Chapter 50

Scorio came to atop the jeweled bier, and for a long, aching moment he didn’t know where he was, what had happened, and why he was staring up at the sun-sluiced interior of a vast dome. Words and voices of other awakening people washed over him like surf washing up the beach, then a hand gripped his shoulder, shook him, and he blinked, turned his head to see Leonis’s astonished face.

“What was that? I thought you were done for, and then you just went crazy on him—”

Lianshi was there, on his other side, trying to smile, to hide her alarm. “Are you all right, Scorio?”

“He’s not all right.” Naomi stepped in beside Leonis and placed her hand on his brow. “That victory came at a cost.”

“Cost?” Leonis frowned at her.

With a groan, Scorio sat up. Across the basilica’s floor, students were clustering, either congratulating victors or consoling those who had lost. The guests and House elites were also gathering, looking animated as they conferred. “I’m not sure what happened. I just… I couldn’t afford to lose.”

Naomi’s scowl was familiar, almost comforting. It meant he’d acted like himself, annoyed her through some means of achieving the impossible that nobody in their right mind would have considered. “Well, it’s not like anybody ever warned you to not burn your Heart like that before. So of course it was a completely innocent mistake.”

“Burned his Heart?” Lianshi’s eyes went wide. “Scorio!”

“Summon it,” said Naomi. “Go on. See what you did.”

Matching Naomi’s frown, Scorio called his Heart into being, and saw that indeed it was diminished; the angular shoulder on the upper left looked sanded down, worn and smoothed. Not nearly as much damage as he’d feared, but a clear change.

He placed his hand to his chest, inhaled deeply, focused on himself. Was he different? Did he no longer care about the same things?

No—he felt an upwelling of concern and love for his friends, the same determination to succeed at all costs, the low-lying bitterness, rage, and resentment over how he and Naomi had been treated. Had he lost anything? The only emotion that came to his attention was a cold acceptance of the damage he’d done for himself. He knew without a doubt that if placed in the same situation again, he’d make the exact same decision. If advancement came at the expense of his soul, then right now that was a fair exchange.

“No, you’re not a monster yet,” snapped Naomi. “But keep it up, keep borrowing power from yourself in your time of need, and you’ll become one soon enough.”

“Easy,” said Leonis. “So he borrowed a little of his strength so that he could heal his Heart. It’s a rough deal, but one he stands to benefit from in the long run.”

“That’s what everyone always says, at first,” said Naomi, and turned away.

“That was brutal,” said Leonis, squeezing Scorio’s shoulder again. “At first you both seemed evenly matched, though it was hard to make you out. We were placed pretty far away from your circle—”

“Students!” The chancellor’s voice rang out, quelling the conversations. Praximar had regained the stage, and stood with arms outraised, his expression beaming, proud. “What heroism and valor we just witnessed! To those who fought bravely and lost, know that to a student you did well, and none here think any less of you for having fallen out of the tournament. To those of you who persisted and won, congratulations! You shall pass into the eighth round, where the winner’s bracket will winnow their number down to thirty-two, sending another thirty-two contestants into your own category. You have two Eighthdays in which to prepare for your next bout, so use that time wisely.”

Murmurs arose. It was clear which Great Souls had won, for they tended to sit taller, be surrounded by beaming friends, while those who had lost were talking, explaining, or complaining, or simply looking downcast.

“Now, you have until First Bronze to report to your classes, so make use of this free time as you wish. Those with House sponsorships might wish to confer with their patrons, but everyone else is at liberty to relax and enjoy this rare break until the cycle changes.” Praximar lowered his arms. “Congratulations once more to our winners, and may you all learn from their example!”

Scorio took a shaky breath. “How does the sponsorship system actually work? Do I approach the Houses, do they have offices in the Academy where I can go petition, or…?”

“Look sharp,” said Leonis, voice low. “Looks like your question’s about to be answered.”

Three people in rich, green robes were making their way through the glowing blue light between the biers towards their little group, their intent obvious, their eyes trained on Scorio. The leader was a stern, handsome woman in her thirties, her skin dusky, a sprinkling of birthmarks rising alongside her left cheek. A striking man in his twenties flanked her on the left, olive-skinned and with stubble on the verge of becoming a tightly curled beard, his hair trimmed and cut short, everything about him purposeful and neat and sharp. On her right walked another man, leonine and bemused, hair like pale gold, apologizing quietly to everyone he stepped by as he went.

