"You want to do what?"
Seraphina's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a shout. She was leaning against the trunk of a massive mahogany tree, her skin the color of old parchment. The blood loss had stopped thanks to Rylen's pressure, but she was fading fast.
"We want to borrow a healer," Kael corrected, crouching beside her. "Permanently. Or at least until your internal organs stay on the inside."
"That is..." Seraphina swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering. "That is the single most idiotic strategy I have ever heard. It's suicide. It's..."
"It's the only play we have," Rylen cut in, his voice unusually serious. "Look, you can't walk. If we stay here, the zone shrinks and we're eliminated. If we try to carry you, we get caught and we're eliminated. Kael's plan... it has a non-zero chance of working."
"0.0001% is technically non-zero," Kael muttered to himself.
Seraphina looked at Rylen, then at Kael. She saw the desperation in their eyes. She also saw the resolve.
"Fine," she breathed, her head lolling back against the bark. "But If I die while you're gone... you two will have to run."
"Noted," Kael said. He stood up and turned to the bushes where the sentry had died.
Lying in the dirt was the wooden mask.
Kael stared at it. It was carved from dark wood, painted with jagged white lines that formed a single, unblinking vertical eye. It looked primitive. Violent.
"I hate this," Kael said. "I really hate this."
He picked up the mask. It felt heavy. Cold. He wiped the mud off the inside and placed it over his face.
The world narrowed immediately. His vision was restricted to a thin slit. The smell of old wood and varnish filled his nose, stifling and claustrophobic. He felt like he was breathing through a straw.
"How do I look?" Kael asked, his voice muffled.
Rylen looked him up and down.
"You look terrifying," Rylen admitted. "Like a nightmare."
"Good," Kael grunted. He adjusted the strap. "Stay here. If I'm not back in ten minutes... well, run."
"Good luck," Rylen whispered.
Kael didn't answer. He turned and walked into the darkness, heading straight for the lions' den.
Walking into an enemy base was an experience Kael would rate zero out of five stars.
His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to turn around, find a hole, and hibernate. But the image of Seraphina bleeding out kept his feet moving.
He emerged from the tree line and stepped into the perimeter of the base.
He expected a challenge. He expected a shout of "Who goes there?!"
There was nothing.
The camp was bathed in the flickering orange glow of three large bonfires. Tents were arranged in a strict grid. There were at least twenty students moving about—sharpening weapons, eating rations.
And it was dead silent.
It wasn't just quiet; it was unnatural. No one was talking. No one was laughing. No one was even whispering. The only sounds were the crackle of the wood and the rhythmic scraping of whetstones.
Kael walked past two guards stationed near a supply crate. They were wearing masks identical to his. They turned their heads slowly to watch him pass. The painted eyes seemed to judge him.
Kael held his breath, forcing his legs not to shake. He walked with a stiff, mechanical gait, mimicking what he had seen from the sentry.
Don't run. Don't look guilty. You belong here. You are just a very dirty, very tired cultist.
The guards turned back to their watch. They didn't say a word.
Kael exhaled slowly.
'Creepy, definitely a cult.'
He scanned the camp through the narrow eye slit.
He needed to find the healer quickly.
There.
Near the central fire, separated from the black-clad knights, stood a girl.
She was small, with mouse-brown hair tied back in a messy bun.
She wasn't wearing a mask.
She was organizing a set of glass vials on a wooden crate, her hands moving with nervous, jittery energy. She looked out of place among the silent, masked giants—like a rabbit dropped into a pit of vipers.
Kael adjusted his path. He walked straight toward her, trying to look purposeful.
As he got closer, he noticed the details. She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she kept glancing around nervously.
Kael stopped right behind her.
She didn't notice him. She was too focused on counting something.
Kael reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.
"Eep!"
The girl jumped a solid three inches into the air, nearly knocking over a vial of red liquid. She spun around, clutching her chest, her eyes wide with terror.
When she saw the masked figure towering over her, she shrank back, trembling.
Kael blinked behind the mask.
'She's terrified of her own teammates? What is going on here?'
"What happened?" she asked, her eyes darting to the mud caked on his uniform. "You... you look..."
Kael lowered his voice, trying to sound gruff and urgent.
"Uhm, someone is injured in the bushes."
The girl froze.
Her eyes, which had been darting around nervously, suddenly locked onto his mask.
They widened—not in fear, but in pure, unadulterated shock.
"You can talk?" she whispered.
Kael paused.
What?
"Why would I not be able to talk?" Kael asked, genuinely confused.
The girl took a step back. She stared at him intently, her gaze traveling from the wooden mask down to his tattered uniform, then to his boots which were still squelching with river water.
She looked around the camp at the other masked students. They were still silent. Moving like puppets.
Then she looked back at Kael.
Kael's heart stopped.
'She knows. She realized I'm not one of them. The mud. The voice. I'm dead.'
His muscles tensed. He calculated the distance to the tree line. If he ran now, he might make it five steps before they turned him into a pincushion.
He was about to bolt.
"Okay," the girl said suddenly.
"Ehh?" Kael let out a confused noise.
"Lead the way," she whispered, grabbing her staff and clutching it to her chest. She looked at him with an expression Kael couldn't quite place.
"Quickly," she added, glancing over her shoulder at the silent guards. "Before they notice."
Kael stared at her.
This exam makes absolutely no sense.
"Right," Kael managed. "Follow me."