21
Willow
On the thirteenth day of their induction, Willow and the others were given a choice. The first real choice they’d been given since their arrival.
They were seated in the library and Serena spoke of the Starborn initiation ritual. “For over five hundred years, initiation into The Order of Orion was completed the same way. However, recently some Elders have campaigned for a softer, kinder rite of passage.”
Willow didn’t need to breach Serena’s shield to know she didn’t favor the new way. Serena’s face showed pure contempt as she walked around the neophyte group. “As a neophyte, you’re in the infancy of your ability. Despite your training over the past two weeks, you remain weak and inconsistent. This is as it should be. The stars have given us a gift but it’s one that must be nurtured, cultivated. Every seven years, energy bursts occur from the direction of the Orion Nebula. If a fetus in that area also experiences trauma at the same time, this causes the predisposition of metaphysical ability. Trauma also triggered the onset of your Starborn ability.” Serena paused at the head of the table and spoke in a low, serious voice. “And trauma will make it stronger. The initiation rite can bring you more power than you can imagine.”
“Trauma will make us stronger?” Gabriel stared at Serena in disbelief. “You’re going to torture us?”
“What the fuck?” Isobel’s hands curled into fists. “What are you going to do to us?”
Serena held up her hands. “Hear me out.”
Willow tried to catch Lucas’ attention. He stood a little separated from the other mentors at the back of the room and stared straight ahead, not catching her glance, or perhaps refusing it. Granger, on the other hand, smiled and gave her a wink when their eyes met.
“We won’t torture you,” said Serena. “But the initiation rite will be traumatic to your bodies and your minds. It will push you to ascend to your highest ability. It is what all of us here in the Sanctuary have done.”
“Just tell us what’s involved,” Willow said, frustrated with the buildup Serena was providing.
Serena’s eyes narrowed. “Each of you will be placed in a room we call the cube. Your cube will be sized according to your height, high enough only for you to stand. You’ll not be given food or water. Your body will eventually go into a state of shock, which will allow you to access your true metaphysical self.”
The room fell dead quiet.
After a few moments, Gabriel leaned forward. “How long? How long do we have to go without food and water?”
“It will be your choice. The ancient way is three days of fasting.” Serena glanced at the mentors. “The new way is two.”
“Two days without water or food is supposed to be the easy way?” asked Isobel.
Serena snarled. “Yes! But since its introduction a few years ago, it has rarely brought the power three days can bring to a Starborn.”
Willow thought of the books and articles she had read about spiritual fasting as a way for shamans to reach a transcendent self. Various other religions also used fasting as a means of purification. Even Christianity. To put oneself through this cube sounded barbaric, but even more frightening to Willow was that she wasn’t ruling it out. She wanted to be strong enough to find Eve. And not to be at the mercy of other Starborn like Serena. She thought of the frustration of feeling abnormal in the ordinary world and she knew she didn’t want to be abnormal in the Starborn world either.
“I’ll do the traditional way,” she said, looking over at Lucas. He crossed his arms casually, but Willow could see his jaw was clenched tight. He wasn’t immune to the process then.
“Willow, no!” cried Paige.
At the same time, Gabriel spoke, “Me too, I want to follow the ancient tradition.”
All the neophytes stared at each other and began talking at once.
Serena smiled. “Make your decision quickly. You have only a few minutes before you leave for level seven and your cube.”
The room erupted into chaotic chatter as the neophytes cried out in fear and surprise. Emotion charged the room threatening to overwhelm Willow. She tried to pull up her shield but the feelings swirling around the room were too powerful.
“Please, give us more time,” she asked. To give them only a few minutes to decide on the degree of suffering to endure was beyond cruel.
“It is our way,” said Serena, her expression calm. “Too much time to think about it leads to a prolonged stress reaction which can lower your strength for the cube.”
“Are you serious?” shouted Isobel as she jumped to her feet, her bright blue hair swishing angrily against her red neophyte singlet. “You can’t expect us to make this decision so quickly.”
Serena answered, her voice heavy with mockery, “Your fearless doctor did. And this is despite her fear of small, enclosed spaces.”
Paige raised her tiny voice. “Willow, what do you think I should do? Three days sounds too long. I don’t think I can be brave like you.” Her wide brown eyes implored Willow to help.
One of the basic rules of therapy was to only support a patient in making decisions, never tell them what to do, even if they asked for your opinion. As she gazed into Paige’s frightened eyes and felt the sheer terror projected from her tiny form, Willow found herself breaking that cardinal rule. “It’s okay, Paige. You don’t have to do the three days.” She reached over and grabbed Paige’s hand across the table. “You don’t need to do three days if you don’t want to. You don’t need to do what I’m doing.”
Paige reluctantly nodded, her grip on Willow’s hand tightening.
Serena asked the others for their decision. “Isobel? Tyler?”
Isobel chose the three days, while Tyler decided on two.
“Very well, you’ve made your choices. A celestial ceremony will be held after the initiation rituals have all been completed. If the stars shine upon you as hoped, you’ll ascend fully to your ability and will become one of us. At this ceremony you’ll be required to demonstrate your ability in front of our Starborn brothers and sisters and then a celebration will be held in your honor.”
