A drizzly morning of late summer hung over the Forttown, the highest and northernmost region of Half-Valley populated entirely by senior homes. Dusty cafes, and beautiful gardens, usually filled by elderly folk playing board games, were now nearly abandoned. The few who remained sat beside the main to cheer the slow trickle of ‘Lowtowners’ trekking through Forttown.

“Hurrah for new delvers to be.” A toothless grandpa lifted his trembling cane at Felix.

A shriveled old woman with a walking frame croaked, “Urrah. Urrah.”

“Go get ‘em girl!” shouted another.

Felix gave them a thumbs up. He was dressed in his work overalls and a couple of Hannes’ old delving clothes. His backpack was packed with snacks, a thermos of spiced coffee, and a change of non-Abyssal clothes to change into after the interview.

Mom, Linda, and Hannes walked with him, while Bii pinged anxiously on Felix’s shoulder. It kept tugging on Felix’s cheek to try lure him towards the Abyss.

“What’s up with you today, Bii?” Felix scratched its head, but Bii kept on pinging.

“From what I’ve observed thus far, it might possess empathic abilities,” said Hannes. “It may be projecting the surrounding anxiety.”

“Really? Oh, that makes so much sense. Bii, why didn’t you tell us before?”

“Bibibii!” It pleaded with Felix.

He sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Can’t tone down the anxiety today. Not until this is over. Whoa… Talk about abrupt. One moment, it’s senior-town, and the next an old warzone.”

Buildings and trees just stopped.

The road was now flanked by vast slopes of naked granite scarred by craters, slash-marks, spots where stone had been transformed into iridescent crystal, and time-worn statues of people who had been turned to stone by some relic or denizen—hundreds of them.

“Times change,” said mom. “Your grandpa said Forttown used to be a trendy neighbourhood some forty years back. Said it was the place to be. Young artists. Radio celebrities. Famous delvers. Everyone wanted to be there. Supposedly it began as a joke to show Knights of the End how old-fashioned they were.”

Felix chuckled. “They sure showed them.”

First sign of the Knights of the End were a small number of piers protruding towards the Abyss. A hundred meters later, the fortress monastery, to which the piers were attached to, came into view.

It was hewn of the same granite gray as the mountain it rested against. Its walls were sloped and towers round and stubby. Cross-shaped peep-holes dotted its walls. Spines and barbed wire lined the lip of the wall. Big stone pillars similar to the one at Half-Square stood atop every tower, though instead of moss, these were covered in odd silver glyphs. The layered half-circle fortress looked like a relic from a bygone era.

Bii grew so bewildered that Felix had to let it hide in his bag.

“Poor Bii,” said Linda.

“Yeah, I don’t envy an empath during an interview...” The road up to the gate was crowded by anxious conversations. Kids one-two-three years younger than Felix fidgeted beside their family and friends. Air felt tense.

Two knights, a man and a woman, stood at the entrance, guiding the stream of people. Both were clad in the form fitting plate armor that Knights of the End were known for. Bulk of it was crafted from matte black Abyssal ceramics, carapaces, or metals. Wine-red Abyssal leather covered the areas requiring flexibility. Huge white plumes poofed out behind their chrome-visored helmets. Silverflame burned inside the copper reinforced vials hanging from their hips.

“Hi Felix,” said the female knight in a soft gentle voice that struck Felix like a gut punch from the past.

Saga’s dark blue eyes were as big and beautiful as ever. A few curly brown locks dangled over her thick brows. Her once rounded face had sharpened. Even with the armor on, Felix could tell she had gained muscles. She was doing well, and he should’ve been happy for her.

Felix tried to keep his smile natural, and said, “Hey.”

“Stairs on the left lead to the interview grounds.” Saga gestured at the wide granite steps, and, after a moment’s hesitation, added, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” said Felix.

As they climbed the stairs, Mom turned to glance at Saga over the shoulder. “She looks good.”

“Yeah…” Yes she does, mom. Thank you for pointing that out, mom. Can we not talk about Saga please? Unfortunately, mom did not possess empathic abilities.

“Maybe you’ll get to talk to her more again from now on,” she mused “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Felix nodded towards a nearby knight, “Hey, how about those armored suits? Seems even copper torches get one. Pretty neat, right?”

Stairs ended at a courtyard overlooking the Half-Valley and the Abyss. Scores of knights and half as many townspeople mingled across the flat stretch of unusually lush moss and odd plants.

“Not everyone has them.” Linda, Byss bless her heart, picked up on Felix’s plight, and helped him steer the conversation away from Saga. “Look, there’s a few who don’t.”

Amongst a group of seven knights, four wore light delving suits of Abyssal fabrics—matte black, wine-red, and chrome with white accents. They were a curious mix of utilitarian bodysuit and formal wear. Two of the lighter knights wore vests, bracers, thigh boots, and other reinforced accessories.

“I suspect it has to do with their relics,” Hannes guessed. “And fitness.”

“Right. No point in wearing armor if your relic makes it redundant.”

“Or if armor interferes with it,” Hannes added.

“Aahh…” Linda nodded.

Mom hmmed as she studied the armored figures. “You would look very handsome in that, Felix.”

“He would look cool,” Linda agreed.

