Page 5 of Trivium

But she made it.

And so did her best friend Rory.

Their shared goal bonded them as young teenagers, and since then, they had relentlessly pursued it together, supporting each other in the process. Their friendship quickly developed, and now she couldn’t imagine her life without Rory. She couldn’t imagine attending the Academy without Rory. She sighed. It was a blessing that they were accepted together.

Today was Ahmina’s last volunteer shift at Jarrah Central Library; the musty books and dust lined shelves had become her second home. Tomorrow she would attend Initiation at the Academy and her entire life would change forever.

Nothing would be the same after this.

Initiation was the beginning of three years dedicated to the craft of defense. Three years of learning how to work with the unpredictable, deadly magical creatures that ruled the continent and kept them sanctioned behind the Great Wall. Three years of living with some of the most competitive, athletic, intelligent, and ruthless candidates, all to become a Slayer, an Alchemist, or a Clever—one of three deadly specialties used to defend the Great Wall. Three years until she would become one of the most admired and respected citizens of Jarrah. The highest honor.

Three years of trying not to die.

Getting accepted into the Academy was honorable, yes, but it was also risky. Those who did so put their lives on the line. Once admitted, there was no turning back. Become a Defender or return to society a failure. Everyone knew that. Everyone accepted it. And the thing about those who failed was that they never recovered. How could they? No Jarrian citizen wanted to associate with them after such a public display of incompetence.

She swallowed, her throat dry. Of course, she knew the risks. She wasn’t immune to fear. Normally, she had the logic to see past it. But her letter felt like a death sentence, no matter how hard she tried to reason it away. She pulled it out from her dress pocket again and willed herself to steady her hand.

Dearest candidate: Ahmina Ori

Report to the Academy of Creature Defense at exactly mid-day on the twenty-fifth of May for Initiation. A complete list of what to bring is included.

Congratulations.

Sincerely,

Headmaster Adeyemi

Academy of Creature Defense

Ahmina counted down the hours to Initiation restlessly. She had kept her hands busy all afternoon, sorting books and printing pages. She even read a meticulously crafted text about the history of Jarrah, with a level of detail that would bore most people to sleep. But as the sun crept behind the northern rugged mountains, and a blanket of night started to settle over the city, she couldn’t stop the anxiety from creeping in.

As an orphan, Ahmina had grown up in Anastasia, the all-girls community housing on the east side of Jarrah. She learned from a very young age that becoming a Defender was her only way out of a life of poverty and servitude. It was a one-way ticket to rising in class within Jarrian society.

Not to mention, Defenders were paid very handsomely. Not that they needed it much. Their lodging, food, and basic care items were all covered by the Academy.

Anastasia gave her access to education, but after that, she was on her own. Only certain jobs were accessible to orphans—servant, cleaner, shopgirl—none of which paid well or offered any opportunity for advancement. Even volunteering in the library, one of her true passions, was a privilege of her temporary association. After graduation it would be out of reach.

But once she was a Defender, all of that would change.

On her way to the washroom to clean the ink from her hands, she bumped into the resident Librarian, Elder Muaka. Ahmina had spent an unreasonably long time in the printing room, preparing new books for release and she looked a mess.

“Ah, Ahmina, there you are.” Dark, cloudy bags hung just below her eyes. “It’s been a long day. You don’t mind finishing up, do you?” Elder Muaka asked.

Even if Ahmina wanted to, she wouldn’t say no to the Librarian who had become somewhat of a maternal figure to her. “Of course, Elder Muaka.” She bowed her head slightly. “I’m happy to.”

“There are just a few books left around to put away, not too many.” Muaka nodded as if reassuring herself that she wasn’t leaving a ton of work for Ahmina. She touched her shoulder. “Thank you, my dear.”

Ahmina gave her a soft smile in return. “Not to worry. I’m just going to wash up and then I will close up. You go on ahead.”

The Librarian’s back was hunched in a way that told Ahmina that she had endured enough for the day. “Good luck tomorrow,” Elder Muaka beamed, clutching Ahmina’s arms tightly, as if she would float away. “Very proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Ahmina choked out, tension building behind her eyes. She swore she wouldn’t cry, but saying goodbye to Muaka felt final.

Muaka, as if sensing her grief, pulled her in for a long, warm hug before bidding her farewell and disappearing out the front door.

Ahmina let out a heavy sigh as she opened the creaking washroom door. It was cramped and stuffy but it did the job. Printing pages all afternoon had left her fingernails black and ink smudges halfway up her arms.

She leaned over the sink and scrubbed her hands raw, as if she could wash away the shadows that plagued her mind along with the ink. In the dim candlelight, honey amber eyes found her in the mirror, glaring back at her as if to say nice try.