Author: Alessandra Hazard
Category: LGBT
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Eridan dropped his gaze, realizing that his question had likely been taken as a mockery. Berunn definitely couldn’t be much younger than twenty.
He coughed slightly, not knowing how to make the situation less awkward. He didn’t want the older initiate to hate him.
“What is the earliest age we can be chosen by a Master?” he said softly, looking up again.
He had expected that the neutral question would relax Berunn, but instead, a strong emotion, something angry and bitter, rolled off the older boy as he glared at Eridan. “You should be careful, Initiate Eridan. Gloating does not befit a member of the Order.”
Eridan frowned in confusion. “What?” he said. “What do you mean?”
Berunn’s lips twisted into something ugly. “Just because Master Idhron already preliminarily claimed you, it doesn’t make you better than us, Eridan. You are still a junior initiate. He might change his mind yet.”
Eridan stared at him, bewildered. What?
But before he could say anything, the class exploded with shouts, other children’s anger, confusion, and jealousy quickly overwhelming Eridan’s senses. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to protect his mind from the onslaught, but it was useless. His head started spinning, nausea rising to his throat, and the next thing he knew, everything was dark.
***
When Eridan opened his eyes, he was in the infirmary, and there was an unfamiliar Master seated in the chair by his side.
The man’s gaze was on the datapad in his hand, so Eridan took the opportunity to study him. Straight pale hair tied back, a sculpted face with a chiseled jaw, a straight nose, and eyebrows much darker than his hair. The stubble on his face was quite dark, too.
He was very young for a Master, Eridan noted with some surprise. The man must be in his early to mid-twenties. Eridan would have never thought such a young man could be a Master, but the heavy black robes with the Order’s insignia that the man was wearing clearly denoted his rank. Only Masters could wear them. He wasn’t even a Master Acolyte—he would be wearing gray robes if that were the case. He was a full-rank Master.
Eridan stared at him in fascination. He hadn’t seen all that many adults besides the Overseer. The senior initiates that taught children his age were barely older than children themselves. Eridan knew that as he got older, his classes would be taught by Master Acolytes, but that hadn’t happened yet.
“You should learn to shield your mind,” the man said, lifting his gaze to him.
His eyes were deep blue.
Eridan shrugged, looking at him curiously. “I’m seven. We’ll learn shielding at eight.”
The Master gave him an unimpressed stare. “Correction: mediocre initiates learn shielding at the age of eight. You should push yourself harder if you want to be better than just mediocre.”
Eridan opened his mouth and then closed it, uncertain. “Who are you? Why are you here?”
The man gave him a look that was actually rather unreadable, but Eridan could feel a spike of irritation coming off him. “I am Castien Idhron. I would not be here if you had not ended up in the infirmary.”
Eridan’s heart lurched. “You’re my Master?”
Master Idhron’s lips thinned slightly. “Not yet. But I did claim you preliminarily, so I am the one the healers contact if something happens to you, so do try not to faint again. My time is of value. I have neither the time nor patience to coddle children.”
Eridan’s heart dropped. When he’d imagined being chosen as a Master’s apprentice, he’d always imagined his Master to be someone… kind and warm, the opposite of this cold-eyed young man.
“Why did you choose me, then?” he said, trying not sound petulant and hurt, and probably failing, judging by Idhron’s pinched look.
It took the man a moment to reply.
“You show promise,” he said at last. “If you apply yourself, you will be a good mind adept one day. If you apply yourself, which I am not sure you are capable of.”
And with that, Master Idhron stood and strode out of the room.
Eridan stared at his retreating back, annoyance, anger, and hope warring inside his chest.
But above all, there was determination. Determination to be better, to be the best.
He would show him.
Chapter Two: Unwanted
Eleven years later
“Concentration, determination, will: those are the key factors for mastery of telekinesis,” Master Acolyte Ferev said. “Not all of you will succeed in my class. In fact, most of you will not succeed. The majority of telepaths have no talent for this field. Manipulating physical objects is one of the most difficult abilities to master for a mind adept. In fact, if you do not possess some natural aptitude for it, telekinesis is not something one can simply learn by studying.”
Eridan let the instructor’s voice fade into the background as he eyed, with great trepidation, the rock on the table he shared with Initiate Xhen. He tried to ignore the smug smirk on the other boy’s face.
“You look scared, Eridan. But then again, I would be, too, if I were as pathetic as you.”
Eridan clenched his jaw and said nothing. Xhen was a giant prick who loved the sound of his own voice a little too much. Ignoring him would be the best response.
But he’s right, isn’t he?
Eridan tried to push the thought away, but he couldn’t quite do it. Over the past eleven years, he had tried to do better in his studies, he had tried so hard, but he stood out among his peers for all the wrong reasons: he was too emotional, too temperamental, too undisciplined. While he had learned shielding, he was still susceptible to other people’s strong emotions. He was also terrible at meditating and clearing his mind, the main reason he was painfully mediocre in every subject they had learned at the Initiates’ Hall so far.
He knew he was a disappointment. All his instructors had implied it countless times. Even when they didn’t say anything, Eridan could often pick up their general emotions and thoughts.
