by Mari Dietz
A frozen vein of pain lanced through Vic’s chest. He needed something, and he didn’t have time to mess around. “Are you saying I won’t see her again unless I give up being a reaper and take over as the heir?”
Time with her sister was limited already. She didn’t want to believe her father would take away her last days with her.
“And we have a matchmaking meeting.”
Vic blinked. “Dang, you’ve been busy. Also, you don’t have the right to keep me away from her. We both know it’s only a matter of time before either of us sees her again.” Her throat tightened.
If she could trade her powers for anyone, it would be her sister. Only imbs could become vitals. Vic was a reaper, and her sister was an imb.
Her father stepped closer, and his eyes glowed as they looked down at her. “You have no rights. You left your family, Victoria. You left Emilia, the same as you left your mother and me. Do you think we don’t know about your little visits? Those will end. Now.”
Her insides burned. The idea of leaving her sister pained her. At the moment, she could sneak out to see her every so often. Now he threatened to take that away. “This will hurt Em too. Do you really want to take away any joy she has in her last days of freedom?”
He smirked. “She’s used to her disappointment of a sister and understands the duty of being born into the privileged life of a founder and the honor of being chosen as a vital. What you’ve been given is a gift, and she will keep the whole city safe.”
“And I’m not?”
Her father didn’t answer.
“If I give up my position as heir to collect blight, won’t I be helping Verrin?” In that way, her sister wouldn’t need to be ashamed of her anymore. Reapers were heroes in their own right. Maybe not as revered as the mysterious vitals in Haven but still regarded with respect.
He didn’t deny it.
“You chose to let her go, and you don’t want to lose me too.” As the words left her mouth, she knew she was being unfair. These past months had been a harsh reality check. As younger girls, they’d ignored the fact that Em would be the vital and Vic would be the heir. Their father had changed as the date for the vital ceremony approached. He’d become harsh, and Vic had become angry. Neither of them was handling the pending loss of Emilia very well. Their relationship had become a battle of who could hurt the other more. Vic no longer recognized the man she’d once loved as her father, and he probably could say the same about her.
“What did you expect? You nearly ruined our family by being born a reaper. I thank magic I had another daughter to give to Haven.” His cool green eyes pierced her. “You should consider yourself lucky to have a sister to sacrifice in your place. Otherwise, you never would have gotten these six months of rebellion. Come back and all will be well.”
Vic bit the insides of her cheeks and let the twinge of pain calm her down. His words cut through her, but she schooled her face to remain impassive. He knew Vic would trade places with Emilia if she could. She didn’t want her sister to go away, even though it was an honor. Call Vic silly, but she wanted her sister to keep living and creating her glass art. Her heart told her Emilia deserved to be so much more than a vital. The vitals were heroes. But could they be heroes if the choice had been forced on them?
“Yes, so lucky that you have these humans to sell off.” She clapped her hands slowly. He knew no one could control whether they were born a reaper or an imb, yet he blamed her. “Congratulations on your sperm donation.”
He smoothed back his already perfectly styled hair. “I guess you have another choice to make, Victoria.”
“Right, you will keep my sister from me if I don’t become the heir or meet with my future husband. Choose one, Father. At least give me a piece of fake freedom.”
He studied her. “I’ll introduce you later.” He bowed slightly. “I’ll enjoy the show.” With only a scuff of his shoes against the gravel, he walked along the shaded overhang.
Vic leaned against the cool stone wall. She should have known there wouldn’t be any freedom from that man. She reached for her harness and pulled out her scythe. The relic burned with magic. She unfolded her scythe and held it to her body. The magic warmed her, giving her comfort. If she gave in to this marriage meeting, she’d have a better chance of seeing Em. She could be the heir and a reaper, but staying in the Glass house represented everything she hated about Verrin. Her father was so adamant she couldn’t do both. Soon, he would have no choice.
