A hush falls over us, the children gathered in this circle of desecrated earth. We shift on our feet, fingers absently rubbing the rope burns on our wrists, like we’re trying to erase how we arrived here. Across the clearing, the girls break rank. They gather in clusters, talking and gesturing with bewildered expressions.
They get tested too, but not like we do. Not likethis.
“What’s going on?” a boy whispers farther down the line that we still hold. His voice cracks a little.
“Maybe it’s a scavenger hunt,” Sampson murmurs. “Like the one we did when we were eight.”
Someone snorts, tense, skeptical. “They blindfolded us for a scavenger hunt? How does that make any sense?”
A nervous laugh from someone. “Maybe it’s a sparring match? Or archery? Shooting?”
“No gear,” another mutters. “No weapons.” That’s Johnson. I recognize the edge in his voice. He’s scared.
Beside me, Thomson leans in, his voice barely audible. “Whatever it is, it’s not for fun.”
He says it softly, but it cuts through everything.
We all go quiet after that because we know he’s right.
Then they appear. The Fathers. The Mothers.
The entire High Council.
Twenty figures in total, twelve men in gray robes and eight women in white. They move in silence, a sea of fabric and unspoken threat.
Unease stirs, tickling and tightening the back of my throat.
My father steps forward and pulls his hood back so we can see his face. The same face as mine but aged, more lined.
“Children of The Order,” he announces, his voice loud and commanding. He turns his head slowly as he speaks, sweeping the circle with his gaze. “Sons and Daughters. Welcome to your next test.”
He lifts a hand toward the towering wooden pillars before him.
“This is the Test of Ascension. As you rise from youth into young adulthood, so too must you rise here. These poles represent your journey. Your struggle. Your worth.”
His voice turns colder. Sharper.
“The path to power is a perilous one. A balancing act, between duty and desire, strength and restraint, and, just like in life, to ascend you must climb.” A long pause. Almost gently, he adds, “Also, as in life, once you’re at the top there’s only one way down.”
My head snaps up to the poles. They must be twenty feet tall. Falling from one would be like plummeting off a two-story building.
Could I survive it?
Maybe.
Without injury?
Hell no.
My throat goes dry. Every breath feels too loud, too strained. Around me, the air grows thick with tension. No one moves. Even the girls have gone quiet.
Father gestures to the field of pillars. “One by one, you will climb. You will stand. You will endure.” A beat. “You may not speak. You may not assist. You may not intervene.” He lets that hang and then delivers the final blow, “The last one standing wins.”
That’s it. No countdown. No instructions. Just stand, until you fall or everyone else does. Which makes sense, in a way.
Because in The Order, survival isn’t the point.
Dominance is.
