The dawn is a pale, watery thing, barely more than a thinning of the dark. Cold gnaws at my bones as I trudge north, boots crunching in frostbitten grass, the ground rigid beneath each step. A thin snow begins to fall just a few lazy flakes at first, twisting and spinning down from a sky the color of old slate. One lands in my eye, lting instantly, and I blink the sting away, fighting the urge to curse aloud. The wind is sharp and insistent, biting through my clothes and skin, carrying the scent of depression and the promise of misery.
Everyone in House Apophis had introduced themselves last night, so with pride, so with a mumbled reluctance, others with a practiced indifference that I can't quite decide is real or a mask like mine. I rember the parade of nas and powers: the strong, the subtle, the strange. So of the marks seed almost... mundane. One boy could talk to insects I already forget his na and even the boy Niko with his iron hid mark seems normal. I found myself frowning, trying to fit the pieces together. Why had the proctors put them here, among those they think could be spellbreakers? Are spell breakers like Cain not the Elite of the Elite, warriors so strong and deadly just referring to them as Awakened was insulting to their prowess? Was I missing sothing? Or was it all part of so larger ga, a calculus only the proctors themselves understood?
I force myself to let it go. The logic of the Academy is never what it seems on the surface and I sadly have more pressing matters.
As the snow starts to co down I sigh and adjust my robe and think back to when we all woke up. We wasted no ti once the first gray light filtered through the vent at the top of our earthen igloo. There was no real debate no one wanted to stick around and see if the proctors had left a second act of cruelty waiting for stragglers. Bragg unsealed the entrance, letting a fresh blast of cold air rip through the warm, smoky interior. I was at the front, already impatient, my mind half a league ahead of my body. Survival ant motion. Survival ant getting ahead of the masses, putting distance between us and any trouble the other houses might bring.
When we erged, I took quick stock of the camp. The field was a ss, to the left of where we stayed, a massive hole had been dug, with a wall of rocks piled up to block the worst of the wind which was clever I suppose, till the snow started. Farther out, I saw a scatter of small wooden huts, their roofs patched with turf and pine boughs. Clearly, the other houses had managed to get themselves out of the wind and snow.
A small part of was driven to once again look for Howard. I scanned the faces, searching for a glimpse of that familiar, open grin, the quick wave of a hand. But the mory of our last eting his mind shattering under the weight of my illusions, his body limp and unresponsive curls like a snake in my gut. So I let it go once again, shoving the need down deep, where it can't distract .
After a brief, muttered conversation with the others, House Apophis peels away from the rest. No elaborate goodbyes, no second glances. We slip into the wild, leaving the makeshift camp behind, striking out toward the mountains due north. The line of peaks is a jagged silhouette on the horizon, impossibly far, impossibly high, and the snow is already thickening as we walk.
We've made about three miles, maybe more, by my estimate. I keep to the front, step for step with Lucian, Elijah, and Joon-ha. Joon-ha; the emotionalist walks with a steady, silent confidence, his eyes dark enough to seem black, his features unreadable. He's a cipher, every movent precise and deliberate. Elijah is beside , hands tucked into his sleeves, breath steaming in the frigid air. He keeps up a steady stream of quiet comntary, half-jokes, half-observations, but even he is subdued by the cold and the task ahead.
Behind us, a little to the left, Zaria and Vihaan have fallen into step with each other. Their heads are close together, voices low, almost conspiratorial. I strain my hearing to catch their words stretching my Awakened hearing to the max but the wind steals their voices, snatching them away before they reach . It's infuriating. My hearing is better than any normal human's, tuned to the smallest shift in tone, the faintest crackle of brush underfoot, but even I can't fight the mountain wind.
I seethe, jaw clenched, boots pounding a little harder into the snow. I don't trust anyone here—why would I?—but Zaria least of all. She to suspicious, too knowing, and I'm almost certain she recognizes my na, if not my face. I catch her watching sotis, her expression inscrutable. She's the sort who collects secrets, and I suspect she's already started a ledger in her mind.
Vihaan is no better. His power is brutal, and there's a coldness to him I don't like. He reminds to much of and I recognize that I'm a borderline sociopath. He's polite, and hasn't done anything to draw my distrust really, but it takes a monster to recognize one. The snow is falling heavier now, to the point we may need to stop and wait it out, these fucking proctors really dropped as in the middle of nowhere in the deepest part of Avraels winter. Lucian walks beside in silence, his face set in a mask of indifference as if the cold does not bother him at all. I wonder what he's thinking.
Elijah nudges , breaking my reverie. "Having fun?"
I snort, the sound muffled by the scarf wrapped around my mouth. "Not even a little."
He grins, teeth flashing white, and shakes his head. "Didn't think so."
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