It had started out as small changes in her father. First, he’d spend longer hours in his office. Then he would be out, sometimes all night, at what he’d say were meetings. When he’d pushed the GicCorp founders’ son, Tristan, on Vic, she’d balked. Over the last year, they’d battled over Vic marrying Tristan. Vic had won, and the GicCorp founders had withdrawn their proposal for her to marry Tristan, the heir. After that night, her father had told them that Emilia’s vital ceremony would happen this year. Vitals went to Haven after their twentieth birthday, but they could stay in Verrin until they were twenty-five. Emilia, only twenty-two, could spend more time with her family. He was taking away three years. Vic had accused him of punishing Emilia because she wouldn’t marry Tristan. Part of her feared that this was also retaliation from GicCorp for her refusal. Too scared of the answer, she’d never asked.
Vic had wondered if she only hated Haven because of her father sending Emilia there so soon. But then, as she got older, she’d realized she didn’t really understand Haven. She didn’t want her sister to go somewhere with so many unknowns. It didn’t make sense. But GicCorp ran the city, providing them with gicorbs and purified magic from Haven. Questioning them might be dangerous for Verrin. The people were in a position where GicCorp could cut them off from power, charging, and orbs. Founders should have had equal power and say with GicCorp, but before Vic’s time, there must have been a shift in power.
A loud creak and the scraping of stone on wood jarred her attention to the doorway. It opened on its own. The other side now looked like a long hallway instead of an open arena.
A voice sounded over the walls. “Enter.”
Vic stepped over the threshold, her stomach twisting, and the gate shut behind her. Only a dim light shone from the arena ceiling, casting the new walls in thick shadows.
“The maze contains a mog that has been grown for over a year,” Xiona said. “One relic cannot drain it. Inside it, you will find a clear stone. If you want to win this round, you must claim the stone.” Xiona cleared her throat. “We have reapers on standby to get you out should you get injured or reach the limit of your gicgauge and want to withdraw. There is some danger, and we can’t promise you will come out alive. If you no longer want to participate, raise your scythe now and you’ll be let out.”
Vic listened but didn’t hear any doors opening. They needed to work together, but there could only be one winner. Nothing like pitting them against each other in round one, then having them work together in round three. Maybe reapers needed to learn forgiveness.
“Ready, reapers.”
A loud but slow clack clack clack rose from somewhere in the maze. She gripped her scythe.
“It’s loose. Go.”
A raspy howl filled her ears, and she didn’t know if she wanted to head in that direction. No scuffing sounds, only her breathing and the lone howl that continued until it dropped off in a final note.
Vic rolled her shoulders and set off at a jog. The settling dust tickled her nose and made her want to sneeze. Right now, she could only go forward. She didn’t know if she preferred the sound of the mog or the isolated sounds of her heartbeat mixed with the thuds of her feet.
The path ahead forked. A shriek shattered the silence. Then nothing. Vic swallowed. First, she needed to find other reapers. She didn’t need the stone; without each other, they would die. She didn’t want to assume, but ranking high in the previous two trials should win her a spot in an Order. If it wasn’t Nyx, another Order would still be support away from her family.
As if summoned by her thoughts, Yaris skidded into view. He jumped at her sudden appearance.
“Ah, it’s the smart one.” He grinned.
Vic held up her hands. “We can’t survive this unless we all drain it.”
“Yes, but don’t you think the top two should separate? Our scores are the closest.” He twirled his scythe in his hands.
“Won’t matter if we’re dead. You can have the stone.”
He paused his overly fancy movements with his relic. “You don’t want to get into Nyx?”
“Yes, but there is no one else to work with at the moment.” As much as he gave her a bad feeling, he was a good fighter. Surviving mattered more than winning.
Vic knew he didn’t trust her. She didn’t trust him either, but when she picked the next fork to run down, he stayed next to her.
He snorted as he ran. “Don’t think I’m a fool to trust you.”
“Back at you.”
As they ran through the maze, they didn’t see anyone else. “We might not even find the mog.”
A shout sounded to their right. Vic couldn’t make out what they’d said.
“Are they crying for help?” he asked.
