Chapter 66: Test
I stand there, gaping, struggling to connect the suffocating horror of the burning corridor with the clinical brightness of this massive room. It's as if my mind and body can't accept that I'm here, whole, with Artemis beside me alive and unscarred. Kaizen, still pale and trembling, sits slumped at my left, while Elijah's jaw is clenched tight on my right. The other first years maybe a little over twenty sit slightly to the left of us look equally dazed, their eyes flickering between the proctors and each other, trying to process what just happened.
Evanora's hands come together in a sharp clap, snapping the room back to order. "Sit down, Awakened Daath," she commands. I drop into my seat automatically, not willing to refuse. I can still feel the heat of the fire, the burn of acid sap on my skin, the press of Artemis's fading gaze as the vines closed around her throat. I have to force myself to breathe, to remember it wasn't real. Or at least, not real now.
Is this how people who fight me feel? Because damn this sucks.
With a dramatic flourish, Evanora sweeps her hand toward a slim, pale woman seated three seats down the long desk. The proctor looks barely older than me maybe a year or two at most. Her uniform is crisp, her posture regal, but something about her makes my skin crawl. She stands with a dancer's grace, brushes a cascade of white hair from her face, and fixes us with eyes the color of polished silver.
She smiles not cruelly, but with a composure that makes me feel like a child in front of a lecturing parent.
"My name is Juliet Deng," she says, her voice low. It carries a weight that belies her age and appearance. "My Mark of Power is Dreamer. It allows me to create whatever I want inside your dreams. I find it extremely useful for our house sorting purposes." Her gaze sweeps the assembled students, but when it lands on me, it lingers. "With my power, I can directly influence the scenario, and I can also bring others with me. All of us Proctors watched both groups."
A dream? An Illusion so strong even my voices didn't notice. They hiss in outrage at my accusation. I try not to let my unease show as she continues, "I will say, I am thoroughly surprised, Awakened Daath, at your group's victory."
The words take a second to register. She's addressing me directly, this beautiful, dangerous proctor with the power to mess with the reality in our drams. I scramble to my feet, bowing my head in gratitude. "Thank you, Proctor Deng. I... I appreciate your praise." I almost stutter, but catch myself, and then hoping to give those present less reason to dislike me—I add, "But I could not have defeated Weed without my team. They were... indispensable."
There's a brief silence, as if the room is weighing my humility. I feel Artemis's yellow eyes on me, and I refuse to look knowing the betrayal I'll see in them, Kaizen's ragged breathing like he is barely restraining a panic attack, Elijah's quiet approval. I keep my head down, fighting the urge to look up and see if the proctors are buying it.