Rageborn by Simon Shugar

Author:Simon Shugar [Shugar, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-08-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18 - Into the Forge

That first night in the barracks, the same night of the trial, I struggled to sleep. The thin mattress offered little comfort, and the low murmur of the other wards filled the dimly lit room. I lay in my bunk, feeling more alone than I had since my first night at the Fayle manor.

I hadn't realised how much Banar, Elara, and especially Serah had come to mean to me. The thought of them made me solemn, yet it was the guilt that creeped in when I thought about my mother and sister, Liv that haunted my dreams. Now, separated from everyone, I felt a void I hadn’t anticipated.

Good, a voice growled in my mind, low and feral. She is strong. And you? You are weak. You cling to her strength like a crutch. Pathetic. You lean on her too much. Find your own strength or be swallowed by your weakness.

“Who are you?” I demanded into the dreamscape, the void where my consciousness wandered. The darkness around me seemed to pulse, heavy with unseen presence.

I am Nix, the voice replied, dripping with malice. I caught a vivid image of a crimson wolf, its eyes gleamed with a sinister intelligence, fangs bared in a menacing grin. The image lingered, haunting and powerful, as I stood in the void, grappling with the fear and determination that warred within me.

I woke with a start, sweat on my brow. The darkness still clung to the room, the sun hadn’t even begun its ascent. Boys around me were groggily getting off their bunks, rubbing their eyes and pulling on clothes. I did the same, tugging on the worn clothes I had travelled in, and stepped outside into the dark morning.

The chill hit me immediately, the remnants of the previous day’s rain still evident in the puddles scattered across the courtyard. At least it wasn’t raining today, I thought, taking a deep breath of the crisp air.

Boys from the other barracks began to emerge, their figures silhouetted against the faint glow of the courtyard lamps. They were led by older boys, clearly more experienced. I recognized Keird at the front of his group, his voice carried over the hushed murmurs of the morning assembly.

I followed the stream of boys into the courtyard, the squelch of our boots in the wet ground the only sound breaking the quiet. My pace quickened as I caught up to Keird. "What’s going on?" I asked, my voice low but urgent.

He glanced at me, momentarily confused, then recognition lit his eyes. "Oh, you’re the boy from yesterday. Where’s your mocks? Didn’t you pick a set up from the quartermaster?"

I looked around, noticing most of the boys were already dressed in The Forge's uniform: dark tunics with silver trim, sturdy trousers, and boots built for endurance. Each uniform bore the insignia of The Forge, a crossed hammer and anvil.

"No matter," Keird continued, shaking his head. "Do so after the ceremony before the Masters catch you. This is initiation. The Masters will talk to the new recruits—split you into squads and put you on the docket.

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