Hill stared up at the old man, a question written across his face.
"Who are you?"
The old man's eyebrow went up. He turned to look at the blonde man behind him, then narrowed his eyes and started scratching the back of his head.
"Did I not introduce myself?"
The blonde man chuckled. "You didn't."
"Damn it!" The old man spat out the words, then spun back around to face Hill. He cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. I'm feeling a bit heavy-headed right now."
"You mean light-headed?" Hill's voice came out as a whisper. His throat felt raw from the lack of use, he was also quite thirsty.
"No, no." The old man shook his head. "I mean my head feels like someone stuffed it full of logs. Everything's heavy in there." He pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath. "Let me start over. My name is Peshar Angleton. I'm the one in charge of this group of ruffians we've got here."
He gestured toward the blonde man with one hand. "That's Zeren Angleton. He's my second in command and also happens to be my son-in-law."
Zeren pushed himself off the doorframe where he'd been leaning. His blue eyes locked onto Hill's red ones, and Hill felt cold spread through his chest.
He looks icy.
"Enough with the pleasantries, old man." Zeren stepped forward until he stood next to Peshar. He was taller than the old man by at least a head. "We have urgent matters to deal with."
Hill watched as Zeren's expression shifted into a harder form.
"What is your soul art?"
The words hung in the air for a moment. Hill blinked once, then twice. His mind felt sluggish trying to process what he'd just been asked.
"My what?"
"Your soul art," Zeren repeated. "The special ability you received when you went through your awakening. Everyone who passes the trial gets one. So what's yours?"
Hill opened his mouth before closing it again. The confusion must have shown on his face because Zeren's expression darkened further.
"Let me make this simple for you," Zeren continued. "You tell us what your power is, or we leave you out in the wilderness. No protection. No shelter. You'll die to the beasts."
The threat certainly wasn't subtle. Hill's mouth went dry. He ran his tongue over cracked lips and tasted the old blood from his wounds.
The problem was, he didn't know what they were talking about. Not really. He remembered the trial voices mentioning an awakening. That much was clear in his memory. But after he'd fallen, everything just went black.
One moment I was falling, the next I woke up here.
Should he tell them that? Would they believe him? He looked at Zeren's face again, at cold eyes that seemed to be dissecting every movement within his expression. This definitely wasn't someone he could fool with a made-up story. Zeren would see through any lie before he finished telling it. Easily.
Oh shut up, Hill! What's the harm in trying?
Zeren's gaze grew more menacing.
Okay, damn.
Hill took a breath and decided on the truth.
"I don't know if I'm awakened." The words came out quiet. He found himself looking down at the rough wooden floor. "When I fell during the trial, everything went dark. It's like I'd passed out or something. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here. If there was supposed to be an awakening, I never experienced it. I swear I'm telling the truth."
The silence stretched out. Hill kept his eyes on the floor, waiting for Zeren to do anything. He partially expected him to explode and yell at him. It was a default reaction that he had grown to expect over the years, especially from authority figures in his life.
Instead, he heard a grunt.
"Hmm."
Hill looked up to find Peshar stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed.
"I've never heard of something like this happening before," the old man said. "This is interesting. Very interesting." He glanced at Zeren. "What do you make of it?"
Zeren let out a slow breath through his nose. "He's certainly unusual." His attention shifted back to Hill. "But we can test this easily enough."
He snapped his fingers.
"Try summoning your runes."
Hill's confusion must have been obvious because Peshar jumped in before he could ask.
"Runes. You know what those are, don't you?"
"No." Hill shook his head slowly. "I don't."
The old man's eyes went wide. "What? How can you not know about runes?" His voice rose slightly. "When you awaken, it's like your entire being gets shocked with electricity. It reverberates through everything you are. You feel changed in a way you can't quite explain. And right after that, the runes appear. They just show up, floating in front of you." He paused, studying Hill's face. "Are you absolutely certain you haven't experienced anything like that?"
His eyes narrowed.
"Are you really an earthling?"
"The igashians know about runes too, father." Zeren's voice cut through before Hill could respond. "And based on what Ashen told us, this kid's from Earth. He's just confused…or stupid."
I beg your fucking pardon?
Zeren tilted his head slightly, studying Hill.
"Probably got his head rattled during the trial. It happens." He paused, then asked, "Do you remember the timer from the trial? The one that counted down from five minutes?"
The question sparked recognition to flood through his mind. Hill's eyes widened. "Yeah. Yes, I remember that."
"Good. That's a start." Zeren leaned forward slightly. "Now think about what it looked like. Not just the countdown itself, but how it appeared. What symbols were used for the numbers? Do you remember their shape?"