Serena gestured to the mentors who were watching them. “Your mentors will escort you to your cubes. They will be permitted one visit during your fast to help support your attempts at ascension.”
So, there were no guarantees. She wondered what would happen if someone’s ability didn’t ascend. Serena and the mentors led them through the corridors until they reached the elevator. Crowding in, they silently traveled down to the lowest level in the Sanctuary. Fear swirled within the small space and filled every pore of her body—the neophytes were terrified. She couldn’t block their emotions, couldn’t shield herself. The elevator doors slid open and white greeted them like old friends. Gabriel was the first to be escorted away down the corridor.
“Gabriel!” cried Paige as she tried to follow.
“No, not yet.” Gabriel tried to break free from his mentor.
He was quickly overpowered and they lost sight of him as he was forced into an open doorway. The rest of neophytes rushed forward but were held back by Serena and the other mentors.
Willow held onto a trembling Paige. “This is ridiculous. Can’t we have a few minutes to say goodbye?”
“No,” said Serena. “It’s time.” She motioned to the mentors. “Take them to their cubes.”
Willow’s heart pounded with the fear—the fear of the other neophytes mixing with her own. The group reluctantly separated and Willow followed Lucas to her cube—her would-be prison for three long days. She entered the tiny room and emptiness closed around Willow. There were no windows and no furniture. Just an empty white space.
Her head grazed the ceiling and when she stretched out her arms she nearly touched both walls. Pure terror pounded through Willow’s system. Despite its small size, it was like stepping into a never ending void. Lucas stood at the door, blocking her only exit. She wanted to call out that there must be some mistake, to ask him not to leave, or to tak
e her away—anything but spend three days in this tiny room. But instead, she tried to be strong.
“See you later,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.
His green eyes stared into hers for what seemed like an eternity before he slowly lifted his hand and gently cupped her cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you.” He rubbed his thumb against her skin and she leaned into it.
And then he was gone. The door clicked shut and panic welled up again. Pacing around the tiny room, she ran her palm over the walls. Cold and smooth to touch, she guessed she should be glad there were no fingernail scratches marking the surface because it felt a lot like a coffin. A square shaped white coffin. She searched the room for cameras, finding nothing to indicate a video or security system. There weren’t any mirrors like in the audit room, only blank white walls. After what she imagined to be an hour, she sat in a corner opposite the door, letting her body lean back against the cold wall. Silence pressed in against her and she tried to slow her breathing to calm herself, with only marginal results. It was not like she’d expected it to be easy, but now faced with the reality of three days in this type of isolation, she worried it was beyond what she could bear. Worried it was beyond what the others could tolerate in their cubes. Especially for Isobel, who had spent a significant amount of time in the much hated isolation room at Queensgate for disruptive and aggressive behavior. Willow had been surprised when Isobel chose the traditional initiation over the modern one. The lure of developing greater power of one’s ability had driven Willow to her choice and she guessed it was the same for Isobel, as well as Gabriel.
Over the next few hours she thought of her new friends and her time spent at Queensgate. She’d only been there for a short time but it had been a wonderful job, the perfect mix of clinical therapy and research. Now she imagined her career was over. Would she be able to return to a professional job after all this? After the death of Mark at the hospital and the staff that had been killed? What did the authorities think had happened to her and the others? Her heart contracted painfully and she looped her arms around her knees to hug herself. The bright red of her pants suddenly reminding her of Mark’s blood. What little grip she had on her control evaporated.
Jumping up she banged on the door. “Lucas? How is everyone going? Serena? Granger? Someone tell me how everyone is doing, please.”
And so began her intermittent assault on the door. Every hour or so, she would stand and go over to the door, call out and then hammer on the door. Her fists and throat soon hurt. She knew it was a useless exercise, but fear drove her, not logic. Finally, she slumped against the corner again, the heavy silence was broken only by her labored breathing.
Hours later, when her stomach growled with hunger, she guessed it was dinner time. Another body signal was also plaguing her. The need to pee. It had been building for the last hour, and now the pain in her bladder was unbearable. Surely they couldn’t expect her to relieve herself in the cube? She hung her head in pure mortification as she thought of how she was going to manage. Debasement hadn’t been discussed when Serena had explained their initiation.
She stood and again banged on the door. Thumped it hard with the flat of her palms, over and over again. “Hey,” she shouted, her voice dry and hoarse. “Hey, you Starborn fuckers, I need to pee! Let me out of here.”
