“We’re going to have so much fun,” Ashley giggled as her eyes stopped on Eve.
CHAPTER
3
It all began decades ago.
People born with magic residing within them. At first they were treated as mutants, devil’s offspring, outcasts. But then, one of them showed what their magic could do for humanity. Fire brought warmth. Those with power over earth helped soil stay fertile, making it easier to farm it over and over without the fear of crops dying.
The water mages gave us infinite water—with free access to clean water, many diseases were eradicated.
It was all bliss, until one day, greed crept in.
Humans wanted more. Power. Control.
That was their opening—the demons were tethered to the mages through the magic they were using. The continued use was the force that kept the monsters in our world, enabling their rampage. Whispers, temptations, the promise of more, for mages to become the ones we couldn’t survive without.
The firsts never knew what price they ended up paying, what we all had to endure because of their greed. Power was given, and a door was opened. The demons stepped through in all kinds of shapes and forms.
The most common were elemental demons, they provided more power to their mage and in return, they could run amok. Fire demons ravaged through the deserts, water demons lurking in the lakes and seas.
But then there were those mages who wished to rid themselves of qualities that hindered them; love, compassion, guilt. The price was steep, as shapeshifting demons often accepted this tribute, allowing them to steal the faces of others.
People without any magic were affected the most; caught in the crossfire, they didn’t stand a chance against the mages gone mad with power, or the demons who simply craved to devour.
And so, war broke out amongst the three of them. Mages, demons and regular humans, locked in a fight for survival.
The second round of the trials was not something anyone could manipulate.
Health evaluation.
They did some blood tests, checked our eyesight, mental health and so much more.
The ones with sharp sight were plucked directly into the sniper quarters. Those with bad nerves might become administrative personnel instead of being in the middle of the battlefield, thus not being allowed to truly join the Ashen Corps.
I simply wanted to fight, it was the only thing I knew how to do, the single thing I felt confident that I could excel at, with time. After getting my blood tested, they sent me back to the large warehouse, where a group of people still lingered. Some familiar faces, along with a couple of new ones. I noted that Lionel hadn’t returned here yet, but Ashley had.
“We keep meeting like this,” she smiled teasingly.
I placed myself next to her, finding some peace in knowing that I wasn’t on her target list,for now.
“Congratulations, you’re all here because you’re qualified to receive my attention,” Rohan’s voice echoed in the large room as he entered from the far side.
I wondered how many lives he had taken to become so arrogant, or rather how many he had seen die to become so utterly bitter.
“First trial showed you’re driven to survive, second that you’re not all lunatics,” he continued, not even glancing at us as he pulled his gloves on and straightened his leather jacket. “This is the last trial, and if you fail to impress me, you’ll go home knowing you were born to die.”
His voice turned from bored to cold steel within seconds, as his eyes shot up and took a good look at each and every one of us. There was nothing kind about his dark eyes, it was as if we were nothing but dirt underneath his boots.
“Nathanial Wickham,” Rohan said, like a threat.
A second passed, before a man stepped out from the crowd. His dark, brown tousled hair seemed almost wet from the moist air. He straightened himself, his hazel eyes locking onto his target as Rohan waved his finger at him, daring him to attack.
The man didn’t hesitate as he lunged, not intimidated by the taunt or arrogance the Sergeant was showing. No weapons, only fists. At first, the man made broad, wild swings that Rohan had no trouble dodging; instead, he prepared a counter in the middle of a dodge, connecting with Nathanial’s abdomen, the sound of it echoing along with his breath.
His hazel eyes turned animalistic and when another attack came from Rohan, the man slid away, took three quick steps and charged right into the Sergeant.
They fell to the floor and Rohan merely smirked at the notion, not at all fazed by his opponent having the upper hand. Nathanial straddled him, readying himself to land a few punches right to the face, but Rohan caught his hands and tumbled them around. Once out of the grip, he pushed himself up to his feet again, brushing off the dirt as if remaining clean was the most pressing issue.