“House Chimera,” murmured Lianshi, stepping back. “They’re my favorite.”

And indeed, each wore a badge over their hearts depicting the lion and goat-headed monster with a snake for a tail.

“Cinder Scorio?” Their leader stopped before them, her hands on her hips, her manner direct, forthright. “I’m Principal Recruiter Selena, Dread Blaze, and member of House Chimera. This is Recruiter Wrack,” and she indicated the well-kept man to her left, “and Recruiter Gelegos.”

Both men nodded but remained quiet.

“Hello,” said Scorio, wondering if he should slide off the bier or remain seated.

“You fought well,” said Selena, her gaze traveling over him. “We’d like a chance to speak with you in private. If you’re not busy, I’d appreciate your following us to our offices.”

“Sure,” said Scorio, wondering if they could hear his heart pounding. “I’m not busy. Now?”

“Now,” said Selena, amusement glimmering in her eyes. “If you’ll follow me?”

Lianshi made a subtle, shooing motion when he glanced at her, and he smiled and slipped off the bier at last. “Lead the way, Principal Recruiter.”

The three House Chimera members began to pick their way through the biers toward the great doors. Leonis gave him an encouraging wink, while Naomi just looked… conflicted.

Straightening his robes, he cinched his sash tight and hurried after the recruiters. His passage drew stares, a few respectful nods, but mostly careful scrutiny.

No matter. He wasn’t here to make friends. Scorio stared straight ahead, schooled his features, and followed the trio out into the Aureate Hall.

Selena glanced back at him as she slowed upon entering the imposing hallway. “Scorio, how are you finding life here at the Academy? You’ve only recently returned, have you not?”

“Right, just a couple of Eighthdays now, though the first was spent out in Bastion helping deal with damage Imperator Imogen caused.”

Selena nodded, encouraging, and so he began to describe his experiences thus far, the classes, the training, the morning runs. Selena proved adroit at keeping him talking, asking questions that led to his sharing ever more of his opinions, though he was careful to not say anything that could be seen as too controversial; simply stated his preferences, some of the questions that had occurred to him, and outlined his hopes.

They crossed the Academy to a wing he’d not entered yet, climbed a few floors, and emerged into a large, open-plan chamber divided by cunning partitions, painted screens, and large, potted plants into various subsections.

“This is House Chimera’s space within the Academy,” said Selena as she led the way. “We encourage all of our sponsored students to think of it as a communal space, and to visit whenever they have the inclination.”

Scorio nodded, looking around with wide eyes as he took in the resources on display. There were countless nooks and secluded spots formed by the plants and screens, each with its own collection of cushions, benches, or reclining chairs. Here and there were small altars boasting different treasures whose power pulled to him, and down the center of the large room was a table whose purpose alternated down its green marble length, ranging from study stations to boasting bowls of succulent-looking fruits to a board game that had been paused halfway through.

“House Chimera is the youngest of the four Houses,” continued Selena, her words practiced, her tone warm. “We’re well aware of our status as upstarts, and have no interest in jockeying with the other three for local power, influence, or financial might. Instead, we focus our energies into forging our teams into elite units that can spear deep into hell in search of unique resources. We specialize in acquiring legendary treasures, in verifying rumors, and uncovering new lands. To accomplish that, we are very discriminating with whom we recruit, for it is our intention to invest heavily in every student that joins our ranks.”

Scorio nodded slowly as he followed her through an archway into a circular chamber whose far, curving walls were broken up by tall windows through which First Rust’s light streamed onto a table. Selena gestured for him to take a chair, and the three recruiters sat across from him. A servant in Chimera livery seemed to materialize from the shadows, and quickly set out golden cups into which she poured an amber liquid.

“Now,” said Selena, taking up her cup when the servant departed. “We’re obviously interested in learning more about you following today’s fights, but in truth, your incredible assistance to Imperator Sol had already brought you to our attention. Could you share with us in your own words what happened on the day Imogen the Woe attacked?”

