Unease bubbled in Hug's belly like yeasty dough did during the hottest days of summer, a fermenting disquiet that threatened to rise and overflow. As he drew closer to the retracted portcullis, he couldn't help but observe its intricate metalwork, comparing it to the crude horsehoes or scythes back at their farm—flimsy things dented and rusty from years of toll. This barrier before him was composed of thick iron strips, closely linked to form a chain-like gate.

  The warden watched them pass with a smirk, his voice easily carrying over the patter of tired feet. “Until we meet again, little shits,”

  "Wonder why he's not coming." mused Skylar

  Barker groaned. "Who cares. I hope his mother catches the skunk,"

  "He is scared," said Hug.

  "He is scared? Where did you get that?" asked Skylar.

  Hug answered honestly, "Just a feeling. But I think we will find out soon and I don't like it."

  Barker clapped Hug on the shoulder. "You, my dear fellow, feel strange things sometimes."

  "He does seem a lot less sure of himself." agreed Skylar

  Barker laughed. "As if his cock shrunk? Yeah."

  "Not the words I'd use, but sure."

  Moss-cloaked spires loomed over the courtyard in which they emerged, dwarfed only by the grey monstrosity of a building straight ahead. Hug craned his neck, vertigo gripping him as he traced the banners snapping cobalt against the sky. Why were these people building walls around their walls? Like a byre nested inside a barn inside a paddock, each fence doubting the vigilance of its brother. And the size of it all... Hug could not even begin to comprehend how or why one would build such a thing. How many could fit in there – a hundred, a thousand?

  “Welcome to the Stronghold.”

  Hug backed into the girl behind him in fright as he heard the soft, melodious voice, feeling sorry for the toes he crunched and cringing at her shout of pain. The crowd behind swore and tried to step away as well, yet were stopped by roses that grew together into another wall of sorts, hemming them in. Thorns like tiny awls reached out to snag at their clothes, as if the flowers were alive and sought company, and the air grew thick with the scent of flowers in full bloom, making Hug sneeze.

  “Be calm, children, and no harm will befall you. Upon my word.”

  A woman alighted gracefully upon the cobbled ground, black robes rippling. She had descended on roses. Roses. In the air. Out of nowhere.

  A black robe adorned her tall, slender frame, and she had dark hair that was straight and shining. She donned a brown hat of straw that matched the gleaming stars that were her eyes, and so fair her face was, sharp and soft in all the right places, fair as fair can be. It made Sunny seem plain, like bread without mustard or weddings without dance and wine.

  “Witchcraft!” shouted a boy from the crowd, his eyes wide with fear as he stumbled backward into another boy behind him.

  “Quiet down,” scolded the woman, her voice as soft as silk yet as commanding as thunder. She raised a hand, silencing the murmurs of the crowd instantly. “First, there is no such thing as witchcraft. This is radiance.” With a graceful swirl of her hand, a lone rose materialized between her slender fingers painted crimson, glowing softly in the dim light.

  She swept her arm across from one side to the other, encompassing all they could see and beyond. “It is our power. Ours – the people of the Empire.” The rose danced in her palm as if pulled by unseen strings. “You can harness it too – you will soon harness it.”

  Her gaze settled upon Hug and his friends once more. “This is our stronghold: twelve castles for twelve radiant masters, each a master practitioner of the radiant art.” She bowed her head slightly in introduction. “I’m Master Radiant Morgana, here today to test you all and determine where your fates lie within this ancient tradition.”

  “Test us?” asked a girl in the front of the crowd.

  “Oh yes,” answered Morgana. “People have different talent. Some are strong. Some are quick. Others are smart. And a select few are talented when it comes to radiance. I’m going to test this talent.

  “When can we go home? I thought we were going to go to the capital. Is this the capital?” Someone asked from the crowd. Murmurs of agreement followed.

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  The woman stood silent for a time, then blew out a long breath. “I see you have many questions. All in good time, I promise. First, let’s test you all. Can you do this for me? You might get slightly dizzy, but it won’t hurt.”

  A youth forward after some time. “It won’t hurt?

  “Not at all.”

  “O-okay, I’ll do it.”

  Morgana smiled, and it was as if a flower bloomed upon that fair face. Heat went to the youth’s faster than wine to a newly married fellow. Morgana put a slender hand to his forehead, his body visibly slacking and then shaking once.

  “Thank you,” the woman said, stepping back and pulling out a small book from within her robes – it was a mottled brown and there was a pen fastened to its cover. “Your name?

  “This…” the youth said wondrously. “Cedar. My name is Cedar.”

  Morgana wrote as she spoke. “What you are feeling is your radiance, awoken by mine. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes…” The boy looked back to the crowd, then to his hands held in front of him.

  “Now, step over there, please.”

