tests of physical endurance but emotional manipulation, my father’s way of forging me into what he thought I should be.
Whatever lies ahead in these tunnels is beyond the decrees of any council or the expectations of any family legacy.
I breathe deeply, the musty air filling my lungs, reminding me of all the nights spent here, learning every turn, every echo that might signify a dead end or a passage to freedom. Each step I take is measured, my senses heightened to any slight sound or shift that could indicate danger. A few minutes later, a clatter echoes, reaching the three of us. I pause, listening. A muffled curse follows, then silence.
It’s a friendly reminder of the risks that come with haste.
“I can’t believe they didn’t give us any weapons,” Benjamin says.
I lift my flashlight. “I could bludgeon you to death with this, no problem.”
“You know what I mean.” He rolls his eyes. “It’d be nice to have a knife at least.”
“Aside from the other recruits, the real danger in these tunnels isn’t something that can be stabbed or shot,” I say.
Declan nods. “You know this place is filled with boobytraps meant to slow us down.”
“Or kill us,” I say.
“I’m cool with a boobytrap.” When I make a face at Declan, he shrugs. “Boobytrap is party boob spelled backwards. Who doesn’t like that shit?”
I can’t keep from smiling. “You’re a stupid ass.”
“Love you too, fucker.”
We advance slowly, the beams of our flashlights sweeping over the damp walls and uneven floor. Benjamin’s earlier comment about weapons sticks with me as we navigate the dusty path. Our true weapon here is our wits, and I find myself falling back on the lessons learned in these very shadows. They were about patience, observation, and the importance of anticipating every possible threat and outcome.
My boot sinks into the dirt that’s growing increasingly damp as we walk. The water seeping through the cracks in the walls pools around my feet. With each step, the water rises, first lapping at my ankles, then soaking my pants.
“How deep do you think it is?” Benjamin asks.
“I don’t know. Stay on the perimeter, using the wall as a guide.”
I study the small body of water that’s now up to my waist, but it’s hard to judge the depth with only a flashlight to pierce the murky substance. Keeping one hand on the wall to steady myself, I wade through the water, the chill of it seeping into my bones.
A loud splash grabs my attention, and I spin around to find Benjamin emerging from the water. “You good?” I call out.
He nods and brushes his hair from his face. “I stepped in a fucking hole.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t twist your ankle,” Declan says. “That would’ve fucked you for the remainder of the Trial.”
