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“I bet none of that was true anyway. No way would the first council let a bunch of beasts and mundanes dictate to demigods. The whole thing makes no—”
Ionna put the heel of her hand to her mouth and, “Pbtfffff.”
“Hey! Who was that? Who did that!”
We tore out of the lecture wing, laughing so hard Theron tumbled into Tycho and took them both down.
Eventually, we sobered and made our way to the last class of the morning.
Together, we gathered in the stadium arena, circling the lone man on the platform. Everyone except Daciana.
“You all heard my speech yesterday, but for the benefit of the latecomers, I will repeat myself. Self-mastery is power combat training. Here, you will train to improve your speed and accuracy.”
Kazran was a young man. I put him at early thirties, maybe late twenties. According to my friends, this should impress me. He was young, fit, and built. His spiky red hair caught beams of sunlight between his locks, drawing your eyes up for the slight second you could stand to look away from his cornflower-blue eyes and the tawny dusting along his nose and cheekbones.
Young, fit, handsome men such as him were serving their army sentence with no hope of getting a teaching position until they were much older and slower. For Drakos to get him assigned to the school proved how much power the headmaster had, and how impressive Kazran was.
“A long time ago,” he continued, “self-mastery class was sending novices off the grounds to face whatever crossed their paths. Some came back, some did not.”
I wonder if that was left out of the history books too.
“Eventually, monsters got wise. We weren’t sending out snacks. We were sending out hunting parties, and like us, some survived. Most didn’t,” he said. “As a result, they moved farther out of the area. Too far to send you out and back in half an hour. So, we make do with proficients.
“As you should’ve read in the handbook, there are four classes. Novice, Competent, Proficient, and Expert. In Deucalion, you do not move on to the next class until you prove yourself worthy. These men and women here today have done exactly that.”
Kazran clapped and ten men and women broke off from the circle and joined him on the platform.
I was getting through the handbook slower than the others, thanks to Selene. I tried reading it in bed the night before, but she spent the whole time shouting in my ear, demanding I begin the search for her prison. My argument that I’d waste more time wandering aimlessly around the massive castle if I didn’t have a hint on where to start didn’t satisfy her.
Amid her banging on, I read that proficients were students at the third level of training. The book impressed upon me the weight of graduating to proficient. By the third level, about fifty-five percent of the average starting Sisyphean class was dead. Thirty percent of the starting Titan class was gone.
We were looking at survivors.
“These men and women have powers closest to the kind of dangers you’ll face while protecting Olympia. Fire wielders, hypnotic abilities, shape-shifting tricksters, regenerators, speedsters, fliers, iron skins, magic bearers, elemental molders, and seers. What you’ll do is simple,” he said.
“They will attack. You will defend. This should go without saying, but I’ll say it anyway. You cannot move to another opponent until you’ve defeated your first. The same applies in battle because out there, if you cannot defeat your monster, you won’t move on... since you’ll be dead,” he deadpanned. “Any questions?”
No one spoke.
“Break into groups of ten,” Kazran called. “Except you five.” I blinked to find Kazran pointing at us. “Sisypheans like to bunch up together as if hoping all the extra limbs and flapping mouths will give them an advantage. It won’t. You learn by following in the steps of people stronger than you.”
“What does that mean, sir?” Nitsa asked.
“It means split up.”
I watched my friends shuffle off with uncomfortable looks and confused glances. Even before Daciana and I came along, I got the sense Ionna, Nitsa, Tycho, and Theron stuck together. Friends who always had each other’s backs. Like Kylie and Dina once had mine.
But not today. For any of us.
My friends split into different packs, and each followed a proficient to their own corner of the stadium. There was only me waiting beside the platform, wondering who to go with.
I wished Kazran said who exactly were the fire wielders and hypnotizers. I’d rather not have them first.
“Vanda,” he barked, waving me over. “Here.”
I turned toward him and froze. A group of nine stood in front of Kazran and a tall, long-haired woman with battle armorand a bored expression. It was Alexander, Ajax, Sirena, and her handmaidens.
“Why?” I asked, not moving a muscle. “What’s her power?”