“Of course,” said Scorio, sitting forward. “I was, at that time, ah, banned from the Academy and living in the ruins. I’d befriended two of the Great Souls with whom I’d originally run the Gauntlet, Leonis and Lianshi, and they’d agreed to come out and explore the ruins with me.” Eliding the existence of the old Gauntlet, he instead focused his tale on Imogen’s arrival, her interest in the broken Archspire and the Portal, and how Praximar had saved them all from her wrath. How they’d been caught up in the fight, and how her memory of him from past lives had caused her to listen to him when he’d asked to be her witness.

“So this was a purposeful plan of yours?” asked Wrack, his tone clinical, almost disinterested. “To trick her into keeping you free-willed until you could strike?”

Scorio frowned. “I’d like to say so, yes, but in truth, I was just trying to remain free-willed. I knew I couldn’t harm her in any way, and so thought my greatest hope lay in speaking with her. Once she started talking to me, I just reacted to her words, saying what I thought she wanted to hear, until at last, she agreed to keep me around to witness her actions.”

“Excuse the inferred accusation, but I would be remiss if I didn’t ask,” continued Wrack. “You weren’t at any time tempted to throw in with her, as it was, so as to ensure your survival?”

Scorio paused. The three of them were staring intently at him, reading his every emotion. Heart pounding, he felt himself flush, then decided not to bother hiding his anger. “No. I’m a Cinder. I knew I had two options: aggravate her and be destroyed, or tell her what she wanted to hear and remain conscious. I don’t know anything about Ettera, or why we should want the Portal opened or not. What I do know about is my friends, and helping them survive was my greatest priority. Letting her destroy Bastion didn’t seem like the best way to do that.”

“Fair,” said Wrack. “Please continue.”

Scorio took a settling breath and did so; repeated the events as they happened, right to his striking at her Ferula when he managed to break free of her control.

“How did that happen, exactly?” asked Selena. “You broke the mental control of an Imperator?”

Her skepticism was wildly and politely understated.

“I had a potion with me,” he said. “Concentrated Black Star syrup. About equal to a weak Gold elixir. Her focus was completely on Sol. When I drank it, I momentarily had the ability to snap the leash she’d placed on me. A leash I think she’d fashioned to control a Cinder, not what I temporarily became.”

Gelegos made a mildly incredulous face, as if he’d taken a taste of dog excrement and found it to be delicious. “That’s very impressive. Where did you come across this syrup?”

“A friend of mine made it,” said Scorio. “I’d started a Black Star farm. She took the raw materials and distilled the result.”

“Impressive,” said Selena, her tone final, her expression approving. “You are clearly a resourceful individual. Please excuse this line of questioning. You are a Red Lister, with all that means, and we’re considering sponsoring despite that. You can understand why we’d want to plumb those matters.”

“Sure,” allowed Scorio.

“You were cast through the Final Door, were you not?” asked Wrack, tone disinterested. “Can you tell us how you survived that sentence?”

Scorio nodded slowly, wanting to indicate agreement even as he let his feelings fall into place. He should have known they’d want to examine every dark corner of his reputation. “It’s a simple story. I escaped more due to luck than anything else.” And he told them, about Sal and his mechanism, the Brass Door, Ravert’s corpse. His subsequent explorations and eventual escape.

“Resourceful is putting it lightly,” said Selena. “I am most impressed, Scorio. You demonstrated as Char the wit and quick thinking we hope to see in a Tomb Spark. Very impressive. You claim that many of your past successes can be attributed to luck, but that modesty fails to convince when your accomplishments are considered cumulatively. Now, normally we request a series of brief tests to judge your mettle, but having seen you fight only half an hour ago, we can waive a number of those. However, would you be willing to let us examine the state of your Igneous Heart, both to gauge your potential and current health?”

Scorio felt his chest tighten but smiled. “Of course. Though, ah, having had to, um, take my own education in hand out in the ruins, I’ve been forced to push myself pretty hard. It’s one of the reasons I’m excited to acquire patronage.”

“Of course,” said Selena with a professional smile. “I understand completely. If you would face Recruiter Gelegos? He will tell us what we need to know.”