Hill nodded slowly as the memory surfaced above the foggy waters. Those strange symbols that had appeared in the air. They'd been completely foreign to him. He knew they were nothing like any numbers or letters he'd ever seen, but somehow his brain had understood them instantly.
"I remember them. They were weird. Like nothing I'd ever seen before, but I could still read them somehow."
"Perfect." Zeren brought his hands together, and Hill caught what might have been anticipation in his expression. "Those symbols were runes. And now that you've passed the trial, you should be able to summon your own."
He paused, making sure Hill was following.
"Here's what I want you to do. Picture those timer symbols in your mind. Keep that image clear. Then, and this is the important part, think about yourself. Not your name or your memories, but the core of what you are. Your existence itself. If you can do both at once, the runes should appear."
Hill straightened up on the ground, eager to try despite everything. He closed his eyes and tried to follow Zeren's instructions.
First, the timer. He could see it clearly in his memory, those alien symbols that had counted down his remaining time. He remembered how they'd formed from motes of light that swirled and collided before taking shape.
Then he tried to think about his existence. What does that even mean? He started with the obvious: his breathing. The air moving in and out of his lungs. His heartbeat, steady and strong despite everything. The blood flowing through his veins. He became aware of his entire body, every ache and pain from his injuries.
He held both images in his mind, the timer symbols and his own existence, trying to merge them somehow.
Nothing happened.
Hill kept his eyes closed, straining to feel something, anything. The silence stretched on. He could sense Zeren's impatience building like pressure in the air.
"Well?" Zeren snapped.
"I'm trying," Hill said, not opening his eyes. He focused harder on the timer symbols, picturing each one in as much detail as possible. Still nothing.
Minutes passed. Hill's concentration began to slip. His thoughts wandered despite his best efforts. The aches in his body became more prominent and began demanding attention. His nose still throbbed from Leo's punches. His back hurt where he'd been pressed against the tree.
"This is taking too long," Zeren muttered.
"Give the boy a moment," Peshar said quietly. "This is a unique situation, after all."
Hill tried a different approach. Instead of thinking about his body, he tried to think about who he was. Hill. Hillel Tehom. A boy from Agshaka who'd survived four months in the catacombs.
Nothing.
Frustration began to creep in. What am I doing wrong? Zeren had made it sound simple, but Hill couldn't feel anything remotely like what they'd described. No electric shock. No change in his being. Just the same tired body sitting on a dirty floor.
"Perhaps he really didn't awaken," Peshar said quietly.
"That's impossible," Zeren replied, but Hill could hear the doubt in his voice. "Everyone who passes the trial awakens. Literally everyone."
Hill opened his eyes, ready to apologize and about to admit defeat. But as his eyelids lifted, something shifted inside him.
It was subtle at first. Like noticing a sound that had always been there but you'd never consciously heard before. There was something flowing through him. It was something that wasn't blood or air or anything physical. In fact, it felt massive and contained at the same time, like an ocean that was being forced through a narrow channel somehow.
He followed that feeling and traced it back, doing his best as he searched for where it came from. The timer symbols were still in his mind, and now this new sensation joined them. The two things seemed to recognize each other, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. It felt oddly satisfying.
A faint glow appeared in front of him.
"Oho," Peshar began. "He sees something, doesn't he? Go on, boy. Do you see anything?"
Hill stared at the barely visible shimmer in the air. It wasn't much, just a suggestion of light hitting the air before him. He felt like he was imagining it at first, but the more he stared at it, the more apparent it became to him that it was real.
"I think so," he breathed.
"Don't lose it," Zeren mumbled.
Hill tried to do as instructed. The glow strengthened slightly, then flickered and nearly disappeared. Panic shot through him, and the light died completely.
"Damn it," he muttered.
"Again," Zeren commanded. "Find it again."
It took another several minutes. Hill had to close his eyes once more, had to search for that strange flowing sensation inside himself. It was easier this time, now that he knew what he was looking for. When he opened his eyes, the glow returned, stronger than before.
Symbols began to form. They appeared slowly, painfully slowly, like someone drawing in sand with a stick. Each rune took shape one careful line at a time. They swirled and danced in the air, trying to organize themselves but not quite managing it.
Hill's head started to ache from the concentration. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The symbols kept trying to scatter, to break apart, and he had to mentally hold them together.
"Good," Peshar said encouragingly. "You're doing well. Let them settle."
The runes finally began to organize themselves properly. They formed a line, then another below it, then another. Row after row appeared, each one settling into place with agonizing slowness.
And somehow, impossibly, he understood what they meant.