  After turning and twisting his hands, Cedar simply walked where Morgana directed in a daze.

  “Next.”

  People eased upon seeing Cedar’s reaction. Hug observed how each of the tested were put in different groups and expected this was due to this so-called “talent.

  “Let's get this over and done.”

  Barker eyerolled Skylar and Hug as he stepped before Morgana, took a wide stance and arched his head slightly. Hug saw Skylar facepalm and grinned in turn.

  Morgana, unbothered, placed her hand upon his brow. The same thing happened to Barker as with the rest. Amazement. Pleasure. Befuddlement.

  “Next.”

  Barker was told to go to the same group that Cedar stood in. He gave them a shaky, cheeky smile as passed them.

  “You want to go for first, or should I?” asked Skylar.

  They were now the last two to be tested.

  Hug shrugged his shoulders. “You go, sky.”

  Skylar took a deep breath and walked over to the woman. With the same somber expression, she placed her fingers on his brow.

  Hug saw the change on the woman's face as Skylar's body slacked and shook. He doubted anyone else did, as they were placed behind her. Her eyebrows rose and her eyes widened. He even saw her lick her lips.

  "You will stay here," she said softly, placing a hand upon Skylar's shoulder and guiding him to stand not far from her, away from any groups.

  Beckoned forward by the woman, Hug approached. He glanced at Skylar, who stood in a daze. They exchanged a glance which told Hug he was alright.

  “Is everything okay for my friend, madam?”

  “Yes.”

  Hug turned to Skylar, smiled widely and made a thumbs up, then closed his eyes. Morgana put her fingers to his brow, and it was as if everything became weightless. Like when dawn breaks through the cloudscape and disperses the early, morning frost. Or when that first drop of water drips onto your tongue after playing “catch” all morning, magnified a thousand times. The touch unleashed a sunburst in Hug’s veins—dizzying, effervescent. His blood sang as something unfurled behind his sternum. It belonged to him and only him, yet he could not define what it was.

  “Right side, there.” She gestured for the group next to that in which Barker stood. Hug went over.

  “What the hell is Sky doing there?”

  Hug shrugged. He truly had no idea.

  Barker swore but said nothing further.

  “Thank you for your patience.” the woman said, putting away her black book in the folds of her garments. “Now follow me, please, right this way. Stay in your groups.”

  Hug hurried along with the people of his group, of which he knew none except Barker. He glanced back and saw Skylar following behind Morgana in silence.

  The walked through another gate and appeared in a small courtyard. In total, they were probably over five hundred boys and girls, divided into nine groups of differing sizes.

  What awaited them were eleven figures dressed similar to Morgana. Their robes billowed as they descended from the sky. One flew upon a black spear, another surrounded by a golden shine. There was even one who sat cross-legged as he descended.

  What made Hug shudder was their gazes. He had seen farmers inspect cattle, and these people watched them the same. With sweeping, calculating gazes. With less regard than even the farmer.

  The figures didn’t even bother coming to his group, nor to the middle groups. They focused on the twenty or so boys and girls within the group to the rightmost side. They each chose a person, pulled them away, and not long after, they had retreated along with their chosen.

  A tall man spoke then; he stood in the centre of it all, dressed in an abstentious white garment and wearing pretty sandals. “Thank you for your patience. You must be confused and afraid, but I promise you this; there is a reason for everything, and all will be explained when the time comes.”

  “These twelve,” he swept his hands toward those who had been chosen by one of the twelve figures as well as to Morgana who stood alone behind the groups. “Will stay here and train in the stronghold. You all will not.”

  The man snapped his fingers. Hug watched in despair as the wardens came out from each corridor to the side of the courtyard. The lead warden, helmet off, smiled as he approached. “We meet again so soon, little shit.”

  It seemed the lead warden stayed behind not because he was scared, but to take another entrance. Strange, however, there was no other gate from what they had seen.

  “You are now in the immortal lands of the Empire.” the tall man said unsmilingly. “Much has been kept from you and more will. But know this, there is a war going on, a war of survival, a war that determines the fate of our people. It is time you contributed.”

  He waved at the wardens and they obliged, forming a menacing perimeter around the groups of captives, shepherding them with brute force toward the dark, foreboding corridor that branched out from the courtyard to the left. Those who dared to resist or flee were met with swift and merciless blows from the wardens' clubs or the sharp points of their boots. Hug was smart enough to stay put, though Barker got a bloody lip.

  From his periphery, Hug spotted Skylar sprinting toward him and Barker with desperation etched on his face. Before he could reach them, however, a bundle of illusionary roses grew from nothing, their thorns glistening as they ensnared him in a tight embrace.

  Be safe, my friend, Hug prayed to the Vakkarim as he and Barker were swallowed by the corridor.