Scorio turned to face the languid, leonine man, who smiled at him in a befuddled manner and reached out to place the tips of his fingers on Scorio’s knee.

Nothing happened, and then Scorio felt a shiver pass over him as Gelegos’s gaze sharpened and became a piercing stare. For a moment, Scorio felt like a translucent sheet of glass, his every secret exposed, then Gelegos sighed and retracted his touch.

He took his time turning back to face the table and reached up to adjust his spectacles where they sat upon the bridge of his nose. “Not good, I’m afraid,” he said at last.

“I’m aware of how I’ve damaged my Heart—” began Scorio, but Selena raised a hand and cut him off.

“Continue,” she said to Gelegos.

He sighed. “Numerous problems. The first and most obvious is a slight degree of Heart burn-off. I’d rate it merely at level one, but…”

“To have any degree in a Cinder is an ill omen,” said Wrack. “Indicates a personality that is volatile, impatient, and reckless.”

Scorio bit down on his words, forced himself to wait.

“Second,” continued Gelegos, “his Heart has a moderate degree of fracturing. I’d rate his mana retention to about sixty percent; I noticed highly developed signs of caustic deterioration from within, no doubt to his extensive use of Coal mana and consumption of unrefined Black Star elixirs.”

“Sixty percent,” said Selena, tone grave.

Scorio’s heart sank.

“However,” said Gelegos, tone turning bright, “this is offset by a remarkable depth to his Heart; I doubt he’s anywhere close to his First Trial, but already I’d wager his capacity is at a fifteen or twenty. While this has no doubt been enhanced by his unrestrained consumption of potent mana, it also indicates a naturally potent Heart.”

“Worth checking with the Crystal Gauge?” asked Wrack, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I’m doubting your rating.”

“I’d never dream that you would,” said Gelegos, beaming at Wrack with apparent sincerity. “But yes, I’d be curious to evaluate him with the Gauge. Finally, for one who has progressed without assistance from the Academy, his Heart demonstrates remarkable reactivity; given its depth, this is a necessity, or he’d never have achieved ignition outside of these halls.”

“Interesting,” said Selena, nodding with grudging approval. “And a fine set of counterpoints. The Gauge, then?”

“The Gauge it is,” said Gelegos, rising to his feet and turning to a heavy black case that rested on a shelf behind him.

“A fifteen or a twenty,” said Scorio uncertainly. “Is that good?”

“Context is everything,” said Selena. “For an Emberling? Average to poor. For a Cinder? Above average, if they were on the verge of their First Trial. You, however, are far from it, which is quite exciting.”

Gelegos unsnapped the locks and opened the lid, revealing a black velvet interior formed around the objects contained within. With precise, tranquil movements, the recruiter withdrew and set up a tripod, upon whose apex he affixed a clear gem the size of his fist.

“This is an expensive toy that we acquired at some cost,” he said softly, leaning down to plug a metallic tube of delicate gold mesh to the underside of the crystal.

“By all the hells, don’t call it a toy,” said Selena in resigned exasperation.

Gelegos continued as if he hadn’t heard. “The crystal is the heart of an Attenuation Spider, a rather nasty predator from the Endless Ravines. It acts as a conduit, allowing Great Soul A to pour mana into Great Soul B. There.” The tube clicked into place, and he sat up to smile at Scorio. “The crystal shifts color as it channels ever more continuous mana. We can thus judge a Great Soul’s capacity to draw on mana by how far along the spectrum he can cause the crystal to shift.”

“And the source of the mana?” asked Scorio.

“I will provide,” said Gelegos with great humility, placing his hand to his chest. “You need but focus on directing the mana that will enter you via this cup”—he raised a hemisphere attached to the end of the metallic tube—“into your Heart. Don’t overdo it—we need to know your comfort level, not your extreme maximum.”

“Understood,” said Scorio, taking the cup and pulling it toward him. The gold mesh extended and narrowed as it pulled, making the tube ever slenderer. “Against my chest?”

“Just so,” said Gelegos. “Is your Heart empty?”

“Of course,” said Scorio, confused.

“Very well,” said Gelegos, not bothering to explain. “I’ve found that it helps for you to close your eyes and focus on your Heart instead of watching the crystal. Let us begin.”