“Could be.” It was hard to hear anything with the thick stone walls. Only echoes came over the top of the maze.
At the next fork, they picked the right, but after a while, they came across more and more forks. Everything was the same.
She sighed. “We’re running in circles.”
“Most likely. Whoever needed help, it’s too late now.” Yaris was unfazed by the thought of others getting hurt.
Two other reapers ran out of the dim light, startling them.
“Thank magic we found you!” the thin man gasped.
The other man glanced over his shoulder. “We don’t know if we lost it or not, but with four of us … maybe we’ll stand a chance.”
Yaris stepped closer. “You saw it?”
The thin man bobbed his head. “Unfortunately. It can climb over walls and pick us off like snacks.”
Vic turned to Yaris. “Should we find a place to make a stand or keep running?”
Yaris glanced up. “If it comes from above, we can’t guard our backs. The best we can do is find a more open space. With too many people, we’ll get in each other’s way, unless we can flank it.”
“Flank it,” Vic muttered. “We can stand on opposite ends of a pathway, and if it drops in the middle and faces one team, the others can come around from behind.”
Yaris glanced at the two men. “Yes, as long as they come.”
The thin man puffed out his chest. “I’m here to fight, but I’m not stupid. Two people against an old mog isn’t enough.” He nudged the silent man, who nodded.
“We should split up,” Yaris whispered to Vic, “and each take one of them. I think I trust you more than them.”
“They won’t go for that,” Vic replied. These two men had formed a partnership like her and Yaris. They would trust each other more. “Let’s keep moving until we find a spot we all like.”
They took a path away from where the others said they’d lost the mog. Their pathway widened.
“This is the best place to make a stand,” Yaris said. “We can still see each other, but we won’t be in each other’s way. If you see anyone run by, ask if they’ll join us. Go down to the end of the path.”
The two men ran off, and Vic could still see their outlines in the dark maze.
“Now we wait.” Vic stood with her back to the wall and faced Yaris, who also had his back to the wall. This way, they could watch the wall above each other in case the mog showed up above them.
A rhythmic thud started to their left, and it sounded like scales scraping on stone. Two large hands grasped the edge of the wall on Vic’s side. Foot-long fingers bent over the top of the wall. Sharp claws tipped each finger and dripped blood.
“Ready,” Vic said.
She heard the rush of feet as they all ran in to surround the area before the mog dropped over. Then its maw cleared the top of the wall. Elongated teeth overlapped its jaw so that it couldn’t close its mouth completely. Any of those teeth could spear them through their body. Vic imagined herself dangling from its tooth like a sad piece of leftover food.
She swallowed as the large creature climbed over the wall. The scraping sound of its scales made her ears twitch. The fingers and head dwarfed them, and its arms and legs were too short for its frame. Thick scales covered the mog. It landed on its massive feet with a loud thunk. She wished for another slimy mog. These scales would be a pain to penetrate. The smell of the mog’s rotting flesh filled the air.
It turned, smacking its large maw as it took in the four reapers.
“Go!” Yaris darted forward, Vic close on his heels. Thankfully, the other two also came toward the mog.
The mog slashed at them with its long fingers. Vic searched for a piece of exposed flesh to thrust her blade into. Yaris attempted to breach its scales, but his scythe bounced off, and he almost lost his grip.
“Flesh flesh flesh,” Vic muttered. The only flesh was on its head. “Perfect. The head! Hit it there!” Vic ran to the front of the mog. “Hey! Hey!” She clicked her tongue and yelled until it looked at her. She gripped her scythe and swung at its fingers. Yaris and the thin man flanked it, aiming for the flesh of its head. They could drain more blight if they hit it at the same time.
She paced in front of it, keeping its focus on her. Its claws were its primary weapons. She skidded on the gravel as it swiped at her middle. Between the maze walls, there wasn’t much room to maneuver. It lunged at Vic, all its fingers aimed at her, leaving an opening for the men. They struck its head with their blades.
