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We travel to the far end of the academy, and I turn to Halen. “What’s down here? I noticed it’s not even on the maps.”
“We first-years don’t know much. We’re only allowed to go to the weapons room.”
Curiosity burns. “Really?”
“Yeah. We got a whole spiel during orientation. Don’t go snooping, don’t ask questions, blah, blah, blah. Basically, we’ll find out when they want us to.”
“Now I really want to know.”
“Right?”
We come to a large door made of dark stone with carvings of various weapons lining the entire thing. “This must be it.”
“How could you tell?” Halen chuckles then pushes it open.
It’s about twice the size of the gym and basically looks the same except for the padded walls on one side and dark cabinets on the other.
We enter, and I look around for the teacher. He’s nowhere to be seen. I lean closer to Halen and whisper, “Hopefully this isn’t a joke. I don’t want to get in trouble for being here.”
Before she can respond, a merman appears from behind one of the enormous cabinets. He’s tall and muscular and wears a form-fitting shirt that matches his shiny indigo tail perfectly. It looks like it’s all one piece. He wipes his brow and comes over. “You must be Marra.”
“Yes, and you must be Mr. Brant.” I hold out my hand.
He doesn’t shake it. “I don’t have a lot of time. We need to figure out which weapon chooses you.”
“Chooses me?”
“That’s how it works.” Mr. Brant sighs like I’m putting him out. “Follow me.”
At least this should be interesting.
He yanks open a cabinet, revealing a plethora of killing machines.
I can’t help but wonder how many lives these things have taken. “What do I do?”
“Are any of them calling to you?”
I bite my tongue. How in Hades would I know if a weapon is calling to me?
Mr. Brant taps his foot. Halen nudges me.
I inch toward the cabinet, staring at the weapons—swords, knives, darts, maces, bows, spears, daggers, and even a scythe. Despite my apprehension, I have to admit this stuff is really cool.
“Well?” Mr. Brant asks.
“Um, how do I know if one calls to me?”
“You’ll know.”
Wow, that’s super helpful. I move closer and reach for the scythe. Nothing. I hold my palm out toward a spear. Again, nothing.
“Try a dart.” He sounds so annoyed.
I swim closer and reach for a dart, then a sword. Nothing. Then I try a mace. Maybe my best friend and I will have the same weapon.
Nope.
“Well?” Mr. Brant crosses his arms.