Scorio did as he was bid, summoning his Heart and closing his eyes, so that it sprang into being before him, malformed after the burn-off, and hovering amidst scintillating clouds of copper and iron.

Was he doing well? Would they take him if they thought his Heart too damaged? That he’d cost them too many resources? If so, his only chance at changing their mind was by impressing them with the depth of his Heart, his ability to take on mana beyond anything they had ever seen.

Spiraling black Coal mana suddenly flooded into his senses, flowing out of the cup that he’d pressed to his chest and swirling around his Heart. Scorio took a deep breath, summoned his will, and visualized his trusty, broad paddle. Shepherded the mana as it blew forth, causing it to spin around his Heart, and when he had it moving at a good speed, he opened his Heart wide and inhaled, drawing the Coal into his core.

The very thickness of the Coal caused it to vent more slowly; it seemed to gum up in the fractures of his Heart. It still leaked forth, tendrils of black smoke spilling out, but Scorio felt it build within his core, grow ponderous and dense as he willed ever more of it into his being.

Then the mana emerging from the cup changed, becoming Copper. Slippery and quicksilver, it streamed forth, and Scorio had to center in order to adapt, to capture the mana with his paddle, to guide it about his Heart. It was like trying to herd eels; they wished to course away in every direction, and it was only the gravity of the situation that allowed him to focus so completely that he was able to draw it in.

The Copper was infinitely different, however, from the turgid Coal; it seemed to escape, nosing about within his Heart and finding the fractures swiftly, pouring forth almost as quickly as he drew it in. Scorio lowered his chin, clenched his jaw, and willed more into his Heart, which was beginning to feel uncomfortably full. Fought not to grow furious at how much Copper he was losing; Gelegos had guessed forty percent, but it seemed much more.

He was just starting to despair when the Copper finally gave way to Iron. Dense and independent, it flowed forth from the cup as if it wished nothing more than to remain free of all dominion. Scorio flexed his will, reached forth and exerted his authority over its own, found the Iron as before resistant, unimpressed. But Scorio didn’t yield; all his lessons under Hera came to the fore, and he maintained an active and steady pressure until the Iron succumbed and flowed into his Heart.

And there it coiled, growing denser, more compact by the second, as it sought to accommodate the heavy Coal and slivers of Copper that remained. Scorio drew more and more of the Iron, not allowing himself to relent. Sweat prickled his brow. His breath became shallow and rapid. His muscles wanted to lock up, and within his chest, his real heart pounded as if in alarm, as if seeking to warn him that he was entering dangerous territory.

But still, Scorio focused. Bent his will to the Iron that flowed forth to fill the air around him, pulling on it, guiding it into his Heart, which seemed to swell, creaking and cracking, to accommodate the pressures growing within.

He could do this. He could take more. He could always take more. If it was a question of capacity, and capacity was determined by tolerance, then he could consume all of hell.

He would not break.

His Heart groaned, stretched, and he felt it grow, not in size, but in depth, as if its very center were falling away, the space within its faceted confines growing greater even as the shell remained static in form.

More. Feverish, swaying in his chair, he gripped the arms to steady himself as he willed more Iron into his Heart, unable to breathe, his whole body rigid—then the Iron cut off, and he snapped open his eyes.

The three Recruiters were staring at the crystal, which had lit up with a painfully bright, almost white glow.

“High Iron,” said Selena. “Verging on Bronze.”

“Rank thirty-five,” said Gelegos, lowering the golden mesh tube to the table. “Quite impressive for a Cinder.”

“But look at him,” said Wrack, tone hard. “He looks fit to keel over. Which dovetails perfectly with what I said about his being reckless.”

“I’m fine,” said Scorio, voice coming from miles away. The mana burned in his Heart, and though it was flooding out through the fractures at a rapid rate, it wasn’t venting fast enough. “Permission to ignite my Heart?”

“Go ahead,” said Selena, bemused.

He flexed his will, and his Heart whoomphed into flame so powerfully that Scorio jerked back in his chair. Strength, terrible and puissant, rushed into his shaking limbs, washing away the feverish trembling. He exhaled in relief and smiled at them all. “That’s better.”