Name: [Hillel Tehom]
Age: [16]
Height: [5'10"]
Weight: [110 lb]
Race: [Earthling Human]
Title: [None]
Soul Core: [Dormant]
Soul Core Rank: [Dormant]
Relics: [None]
Attributes: [The Enchained Hollows, Inchoated Soul]
Soul Art: [None]
Soul Art Rank: [None]
Body Condition: [Healthy]
Soul Condition: [Stable]
Bloodline: [None]
Bloodline Rank: [None]
Hill's breath came out shaky.
Finally, I did it!
"You see something, don't you?" Zeren's voice had changed slightly. Some of the hardness from earlier had subtly eased.
"Yes," Hill managed. Then a thought struck him. He waved his hand through the air where the runes floated. "Wait, you can't see this?"
It seemed impossible that something so bright and clear to him would be invisible to everyone else.
A small smirk appeared on Zeren's face. "No. The runes are yours alone. Only you can see them." He leaned forward. "Now look for your soul art. Find that line and focus on it. The runes should split apart to show you more information."
Hill's attention went immediately to that damning line:
Soul Art: [None]
His stomach dropped. Even before he focused on it, he knew this was bad news. Could he really get more information just by focusing? He stared at the words.
The line split apart, new runes forming beneath it:
Soul Art: [None]
Soul Art Description: [No Soul Art. Your soul art is unknown, and thus remains hidden within your soul. To awaken your soul art, your soul must undergo an evolution.]
Everything felt like it was slowing down around him. Hill read the description three times, hoping he'd misunderstood. He hoped the runes would change if he looked at them differently. Alas, they didn't budge.
He knew he had to tell them. After all, there was no avoiding it. But the words were stuck in his throat.
"Well?" Zeren asked. His voice had taken on an impatient edge again. "What does it say?"
Hill pulled his attention away from the glowing symbols and looked at Zeren. The man's blue eyes were locked onto him.
"It says I don't have one." The words felt heavy as they left his mouth, but he forced them out anyway. "I need to evolve my soul or something. That's what the description says."
Zeren's expression didn't change immediately. For a long moment, he simply stared at Hill. Then his jaw tightened.
"Read it again," he said. "Make sure you don't misread."
Hill looked back at the runes, even though he knew what they'd say. "Soul Art: None. Soul Art Description: No Soul Art. Your soul art is unknown, and thus remains hidden within your soul. To awaken your soul art, your soul must undergo an evolution."
Silence followed. Hill watched as Zeren's hands slowly curled into fists at his sides. The man's breathing had changed as if he was trying to hold himself back.
"That's not possible," Zeren said quietly. "Everyone gets a soul art. Everyone."
"I'm just reading what it says," Hill replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Then you're reading it wrong." Zeren's voice had dropped lower. "Look again."
"I don't think I can change what's written there," Hill said. "I'm sorry, but that's what it says."
But Zeren wasn't listening anymore. He closed the distance between them in two quick steps, his hand shooting out to grab Hill's collar. Hill barely had time to react before he was being hauled up from the wooden floor, his feet barely touching the ground.
"Do you have any idea what we're dealing with out here?" Zeren's face was inches from his, spittle flying with each word. "The igashians grow bolder every day. We're losing people, good people, and we can't replace them. Every loss makes us weaker while they get stronger. And you want me to waste time and resources on someone who doesn't even have the basic requirement for survival in this place?"
He shook Hill hard enough to rattle his teeth.
"I don't have time for this. I simply don't! Where can I find the fucking patience for useless people like you?"
"Boy, please!" Peshar raised both hands, alarm clear on his face. "Put him down!"
Zeren shoved Hill backward with enough force to send him crashing into the stool. It shattered under the impact, wood splintering in every direction. Sharp splinters dug into Hill's back and arms. He gasped as he felt the uncomfortable sensation of wood penetrating his skin.
Zeren stood over him. His chest heaving heavily despite having not done anything physically straining. For a moment, Hill thought the man might swing and hit him. Instead, Zeren spat on the floor beside him.
"Useless," he said, his voice dripping with disgust. "Completely useless."
He turned and walked toward the door. The door slammed behind him with enough force to rattle the walls of the small hut. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
Hill sat frozen among the broken pieces of the stool as his heart pounded. The silence that followed felt awful.
What an asshole. He thought to himself.
Peshar sighed deeply, then shook his head. When he looked at Hill, his expression had softened considerably.
"I'm sorry about that. He's been under a lot of stress lately. We all have." The old man moved closer, his staff tapping against the floor. "Things haven't been easy for us. It hasn't been easy for a long time."