Wasted potential.
It’s no use being a Class 5 telepath if you can’t be disciplined enough to actually apply yourself.
They all were wrong. Eridan did apply himself. The problem was, it didn’t work. His telepathy was too erratic, difficult to control, and prone to reflecting his emotional state rather than his rational thoughts. Eridan knew the problem stemmed from his inability to properly meditate and order his mind. It was one of the first postulates that they learned as initiates: a calm, orderly mind was a requirement for mastering mind arts. But there was just too much noise in Eridan’s head. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the noise, so he remained painfully mediocre in all his classes, if not worse.
Eridan had no reason to think telekinesis would be any different.
“It is not enough to imagine grasping that rock in front of you,” Master Ferev continued. “Telekinesis does not work like that. You must be able to sense it, to sense the air around it, the same way you were taught to stretch your senses to sense other people. You must be able to feel it. It is an inanimate object, yes, but it is still possible to sense it—and manipulate it if you have the aptitude for it. Now begin.”
There was a murmur of discontent.
Unlike his peers, Eridan was unbothered by the vague instructions. He always did better when he could just wing it. Rules and strict instructions were so damn stifling.
He cautiously stretched his senses and winced, trying to block out his classmates’ emotions.
“You look constipated. Don’t hurt yourself.”
Eridan gritted his teeth, determined to ignore Xhen. Fuck that dickhead.
“I’ve heard Master Idhron spoke to Initiate Daylinne yesterday. He’ll probably ditch you for her. No wonder. She isn’t a failure.”
Eridan glowered at the rock, his hands balling into fists. Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him.
“Your jealousy is showing,” Eridan bit out, pasting on a smile that probably looked a little feral.
“Piss off.”
Xhen smirked. “Did I hit a nerve? Wait, is that actually true that he hasn’t come to see you in years? Seriously?” He laughed.
And Eridan’s vision turned red.
The next thing he knew, Xhen was choking, his eyes bulging out as he tried to breathe, hands wildly grasping at his own throat.
“Initiate Eridan!”
Master Ferev’s voice was like a bucket of cold water.
Eridan flinched and looked around, registering the stares of his classmates.
He looked back at Xhen, who was taking greedy breaths now that he wasn’t choking anymore.
Had he… had he done that? Choked Xhen? With his will alone?
With rising trepidation, Eridan lifted his gaze to Master Ferev’s.
The instructor was staring at him. His face was blank, but his emotions were slipping through the cracks in his shields. Amazement, confusion, and… apprehension.
Eridan swallowed.
“Class, you are to return to your assignment while I’m gone,” Master Ferev said at last, still looking at Eridan. “Eridan, with me.”
His stomach in knots, Eridan followed the instructor out of the classroom.
They walked in silence, Eridan a few steps behind the man, as was proper. He had his eyes fixed on Master Ferev’s gray robes, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what had just happened and where Master Ferev was taking him.
They had already left the school’s building and were walking toward the Inner Districts of Hronthar.
Eridan frowned, confused and curious in equal measure. In all his years of living in Hronthar, he’d never been to the Inner Districts. The initiates and younger children all lived and studied in the town’s Outer District, or District O, as they called it. Immediately after District O, there was the largest district, District One, where the servicing department of the Order was located. The other four districts were for actual members of the High Hronthar Order: Masters, Master Acolytes, and their apprentices. The apprentices lived in District Two, with Masters living in the more central districts. District Five, or simply High Hronthar, was the castle located on the hill in the center of the town, inhabited only by the Grandmaster of the Order.
Eridan stared at Master Ferev’s back, wondering if he should ask where they were going.
A burst of wind made Eridan shiver and cross his arms over his chest, trying to ward off the chill coming from the surrounding mountains. Although Calluvia’s climate was artificially controlled and kept warm all year round, it didn’t feel like it, not up here. Eridan had left Hronthar only a few times in his life, and each time he was amazed how warm the rest of the planet was.
It was beautiful up here, though. Hronthar was located in a highland valley surrounded by mountains and forests. The scenery was breathtaking. The sun filtering through the ancient trees made Eridan smile a little.
“I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you, Eridan,” Master Ferev said.
Eridan snapped his gaze to him. “What do you mean, Master?”
Master Ferev sighed. He was a man around thirty—pretty young for a Master Acolyte—so he wasn’t as intimidating as most Masters were.
“What do you think you just did to your fellow initiate?” Master Ferev said.
Eridan frowned. “I guess I did some form of telekinesis, right?”
Master Ferev laughed.
Eridan stared at him. “Did I say something amusing?” he said in a bewildered voice.
“Do you know that only one percent of telepaths can do any form of telekinesis?” Master Ferev said, without looking at him.
They were passing through District Two, and Eridan looked around curiously. There were all sorts of houses and apartment buildings in here, ranging in size and luxury. Eridan wondered how the apprentices were assigned their living accommodations. The rumor said that it depended on how high-ranking their Master was, but some claimed that it all depended on how much the Master actually liked their apprentice.
“And?” Eridan said, unsure where Master Ferev was going with this.