“Don’t float away from us now,” said Gelegos, grinning. “That much mana will go right to your head.”

“Don’t worry,” said Scorio, feeling sublime. “It’s like I said. I have it under control.”

Selena sat back and tapped her lips, crossing one leg over the other. “These fractures are worrisome, and your ambition is both laudable and a danger. If we were to sign you onto our team, Scorio, we would need to deal with both.”

Scorio felt at ease, powerful, almost contemptuous of the problems. “How so, Principal Recruiter?”

“The first would require treasures that would heal your fractures. We would dedicate the resources we allocated to you to that alone. A couple of Sublime Purification pills each Eighthday, with an Apotheosis pill every Eighthday or other Eighthday depending on how quickly you recovered.”

“A Thousand Step wouldn’t go amiss,” said Gelegos in a distracted tone, taking his crystal gauge apart. “Peaceful Wheel would be particularly apt, don’t you think, Wrack?”

Wrack frowned. “Given his second problem, yes.”

“I was getting to that,” said Selena. “We’d start you with Sublime Purification and Apotheosis pills to both heal and elevate your Heart, and yes, a Thousand Step to prevent brittleness as you healed would be apt. But your ambition cannot be healed with pills and elixirs alone. Peaceful Wheel would help ground and settle you, along with private meditation classes here at our center. But we’re going to have to work with you to elucidate this strong—”

“Reckless,” interjected Wrack.

“—desire to gain power at any cost. Already you’re running into the limitations your past strategies have created for you. There is a very distinct reason Great Souls do not acquire power at any cost. Anyone in your class could excel beyond all measure if fed the right combination of potent treasures, only to flame out and become a forgotten footnote to your cohort’s records.”

Scorio felt the first flickers of anger deep within his core, but forced himself to relax. “I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Selena gave him a firm smile as if to take the sting from her words. “I’ve conducted hundreds of interviews just like this one, Scorio. Sat across from ambitious, hungry young Great Souls who want nothing more than to hit the next level of power. Who, if given the chance, would consume an Apotheosis pill a day and drink elixirs of pure Diamond. Right up till their Heart shattered, imploded, burned off or they lost their minds and went mad. Which has happened. Our current practices are guided by previous centuries’ excesses. There were times in our history when we thought we had no choice but to feed young Great Souls treasures beyond their ability, and while that allowed Bastion and our kind to survive those crises, they came at a terrible cost: entire cohorts ruined, driven mad, and turned into burned-out husks of themselves. Those excesses inform our approach today, which means what we give you is calibrated to maximize your long-term success.”

Selena leaned forward and fixed him with her stare. “We are not interested in a moment’s fireworks. If we sign you up with House Chimera, we will do everything we can to ensure you have the very best long-term career that we can provide. We want you to reach Imperator one day, not Dread Blaze tomorrow. Now, with that long-term view in mind, do you see why your temperament is a problem?”

“Sure, but I’ve one objection,” said Scorio, sitting up and speaking the words even as they came to him, not knowing what the objection even was till he mentioned it. “Everything I’ve done up to this point has been to survive. I wasn’t given a chance at a normal career. I was thrown through the Final Door, then had to scrape by in the ruins till I was able to impress Imperator Sol and return to the Academy. If I had behaved this way from the start while always a member of the Academy, I’d agree, I’ve a temperament problem. But I don’t. I have an overwhelming need to survive. And with your patronage and continued education at the Academy?” He sat back, smiling genially, his Heart still burning with mixed flames of copper, black, and dull silver. “That’ll no longer be a problem.”

“Well put,” said Wrack, “but we just witnessed you burn your Heart for power.”

“So as to attract your attention and earn healing,” said Scorio smoothly. “Instructor Hera told me that without House sponsorship it would take me a couple of years to naturally regenerate the damage my Heart has incurred. I don’t want to wait that long. And with your patronage, I won’t have to, nor will I have to use extreme measures anymore.”

“Oh, I like him,” said Gelegos, snapping the black case shut and smiling benignly at Selena. “Can we keep him?”

“No, we can’t keep him,” said Selena. “Honestly, Gelegos.”

