The mural swung shut behind the group of boys with a loud thud, snuffing out all chattering like the flame of a candle. They regarded the Colonel and General for a moment before turning their attention to the rest of the room’s splendor. No surprise there. After all, it was amongst the kingdom’s top ten finest collectors rooms, according to the renowned blog Luda Mentis. Dillo applauded. “Well done, boys! You’ve completed all three floors of my tutorial dungeon!” Dillo said. “Did you all have fun?” The boys looked at each other in a questioning and confused sort of way. The one who called himself Zephyr stepped forward. “What’s going on, exactly?” General Voldenic brushed Dillo aside. “You…” was all he said. The brooding man stared at Zephyr with eyes bearing the smolder of hatred. Then everything got incredibly heavy. Literally. In an instant, all the boys were slammed to their hands and knees. Even Dillo almost was. He barely held himself upright by his thighs. “Whoa, General,” Dillo spoke through clenched teeth. The gravity was too great to open his mouth with the normal ease required of conversation. “Remember, these are your soldiers now.” “Quiet.” With an extra gravitational push, Dillo too was slammed to the floor to join the others. He looked up to see a variety of reactions to the invisible force. Some were scared while others were in curious awe. Some fought to stand back up and then there was Zephyr, who stayed calmly pressed like a pancake. “Do you know me?” Zephyr asked. The General stared at the boy for a while, then at the other children groaning under the pressure. He ignored Zephyr entirely. “There is one more test for you all to pass.” “More games?” said a boy covered in freckles. “Oooo, do we need to get lighter somehow?” asked a boy with big blue eyes. A boy with curly blonde hair was trying to suck in a huge breath but exhaled with a gasp. “Let's try to float back up like balloons!” “Do you guys smell food?” another said. There was a flurry of sniffs. Suddenly all the boys were frantically wiggling on the ground towards the dining table. General Voldenic balled his fists and slammed them together. There was a flash of light from his Halo that condensed into a line behind his head instead of fading. The line of dense light split into eight parts and snapped themselves around the boy's necks, solidifying into black chokers so heavy that their chins smacked the floor. “None of you moves unless I tell you to move,” said General Voldenic, stepping over Zephyr so that all he could see was his foot. “Understood?” After the sounds of choked agreement, he continued. “I will explain my test. If you pass, you will be granted a history and future. If you fail, you will have neither.” There was silence. Dillo smacked his forehead on the ground, with the added help of Voldenic’s gravity. This is not how you gain allegiance, he thought. He expected a few whimpers among the children, but they never came. He wondered if they realized what he meant. “You will be first,” Voldenic said. A black choker picked one of the boys up to his feet. He had a shaggy mop of dirty blonde hair and large blue eyes. The choker pulled him towards the General and the boy had to step around the others still on the ground with his head locked on a steady course. Once a foot away, the boy was stopped. He stared at the General’s badges for a long moment before looking up to meet the man’s stone gaze. A thin white line, like a string about the length of a face, appeared between the boy and General. “This line now exists because I believe it does,” explained General Voldenic. He looked over the boys to be sure he still had their attention. They were all looking up the best they could. Of course, Zephyr could see nothing from underneath. “The Halos behind the crowns of your heads are indicators that you are connected to Artideus. It is He who gives us the power to shape reality by our will, to bend, mold and change it with our faith and skill. This is called Casting. But what happens when conflicting beliefs meet? Say, if I believe this line to be straight and you believe the line to be bent?” Silence for a moment. “Whoever believes it more wins?” said the boy with big eyes. “Wrong. Whoever Artideus decides believes it more wins. To pass this test you must bend this line that I believe is straight. This is an internal argument of logic and will, with Artideus presiding over us as a divine judge. You must--” The line squeaked as it bent at the top. The room went silent. “Look, it bent just like I wanted,” said the boy. The enhanced gravity wavered for a brief moment as the General looked at the bent line in shock. He said nothing for a while, staring at the bent line like a complex question. He looked almost… worried. “You pass,” he said finally. “Cool!” the boy looked over at the table covered in platters of food, his big eyes widening further. He took a step towards it but took it back immediately after, touching the choker around his neck. He looked up at the General, nervous. “If I try to eat, will I get choked again?” “No. You may eat.” The boy yipped in glee and the other boys began wriggling on the floor against their chokers saying “me next, me next.” The big-eyed boy proceeded to jump on the table, knocking over silverware before shoving his face into a bowl of candied sweet potatoes. “Mind your manners!” the General barked. The boy lifted a face smeared in caramelized brown sugar. “What are those? Should I eat that first?” Dillo’s lungs suddenly