“Out of that small number of telepaths capable of telekinesis, only a fraction can affect the object for more than a few moments. Sustaining the pressure like you did with your classmate is…” Master Ferev shook his head. “It is unheard of, even for a Class 5 telepath like yourself.”
Eridan frowned, not understanding. “I thought it was well known that high-level telepaths could physically hurt a person?”
Master Ferev got into the t-chamber, gesturing for Eridan to follow him in. “You are confusing two different things, but it’s not my place to explain it to you. And frankly, I’m not qualified to deal with this. District Four,” he told the computer and the transport started moving.
Eridan looked around curiously. The few times he’d used t-chambers in the past had happened during his excursions to the mainland of Calluvia. In his understanding, Hronthar’s t-chambers were a little different. Normal t-chambers couldn’t function in Hronthar, because the korviu deposits in the mountains caused too much magnetic disturbance to receive a teleporting chamber from the other parts of Calluvia. Hronthar’s t-chambers had special modifications that allowed them to jump between the local addresses of the town, but they couldn’t teleport to the mainland of Calluvia, either.
Hronthar was effectively an autonomous world within Calluvia. Not that the rest of the planet had any clue about the town’s existence. As far as Calluvians were concerned, the High Hronthar was a small order of monks that inhabited a monastery in the middle of a desert, which, technically, was true, Eridan supposed. The ancient monastery in the Araal desert in the foothills of the Kavalchi Mountains was part of the High Hronthar, just a very small part that the outsiders were allowed to see. A front. The tip of a giant iceberg. Other Calluvians had no idea that the Order’s main settlement was located high in the impassable region of the Kavalchi Mountains. The korviu deposits prevented satellites from scanning the region and discovering the town.
“Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” Eridan said as they arrived. He got out of the t-chamber and looked around curiously. He’d never been to District Four: the Masters’ district. The atmosphere here was completely different from the outer districts. The buildings were spaced out, and most of them were big enough to be called mansions. High above the district, Eridan could see the spires of High Hronthar, though the clouds obscured the view of the castle.
“Supposed?” Master Ferev said. “Definitely not. But your Master lives here.”
Eridan flinched. “You’re taking me to Master Idhron?” He added belatedly, “And he isn’t my Master.”
Ferev continued walking, as if he hadn’t heard him.
Scowling, Eridan reluctantly followed him. “He isn’t my Master,” he repeated. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“He may not have claimed you yet, but he does have a preliminary claim on you,” Ferev said. “Unless he cancels it, he might as well be your Master.”
Eridan pursed his lips. “Don’t I get a say in this? Maybe I don’t want to be his apprentice.”
Ferev’s head whipped toward him. He stared at Eridan incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous, Eridan. Castien is one of the best mind adepts of the Order—some say he is already the best, despite his age. Most of the initiates would give their right hand to be his apprentice.”
“Then they’re idiots,” Eridan said with a scoff. “What’s so special about him anyway? People always talk about him like he’s the next Grandmaster, but no one ever says why he’s so special and great besides—well, besides belonging to the Idhron lineage.” The Idhron lineage was one of the oldest in the Order and famous for producing great Masters.
Master Ferev shook his head a little. “You do realize that I can hardly gossip with you about my superior, right?”
Eridan rolled his eyes. “Who would I tell? Master Idhron?”
“Regardless,” Ferev murmured, radiating discomfort.
“Oh, come on. It’s
not like he’s the Grandmaster. Isn’t he about the same age as you?”
Ferev gave a tight nod. “We were in the same class as initiates, actually.”
“Really?” Eridan said, looking at him with interest. “Then why are you so scared to talk about him?”
Ferev glared at him. “You’re forgetting yourself, Eridan. And I’m not scared. Has it not occurred to you that I don’t want to gossip about Castien because I know him well enough to know better?”
Eridan considered it. He still couldn’t imagine being intimidated by one of his classmates. “You’re a Master, too,” he said with a frown.
“Master Acolyte,” Ferev corrected him. “It doesn’t matter that we’re the same age. Idhron is still my superior. If you weren’t so laughably naive, you’d know that age isn’t what guarantees you respect in the Order. There are full-rank Masters twice my age that treat Castien as deferentially as any lowly initiate does.”
Eridan’s forehead wrinkled. “But why?” That was what he didn’t understand. How could a man who was barely over thirty command so much respect and fear in the Order?
At first, he thought Ferev wouldn’t answer.
But at last he did, still looking straight ahead. “Castien has always been different from the rest of us. Every single one of us hated him—and wanted to be him, because he was perfect in every class. It didn’t make sense, because he wasn’t even the most naturally gifted telepath in our year: he was just Class 3.”
Eridan’s mouth fell open. “Master Idhron is just Class 3?” Much weaker than him?
Ferev smiled. “He was Class 3 when we were seven years old. He was Class 4 by the time we were eleven. He was Class 5 by the time we were sixteen. Last I heard, he was Class 6.”
Eridan stared at him in puzzlement. “But that’s not—that’s not possible!”
“Apparently, it is. Castien has found a way to increase his telepathic strength—to do what has always been thought to be impossible—and he’s obviously not sharing how he has done it. It’s understandable that most people are wary of him. If he could do that, who knows what he’s really capable of.”