AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Just before it can cross that final distance, I slip into the darkened interior. I catch a glimpse of steep, spiraling stairs that fall into the earth beneath me before the last fragments of light are snuffed out, the secret door snicking shut. The cool air sends a chill through me, goosebumps pebbling on the skin beneath my robe as I’m robbed of my sense of sight. An earthy, damp, musty smell invades my nostrils, and I immediately miss the clean air of the library. This feels too close to being buried in a coffin beneath the ground. Too close to my impending death at the hands of these elitist cannibals—assuming I don't trip and fall down this stairwell to hell.
My hand brushes over cold, uneven stone as I cautiously descend the winding staircase. The smell of death and doom only becomes more potent the deeper into the earth I go. I swear it didn’t smell this bad last time.
Just when I’m beginning to feel like the darkness is never going to spit me out, a flicker of light from somewhere farther below reaches me, and slowly the world comes back into view as I hurry down the rest of the steps.
When my foot finally hits the hard rock of solid ground, I look up, taking in the tall stone walls rising high above me until they form a pitched roof. We must be far underground now, which would explain the biting cold of the stale air. I recognize the chamber as the one I woke up in the last time. The room where they seemingly hold their conclaves and perform any other nefarious secret cult acts.
“Welcome, new initiate,” a deep, booming voice calls out, seeming to echo off the walls and rattle in my ears as though it’s coming from everywhere all at once.
Tearing my gaze from the ceiling, I immediately spot the black sea of cloaks as they spill into the room from various other secret entrances, until I’m surrounded on all sides.
Turning in a full circle, I realize I’m alone in the center, the other two seniors from before apparently not having made it this far.
“You have passed the three trials. Are you ready to dedicate your life to the vision of the King’s Elite?”
Ehhh, what now?
I turn to face the same black cloak with gold stitching as last time. The guy is clearly in charge of running this show. Like before, all I can see are shadows beneath his hood, although I can feel his penetrating stare boring into me, along with the pinprick sensations of everyone else’s eyes on me. It’s disconcerting, to say the least.
His inauspicious question is met with a ringing silence, and I realize everyone is waiting for me to answer.
Well, fuck.This feels like one of those defining moments in life. Say no, and you return to your safe, regular life; however, I’ll miss out on the opportunity to ever meet the rest of my family. Say yes, and—assuming I’m not murdered and feasted upon—I might finally learn why I am the way that I am.
“Yes.”
It’s that quest for answers that pushes the word from my mouth, even though I have no idea what the hell I’m signing myself up for.
“Then come forward and vow your allegiance to the King’s Elite. Vow to trust in your brothers. Vow to dedicate your life to your King.”
Jeez, this is just getting more sinister by the second, but I’ve already said yes, so there is no backing out now.
Tentatively, I step forward until I’m standing in front of Mr. Gold Cloak.
“Bow before your King.”
I grind my teeth, getting increasingly pissed off with this pretentious bullshit. Who the fuck is this guy? Calling himself a king, yet he’s hiding out in underground caves, cowering behind his mask of shadows. I keep my head bowed so he can’t see exactly what I think as I kneel at his feet.
“Do you, Wilder Clearwater, hereby pledge to do your duty of carrying out the mission of the King’s Elite henceforth? To obey your King’s orders without question, and to put the King’s Elite and our goals above any personal endeavors?”
“I do.”
"And do you swear to uphold our laws? To abide by our rules and carry out our bidding as our faithful servant?"
As their what?! This is just getting fucking ridiculous now.
“I do,” I grit out.
“Then, with the sealing of a blood oath, I welcome you into the open arms of the King’s Elite.”
One of the silver-stitched cloaks hands him a small, ornamental-looking blade while the other holds out some sort of golden chalice.
Holding his hand over the cup, he slices a small line into his palm. Once enough blood has dripped into the cup, he holds the knife out for me.
I stare confounded at it for a second, before reaching out and taking it, repeating the action as a sharp sting of pain flares to life. It barely feels like more than a papercut. Nothing in the grand scheme of the pain I’ve endured; that I’m currently suffering.
The chalice is held out toward me, and I hold my hand over the top of it, my blood joining his.
Satisfied, the gold-cloak guy swirls the chalice, mixing our blood.