Hill found his voice, though it came out shaky. "Is it really that bad? Not having a soul art?"
Peshar was quiet for a moment, considering his answer. When he nodded, it was slow and reluctant.
"Unfortunately, yes. You have to understand, based on what we know, an awakened person is defined by their soul art. It's the power that comes from a strengthened soul, and we believe it is the way the soul reaches out and affects the physical world. Without it..."
He trailed off, but Hill could fill in the rest.
"Without it, I'm useless."
"A burden," Peshar confirmed, though he didn't seem happy about it. "That's how Zeren will see it, anyway. He's not wrong to be angry. We truly are struggling. Every person here needs to contribute something, and combat power is the most valuable contribution of all."
"But I can still help!" Hill's voice shook. "I'm a fast learner. I can do other things. There has to be something I can do."
Peshar held up a hand, stopping him.
"Look, personally? I don't care whether you have a soul art or not. People can be useful in all sorts of ways." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "But Zeren has full responsibility over the management of the camp. He makes the decisions about who stays and who goes. And that kid doesn't trust easily. He definitely doesn't take chances on people who can't defend themselves."
"How is he the one who makes those decisions?" Hill asked, leaning forward. "Is he not your son-in-law?"
The old man's expression grew serious.
"Don't question me, boy. If you want to stay here, you'll need to prove yourself to him. Show him you're worth keeping around."
A weak smile crossed his weathered features.
"But don't worry. I'll make sure you get that opportunity. That valuable chance to prove yourself. But that's all I can do. The rest will be up to you."
Hill nodded slowly. It was better than being thrown out immediately.
Peshar's rings had been glowing faintly during their conversation, Hill realized. Now that light faded, and the old man seemed to shrink slightly, looking more tired than before.
"I suppose I should make arrangements for you." He clapped his hands twice, the sound echoing in the small space. "Ashen! Come here, please."
The dark-haired girl appeared in the doorway almost immediately. She must have been waiting just outside.
"Take him to Deulegarde," Peshar instructed. "She'll look after him for now. Make sure she knows the situation."
Hill's blood ran cold. "Wait. Deulegarde? As in the Deulegarde dynasty?"
Every child on Earth learned about the Deulegarde dynasty in school. The family that had nearly conquered the world. The empire that had burned country after country to ash. Kaiser Deulegarde, the tyrant emperor who'd ruled six continents before finally being pushed back.
And now there was someone with that name here? In this camp?
"Is that," Hill's voice came out strangled, "is that the same Deulegarde? From the empire?"
Peshar's expression closed off. He didn't answer, simply turned away.
"Wait, you can't be serious," Hill pressed. "The Deulegarde family? They're here? How is that even possible? Are you telling me someone from the imperial family survived the plague and ended up here?"
"Yes sir," Ashen replied to Peshar, completely ignoring Hill's questions.
"Hold on," Hill said, his voice rising. "I need to know. Is this person actually related to Kaiser Deulegarde? To the empire? Because if they are, then—"
"That's enough," Peshar said sharply. He fixed Hill with a hard look. "Ashen will take you to her. That's all you need to know right now."
"But—"
"I said that's enough." Peshar's tone left no room for argument. He turned and walked toward the door, his staff tapping against the wood. "Try to stay alive, kid. You're young. There's potential in you. I can see it, even if my brat can't."
He paused at the doorway, not looking back.
"But I recommend you try and be a benefit to us all first."
Then he was gone, leaving Hill alone with Ashen and a dozen unanswered questions.
She walked over and grabbed his wrist. Her grip was firm but not painful.
"Get up. You're meeting Deulegarde."
Hill stood on unsteady legs. His back protested where the broken stool had dug in, but he ignored it. His mind was racing, trying to process what he'd just learned.
A Deulegarde. Here. In this camp.
It has to be a coincidence, right? Just someone with the same last name, right?
But even as he tried to convince himself, doubt gnawed at him. Peshar's reaction suggested otherwise. He wasn't willing to answer his questions at all.
"Is it really her?" Hill asked as Ashen led him toward the door. "Someone from the actual imperial family?"
Ashen's face remained impassive. "You'll see soon enough."
"But if it is, then why is she here? Why would you people shelter someone from the Deulegarde dynasty? They destroyed half the world, right?"
Ashen's jaw tightened, but she didn't seem to want to respond. Her grip on his wrist tightened as well.
"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?" Hill said.
"No," Ashen replied flatly. "I'm not."
As they stepped outside the hut, Hill couldn't shake the bad feeling welling up within his gut.
He was about to potentially meet someone from the dynasty that had brought Earth to its knees.