“But I want to keep him,” said the recruiter, turning to smile at Scorio. “And with the wealth of pills at our disposal, I believe he’d not mind being kept. What do you think, Scorio?”

“I’d appreciate the chance to impress you further,” Scorio said without hesitation.

“Yes, I’m sure you would.” Selena sat back and tapped her chin. “Well, I think you’re worth the risk. To be honest, your being vouchsafed by Imperator Sol makes you almost worthy of being admitted regardless of your personal qualities. I’m going to make the private meditation sessions mandatory, however, both to help you control your ambition as well as a means to keep an eye on your progress. We’ll have your treasures delivered to the mess hall, and will provide you with an official Chimera badge so that you may both claim them and demonstrate your allegiance. You’re to wear it when outside your rooms unless otherwise instructed, and your every action will henceforth both reflect on your character and our decision to sponsor you.”

Scorio sat still for a moment, stunned by what had just happened—they’d accepted him.

He was in.

“Now, official sponsorship comes with other perks,” Selena was saying. “Access to these rooms and the resources contained here, coaching on your final Gauntlet run, the opportunity to form your Gauntlet team with other Chimera students, all of whom are amongst the most elite in your cohort, and tours of the Chimera Tower and other official buildings, which involves meeting the senior management and leadership of the House.”

Scorio nodded rapidly to show he was listening but felt overwhelmed, unable to get past the fact that it had happened. He’d been brought in.

He was going to be healed.

“…don’t appreciate the opportunity, being fixated on their current challenges, but long-term success in the House depends as much on your connections to senior team members as it does your own talent, so we’ll coach you on how to behave on these tours, whom to look out for, and what questions to ask so that you make the best possible impression. Remember, your stint at the Academy will only last at most for two years; after that, you’ll be a Chimera man, and your fortunes will depend on how well you navigate those halls of power. But we can speak on all of that later. For now, let me take the opportunity to formally welcome you to House Chimera. Welcome, Scorio.”

And Selena rose to her feet, followed a second later by Wrack and Gelegos. She extended her hand and smiled her tight, customary smile when he shook it.

“We’ll let you know when the House contract is ready for you to sign, along with the other sundry forms like our Code of Honor and the Spirit of Chimera. You’ll receive your badge when you sign them, and at that point, we’ll figure out your schedule.”

“In the meantime,” said Wrack stiffly, “you can have your copy of House Chimera, a History.” He turned to another shelf behind him which was laden with exact duplicates of a small, leather-bound book. “It so happens that I worked on the latest edition with Flame Vault Upparo and was greatly honored to have my edits approved by Pyre Lord Zaffex himself.”

Wrack slid the book across the table to Scorio, traced the edge of its cover with one finger, then linked his hands behind his back. “All House members are expected to know our history by heart. Let this humble tome be your vade mecum, Scorio. You will find much wisdom and inspiration within its covers.”

“Thank you, Recruiter Wrack,” said Scorio, taking the book up. “I, ah, will be sure to read it carefully.”

Wrack gave a sharp nod, then turned to Selena.

“Excellent,” she said. “Then that concludes this interview. Welcome to the House Chimera family, Scorio. We’ll let you know when you should return to sign documents and collect your badge.”

“Thank you, Principal Recruiter,” said Scorio, bowing before her. “Recruiter Gelegos. Recruiter Wrack.”

“You’re welcome,” said Gelegos, pushing up his glasses again. “It will be fascinating to watch how you progress.”

“Yes,” said Wrack unenthusiastically. “Fascinating.”

Selena came around the table and stepped into the archway. “I’ll see you out. But I agree. I think you’re going to make an excellent addition to our House. And while I genuinely can’t wait to see how well you’ll fare in the tournament and the final Gauntlet run, I’ve a strong presentiment that those successes will pale in comparison to what you’ll accomplish down the line.”

“Thank you,” was all Scorio could say, and as he stepped out of the chamber his Heart guttered and died. Strength flooded from his body, leaving him feeling weak and worn, as if he’d not slept in days. “I’ll do my best to live up to your expectations.”

“Oh, I know you will,” said Selena, smiling and leading him forth. “You’ll have no choice in the matter.”