Immediately a click sounded near her feet. A panel near the base of the door had opened. She swore again as a bedpan was thrust near her feet. Quickly she dropped to the floor to try and look out the mailbox size opening, but the panel slammed shut with a snap. Running her fingers over it, she tried to open it but it refused to budge. She turned to look at the silver bedpan that sat a few inches from her nose. The urge to pee soon overtook her embarrassment. Degradation filled her as she looked at the yellow liquid in the shiny bowl and smelt its pungent odor. She banged on the mailbox opening, simultaneously wanting to get rid of it, but not wanting another to witness her embarrassment. The panel slid open and she slid the bedpan back through, too mortified to yell or say anything. Hoping to God it wasn’t Lucas. She groaned aloud at the humiliation. She tried to reassure herself that other Starborn must have gone through the same process, but rather than give her comfort, she railed at The Order’s ridiculous codes and practices. Even though the harsh fluorescents didn’t change in the light they offered, eventually her body told her it was time for sleep. The hard floor made for an uncomfortable bed, and she tossed and turned before drifting off. Her dreams were full of memories of Queensgate, the Sanctuary and the gentle touch Lucas had offered to her cheek.
22
Lucas
For the last twenty-four hours Lucas had been in hell. Hearing Willow’s animalistic cries had disturbed him much more than he’d expected. He was considering doing things he shouldn’t. Like calling out to her and reassuring her everything would be okay. Like accessing her memories, plunging in without her consent, and implanting memories in her mind to help her cope as though she was a simple ordinary to be manipulated. He leaned against the corridor wall and rested his forehead. He’d sent the guard away with Willow’s bedpan and told him not to return. He would be the one to guard her.
“Well, well, what have we here?” He stiffened at Serena’s smooth, silky voice and slowly turned around.
Serena was the last person he wanted around, especially with how he was feeling. “Go play your games with someone else.”
“And what would be the fun in that?” When he didn’t answer, she added, “How’s she doing?”
He clenched his fists, trying to sound neutral. “As expected.”
Serena stepped in close and tapped his chest. “Did you wait around my door when I was in the cube?” She used a playful tone, but it was edged with seriousness.
“No.” He hadn’t and that was part of the trouble, part of the reason he felt so off-kilter. Willow affected him like no other.
Serena nodded a few times, her lips pressed tightly together. “I thought as much. Thanks for your honesty, Lucas. It’s always been one of your charms.” She gave a self-deprecating smile and walked off down the corridor. Her petite frame so different from Willow’s tall, athletic build.
Serena had been a mess when she was brought to the Sanctuary. A strung out junkie, who on arrival had needed two weeks in detox at the Sanctuary medical center. He’d only been twenty-three. The same age as her, but he’d been with The Order for six years. The Council had assigned him to mentor Serena as a test of his suitability and perhaps a love match. He’d failed miserably at both. To most, Serena had appeared tough and full of bravado during the induction process, but she’d reminded him of himself when he’d arrived as an angry and traumatized teen. Her hidden vulnerability had drawn him in and after her initiation, they’d become lovers for a short time. Their affair, hot and intense at first, quickly fractured by tensions that grew between them—her insistence he keep his shield down with her at all times, her rise in power in The Order’s ranks, and his reluctance to follow in her footsteps, preferring a nondescript military role. She had been angry and hurt when he’d ended it. The break up had been awkward and he could have handled it with more finesse, but he’d been young. Eight years had passed, but she still occasionally liked to tease him about his nonexistent love life. The arrival of Willow though, seemed to have antagonized her.
He knew how she felt. The arrival of Willow into his world had left him feeling antagonized, aroused, disorientated.
And now he stood here, unable to leave, unwilling to be more than a few feet from her side.
23
Willow
Willow woke with a dry throat. She blinked against the harsh light and stretched her aching muscles. Had she made it through the first twenty-four hour mark? They certainly hadn’t been her finest hours. If her body was to survive, if her mind was to survive, and maybe even her soul, she needed to approach the next seventy-two hours differently. More rationally. She was a psychologist for God’s sake. Surely getting shoved in an isolation chamber
, and starved until she reached some sort of nirvana, was the time her professional skills should come in handy.
She took a deep breath and focused.
Firstly, her body. She needed to start some sort of stretching regimen to prevent the cramps that would inevitably come if she remained immobile.
Next, her mind. She needed to keep it occupied.
And lastly, her soul. She had no idea. A little voice in her head whispered Lucas, but she shoved it away.
She would start with her physical condition. Coward, the little voice whispered.
Her usual defense class warm up; stretches, sit-ups, push-ups, and squats were all doable in here. In her mind, she mapped out a possible routine. But as she thought of filling the hours, the minutes and the seconds, she had an overwhelming urge to cry. The next forty-eight hours stretched like infinity. She allowed herself to feel the fear rather than reject it. Slowly, she took a few deep breaths and forced herself to stand. Fearful of pushing her body too far without food or water, she spent the next hour putting her body through gentle stretches and other light exercises. Afterward she lay down and rested, and looking up into the harsh fluorescents, concentrated on staying in the moment.
Time slowed down to one heartbeat at a time.
She searched her mind for something to concentrate on. Something logical.
“Delusional disorder. A psychotic disorder involving non-bizarre delusions of thinking, such as being poisoned, stalked, being loved or deceived,” she said out loud. Her voice sounding unnatural in the cube. “Symptoms must occur for more than a month and not be due to drugs, another disorder, or medical illness. Erotomanic type. Jealous type. Persecutory type. Somatic type. Mixed type. Unspecified type.”
Starborn (The Order of Orion Book 1) Page 15