Felix chuckled, embarrassed over the compliments. “Thanks for the confidence. Still have interviews and such, before I can think about which armor to pick.”

“I’d pick plate,” said Linda.

“It is safer,” mom agreed. “Girls would likely be more impressed, however, if you wore the lighter variant.”

Felix groaned. “Mom, can we not—”

“Ladies. Gentlemen. Citizens of Half-Valley. Welcome and thank you for coming here today.” A strong husky voice silenced the courtyard. Thank the Byss.

The sound came from an imposing man with peppered hair, intense pale-gray eyes, and an unnaturally perfect face. Not in the sense of handsome-perfect, his nose was too sharp. His skin just didn’t have any wrinkles, spots, or even pores.

He wore the light variant of the Knight’s armor, a black knit cap, a living-squirming scarf of sickly colored snake scales, and medallions of exotic animals. On his shoulder sat a denizen, which resembled the parrots from the books about ancient jungles. Only the colors of this parrot’s feathers were supernaturally intense, and fluctuated like flowing paint. The ensemble was so striking Felix almost didn’t notice the vial of silverflame at his hip. It burned with a red outline, and was encircled by night-black metal.

“Before we begin,” the parrot spoke with the night torch’s voice, while his face remained unmoving. “Interviewees. Move to the circle at the center of the field. Spectators. Move to the area to my left.”

Saga and a few other knights standing beside seats waved their hands at the herd of spectators. Mom snuck in a quick hug before leaving, as did Linda. Hannes gave a thumbs up and a nod.

Soon, the groups were separated. Families sat at the edge of the field with the spectating Knights. Felix stood in a chalk circle with the other twenty or so interviewees. Bii pinged inside his backpack. Aww crap.

Felix glanced at one of the older kids, a nervously shifting girl. “Hey, do you know if it’s okay to quickly run and put my backpack away?” he asked.

“Thank you,” said the night torch’s parrot. Had he even blinked once? “I am Rodmar Gunsson, Grand Templar of the West Scandie’s branch of Knights of the End. It is my honor to introduce to you my fellow interviewers.”

The parrot lifted its wing and gestured to a woman with buzz-cut standing on Rodmar’s right side. She carried herself like a soldier. Countless scars overlapped over her maturing features. Her eyes were balls of gold containing a shifting kaleidoscope of emerald patterns, mesmerizing, if a little nauseating. A vial-shaped lead torch of the Knights hung from her hip.

“Annette Siren, the Arch Templar of Half-Valley, bearer of the honorary title of Inquisitor granted to her by High Hunter Hugo himself.”

Annette glanced at Rodmar’s unmoving face. The man didn’t break his wax-doll impression or glance back, but his parrot lowered its wing and raised the left.

“Eero Roos, the Reliquist Templar of Half-Valley, and former lead torch.”

Eero was a stern-faced older man large in both shoulders and stomach. He wore a leather apron over a sleeveless shirt. Snow-white vines burrowed through his muscular arms and legs, and a few small white roses bloomed through his gray hair. Patina coated his ornately decorated copper torch.

“Before we move on, I must issue a mandatory reminder, as stipulated by the treaty between High Hunter Hugo and Sofie the Immortal. We are Knights of the End, the first and last force of mankind to stand against the Abyss. We are no common guild, or governmental organization of the Scandies, Though our histories are deeply intertwined as allies. By joining us, you discard your Scandie citizenship, and receive new identification as a templar of the Knights of the End. For most of you, this changes nothing besides a social security number, but be warned that this may restrict your ability to later join certain governmental bodies, or the Scandie military.”

The parrot sighed, and drew a deep breath. When its and Rodmar’s pale-gray eyes fixed on Felix and the interviewees, it felt as if a storm fell over them. “Now. Sons and daughters of Scandie’s, knight aspirants. You have come here to earn the right to bear the copper torch—torch of the challenger. Make no mistake. Despite being the lowest torch, coppers are anything but low. They are the men and women, whose yearning to protect us from the horrors of the Abyss goes above and beyond the common man. Smart. Strong. Brave. A copper torch must have all these to survive the Abyss. To become a Knight of the End, you must also possess honor.

“And today, we put these qualities to the test. Brace yourselves.” Rodmar flicked his right arm forward and made a fist.

“But my backpack…” Nobody heard Felix.

Dirt, moss, and plants—the entire field peeled off in a flurry of flying greenery and condensed into a medallion on the man’s palm. Screams and yelps filled Felix’s ears. He and the other interviewees fell through a thick canopy and plunged into murky water.

Water rushed up Felix’s nose. Faint shafts of lights flickered between the mass of tangled limbs and panicking interviewees, illuminating a host of silhouettes lurking in the depths of brown water: Fishes big and small, snakes, and crocodiles, all with pale-gray eyes and unnaturally hungry looks on their face.

“Round one is simple,” said a piranha beside Felix’s ear, speaking in perfect sync with every other creature in the water. “Catch a pink beetle and climb out. Be swift. Their number is limited.”

An impossibly large creature half catfish and half anaconda unwound at the bottom. Felix caught a glimpse of two glowing pink orbs at the center of its coils, before the beasts launched an assault on the submerged kids.