C_P_Tuck

Hey guys. Another day gap, but don't worry, I have a good reason this time. As you'll read in this chapter, I have a big event I'm planning for this story. So yesterday, I gave myself a day off to do some planning for said event. I wanted to make sure that I could have something awesome and compelling for you, and I hope you'll agree.

On another note, I'm loving the theories that some of you are coming up with in the comments of the chapters :D. I won't tell you if you're right or wrong (spoilers, obviously), but I do love to hear them. So share your personal thoughts and theories below, and discuss with each other!

Anyway, here's Chapter 13. Much love, and I hope you enjoy!

“Apprentice Silas, come in.”

That was a little disturbing, I thought to myself. I’d arrived at the Reaper Clan’s headquarters about twenty minutes early, and, pausing only to get a coffee, I’d headed straight down to where Mikel’s office was. I was always good with directions and memory and had no trouble remembering where it was. I knocked and received an instant reply. Now I pushed the door open.

Mikel’s office was much as I remembered it, with one obvious change. There were more people present than before. Marisha wasn’t there, but standing around the desk were four tall figures dressed in black. The aura radiating them was incredibly dense, on par with Mikel’s. Mikel himself sat in his chair, of course, his dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on my surprised and curious face.

“Close the door and stand before me,” Mikel said. “Pay no attention to my guests.”

I closed the door as instructed, my confusion increasing. How could I not pay attention to them? They were intimidating as hell, standing there silent, their eyes also focused on me. I noticed that they were not in Reaper form, which meant that their black robes were intentionally selected. Weird.

“Good morning, Master Mikel,” I said stiffly, coming to attention. “What are we doing for training today?”

“We are not training,” Mikel replied. “Rather, I will not be teaching you today. One of our guests will teach you if they deem it worth their effort.”

Seeing as how Mikel had mentioned them directly, I figured I was at least allowed to acknowledge their existence. I looked quickly at each figure in turn. Apart from the difference in stature, they looked identical. The same crest that was on Mikel’s chest, a stooping hawk, was on their robes. I nodded at each one as I studied them, and received four nods in return. I stood a little straighter.

“What do you need to know to determine my worth?” I asked.

“Shift.” The figure on the far left spoke. The voice was raspy and deep.

I glanced at Mikel for a second to gauge his reaction, and he gave the barest hint of a nod. I pulled the hot wind out of my body and felt myself change shape. In less than a second, I stood in my robe adorned with the wolf head’s crest.

“And your weapon,” Mikel added. In another second, the large scythe was in my left hand.

The four figures muttered quietly at the sight of the weapon, and I could have sworn they all shuffled back an inch or two. But then they were silent, and all looked to Mikel. He saw their attention and held up one hand.

“Very good, Silas,” he said, his voice giving nothing away. “Now boost your defense.”

I concentrated my aura more densely around my body to create a shield. It took me a few seconds to remember the sensation, as I hadn’t attempted it for a few days, but I let out an unseen sigh of relief as I felt the energy condense. There were a few approving mutters from the hooded figures.

“Do you know how to use a scythe, boy?” This time it was the figure immediately to Mikel’s left. The voice was deep and melodic, and I guess that it was a woman.

“No, ma’am,” I said hesitantly. “I don’t any weapon skills at all.”

“My name is Master Selena, not ma’am,” she corrected me, reaching up to pull her hood back. “That is unfortunate, however. There are no competent scythe users in the Reaper Clan.”

“There are no scythe users in the Reaper Clan,” the man to her left interrupted, with a distinct Russian accent. He too removed his hood. “But that should not pose any problems.”

Master Selena looked to be middle-aged, with short-cut blonde hair and bright green eyes. Curiously, her skin was a deep olive in color, and there was an intricate tattoo on her forehead, spaced equally between her eyes. The other man, who introduced himself as Master Ivan, had a bald head with a full beard and mustache, both jet-black like Master Mikel’s. He was bulky all the way through, though not all of him was muscles. Still, apart from the large belly, his entire frame rippled with power.

“Ivan, Selena, I take it you approve of him?” Mikel said now, glancing at them. They both nodded, and he turned to the other side, looking at the last two. “Master Tamotsu? Master Gene?”

The first figure he’d addressed, the one with the raspy voice, did not reply at once, but the other slowly reached up and removed his hood. Master Gene was exceptionally tall, with bright red hair and sharp features. He was one of those Frenchmen who would be considered handsome by the girls in my school.

“He is adequate,” Master Gene said slowly. “Certainly worth further growth.”

I grinned at Master Gene, but he merely nodded back. Then all eyes turned to the last figure, Master Tamotsu. He took a few steps away from the desk to stand before me, only centimeters away. Then he gave me a deliberate and overt sniff, like a parent trying to catch a child that hadn’t bathed.

“You have the smell of death about you,” he said in his low raspy voice. “It is faint but present.”

I had no idea what he meant by that, and, judging by their reactions, neither did anyone else. Both Ivan and Selena looked at Mikel, who stared at Tamotsu with a faint frown creasing his face. Gene looked at me, one eyebrow raised, but silent.

“What do you mean, Tamotsu?” Mikel said gruffly. “You say that about every Reaper you meet.”

Tamotsu finally pulled his hood off, revealing a mess of tangled black hair that reached his shoulders. He looked vaguely oriental, with light brown eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought of him as the average beggar one finds in a dark alley or under a bridge. But the eyes had a light of cunning intelligence to them.

“No, Master,” he said in his soft hiss. “Reapers smell of power. Power and Blood. This one smells of death.”

“Okay, but what does that mean?” I asked, an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

Tamotsu looked for a moment as if he would answer, but only shrugged. “I do not know. I have never smelled this before.”

He retreated back to the desk, walking in a slouch. As he returned to Gene’s side, he looked to Mikel and nodded slightly. “He is strong for such a little Reaper. I approve of your idea.”

“Idea?” I blurted out, thrown by the pace of events. “What idea?”

“Do you know what is coming at the end of this month, Apprentice Silas?” Master Selena said, drawing my attention.

I shook my head, which she seemed to expect. She explained. “Every year, we hold the Crucible. It is a training camp of sorts, where every Master can send their apprentice to prove their worth.”

“Oh,” I said. Then, after a slight pause, I continued. “But why me? Do you have any other apprentices?”

“I have one other apprentice,” Mikel said. “But he is away, attending a college overseas, and does not wish to participate this year.”

“So I do have a choice?” I asked. “I don’t have to participate if I don’t want to?”

Tamotsu laughed quietly. “Oh, little Silas, you will want to participate. That, I am sure of.”