filled with air in a gasp as the pressure pinning him to the floor lifted. The General then commanded him to get the boy off the table and show him how to eat properly. One after another, the boys passed the test, eyes alight with excitement as they got their seat at the feast. Thank goodness the General was at least giving the children a chance. Dillo knew that if he really wanted the kids dead, he could have kept that line straight until his final breath or would have given them a much harder test. He worried that may happen. But for now, it seemed as though the children were making the expected impression. Maybe the General trusted Dillo more than he expected. Zephyr was the final boy left and Voldenic stepped back to lift the boy up. Dillo pulled a seat back and ushered another boy to the table who had just effectively folded the line in half. He skipped sitting and snagged a turkey leg, chomping into it viciously. They were a poorly mannered lot, but endearing all the same. Dillo moved to get the final seat ready for Zephyr when he noticed a problem. There were three empty seats set for the children. He scanned over the boys feasting with rabid intensity. Two were missing. He pulled a screen into existence displaying an empty third level, then an empty second, and first. No one was left in the dungeon. He scanned over the boys to see who was missing. It would be nice if they all had names. It would be far easier to do a roll call if--Jace and Satch, it suddenly hit him. Where were Jace and Satch? He flipped through his screens again. Still nothing. Were they still in their room? If they couldn’t get out of that, then there was no way they would be able to pass the General’s test. If that happened… He dismissed the thought and pulled up the screen of test room three. They weren’t there. Dillo let out a sigh of relief. There was a large hole blown in the wall. How elegant. “Zephyr! Do something cool!” said the boy with freckles. “It’s da finale!” said the curly blonde boy with a mouth full of pudding. The General and Zephyr stared each other down. The cold anger in the General's eyes was back. It was repressed, but definitely still there. And by the shaking of the line between them, it didn’t look like he planned on going as easy on the last boy. Zephyr was trying to bend the line and the General was really fighting back this time. “Having trouble?" Voldenic asked. Zephyr stayed focused on the line. “The others seemed to do just fine,” Voldenic added. The line suddenly grew two more lines out of itself near the top, spreading out little fingers to form stick-figure hands. The hands then grabbed the bottom of the line. “I just wanted to be a bit more creative,” Zephyr said as the arms pulled up and bent the line. The boys erupted in cheers. General Voldenic kept his steely gaze on Zephyr, who didn’t wait for an invitation to take his seat at the table. He walked casually to greet his cheering peers, taking his seat and welcoming the other’s flurry of recommendations of what to eat first. Dillo slid into one of the two open seats, pushing himself back with a long stretch that just so happened to hide the final empty seat from the General. *** “You!” The big man said as he swung his arms out to grab the frightened Satch, but the boy jumped back just out of reach, chucking the piece of rubble into the man’s face. It hit with a puff of powdered debris and the towering man shook it off, only angered further. “So you broke those glasses!” The ring of light behind his head flared as something began to materialize in his hands. “Satch, jump to the right!” Jace threw himself feet first into the man’s back. He didn’t launch the lug like he envisioned but still sent him stumbling forward. Right into Satch, who curled into the fetal position instead of following instructions. But that worked out for the best. The man tripped and tumbled down the stairs, screaming a variety of words Jace had never heard before, and crashed into the pile of rubble beneath. Jace grabbed Satch by the collar, pulling him away. “I thought you left me,” Satch said. “Me too,” said Jace, shutting the door after them. He pulled one of the seats over to fit under its handle. It didn’t look like it would do much to hold the big man back if he got back up the steps, but he may have been injured enough by the fall that it would at least slow him down a bit. Jace took a deep breath and looked around the room. It was full of all sorts of oddities to examine, but that would be for later. He focused on the door at the room’s opposite end. Those other guys in the shiny uniforms had information about what was going on. They knew why he couldn’t remember anything. They had the answers to the questions that Jace gave up on searching for before he even knew it. But now that he knew there were answers, he wanted them. Where are they? Who are these people? Why were his memories of people, places, and situations the only parts that were gone? What in the world was Artima and these rings of light behind everyone’s heads? But most importantly, what did they mean about them being talented? And how would they form them into champions? Jace liked that word. Champion. He glanced over at Satch. Based on his expression, he seemed to be thinking somewhat similarly to Jace, just a bit more nervously about it. Jace started towards the door leading to a descending spiral staircase. Satch followed, receiving an elbow nudge. “No more hesitating, all right?” Jace said, coolly. Satch nodded. “Yeah.”