The mog howled, and as it tried to turn around, the men stayed with it to keep their blades connected with its flesh. Their scythes glowed with energy. Then the mog gave up searching for them and lunged for Vic again. Light on her feet, she danced back and slammed against the wall.
The air left her lungs, and the long fingers slashed at her. Vic had no choice but to drop to the ground. The claws caught her down her side, and a burning sensation bloomed from her head to her waist. She gasped and rolled out of the way.
“Hit it again!” Yaris ordered.
The low howl told her they’d been successful, and she squeezed out from under the creature. It rambled at the men, Yaris distracting it, and Vic pushed the point of her scythe into the back of its neck. Magic burned in her relic and flowed through it, filling her gicgauge to the brim before the mog thrashed out its arms, dislodging the blade from its neck.
The thing had slowed down but was still intact.
“I’m almost full,” Vic shouted.
“Same,” Yaris answered.
The silent man limped forward, his leg damp with blood. He nodded to them, and they dove in, screaming at the mog to get its attention.
Vic, Yaris, and the thin man clanged their scythes against the mog’s scales. The thin man tripped as the mog slammed its fingers against his relic. It threw them aside, and they landed in a pile. Before the mog could hit them, the silent partner struck it in the neck and his relic flared. The mog fell back, close to crushing the man. Globs of rotted flesh fell from its frame.
“This is it. We need to use whatever we have left.” Vic pushed herself up from the pile, and they all surrounded the mog, stabbing its fleshy head.
The mog flailed erratically, making it harder to avoid its long fingers. Vic’s vision blurred. She’d lost too much blood.
When it swung at Yaris, she dove in and connected her blade with its flesh. A final flash. The gicgauge was full. The scales dripped off the mog, and the thin man dashed forward, his shoulders squared, but he didn’t notice the mog’s still-grasping fingers.
“Wait!” Vic tried to block the sharp claws with her scythe, but she was too late. The fingers speared the man, the scales coated in his blood. The silent man came up and stabbed the mog with a final burst. The mog disintegrated.
In the mess of fleshy scales, Vic spotted a gleaming stone. She kicked it to Yaris. He heard the thunk and glanced at her, eyebrows raised. Vic rushed to the thin man to help plug his bleeding wounds. She’d considered grabbing the stone, but the commanders were watching. The stone meant nothing if this lesson was about teamwork. The trials might be straightforward:
1. Can you fight?
2. Can you tell the truth?
3. Can you work as a team?
In her gut, she felt that many overthought the trials. Kai had mentioned that reapers had each other’s backs. Vic had given her word to Yaris that he could have the stone, and it was more important to keep her word than win.
Vic called out to reapers with a blue healer armband. “Over here!”
The thin man still took in breaths, but they were shallow.
A distant clang sounded, and the maze walls lowered into the ground. A group of reapers dashed forward to carry out the thin man. Another reaper with a blue armband came up to her and wrapped up her long cut.
Vic’s hair framed her face in a sweaty mess. She pushed it back and twisted it into a makeshift knot. She’d put her name in the application for Orders without her surname, but the distinctive Glass hair could be seen for miles. It wasn’t like they were the only redheads in Verrin.
“These bandages should hold until after the announcement of invitations.” The reaper went to help others.
Vic walked to the overhang of the arena. She was surprised they hadn’t called in imb healers. Some reapers trained in battle healing, but they couldn’t make imbued bandages, only buy them, so maybe they wanted to make it more realistic to life in an Order. Only a handful of freelance reapers remained. Yaris clutched the stone, his gaze on the leader of Nyx.
Xiona stood, and she scanned the remaining reapers. “This is the final part of the trial. Everyone who took part in the maze will be granted a spot.” Xiona’s gaze flicked to the Dei commander. “You will now decide if you accept. Maybe becoming a reaper in an Order is something you no longer desire. The battle you faced today is nothing compared to the growing number of mogs in the city or those trying to come in over the walls.” The great breach, when mogs had broken through a weakened part of the wall, had happened recently. “Think carefully. Once you’re branded, you belong to that Order, and there’s no leaving to join another.”
