Ashes of the Elite

It's been another hour, maybe more, of trudging through the snow only now it's coming down in sheets, thick and relentless, turning the air to a swirling, blinding white. My boots are soaked, my toes numb, and my mood is blacker than the night sky back home. In my head, I curse the proctors with every insult in my arsenal, mentally flaying them alive for subjecting me to this. Bastards. Cunts. Whores. Sons of bitches. I hope they choke to death or get conveniently blown up that would be amazing.

Sadly even with these conditions we can't stop. Not yet. We're still nowhere near the base of the mountains and we need to cross those too before the end of the week. What a god damn impossible task. It's like they want us to fail and die miserable deaths.

So we keep moving, heads down, faces buried in collars, suffering. Then the ground underfoot starts to change less of the open, frozen field we started on and more uneven, with tufts of grass poking through the snow and patches of hard, root-tangled earth. I'm so focused on keeping my footing in the pilling snow that I almost miss the shift at first. But then something in the air changes. The wind dies down a little, and the whiteout thins. I look up, blinking snow from my lashes, and shaking it from my hair then my heart stutters in my chest.

Towering shapes loom ahead of us, stretching up and up into the swirling gray. Trees massive ones, old as time, their trunks as thick as city walls and their branches lost somewhere in the gloom above. Their bark is rough and dark, furrowed with deep grooves and clothed in shaggy moss. Roots twist above the ground like the knotted legs of ancient giants, some thick enough to climb. The forest is so dense, the snow barely makes it through the canopy, but it does even if most of it does land is caught in the lattice of branches, hanging like ghostly veils.

I'm not the only one caught off guard. The rest of House Apophis halts beside me, staring up in awe and confusion. Elijah leans in, his hand outstretched to shield his face from the wind, his breath puffing in the cold. "What the fuck?" he says, voice hushed, almost scared. "How are there woods here? How did we not see these fucking trees from further back?"

I shrug, forcing a mask of nonchalance over my own surprise. "I'm not sure, but these trees are fucking massive." And they are ancient, primeval things, the kind of trees you only read about in stories. Their trunks are a patchwork of deep brown and silver, so wide that two men couldn't wrap their arms around one. The forest floor is a tangle of ferns, dead leaves, and thick, wet moss and snow.

Zaria and Vihaan appear at our sides, as do Lucian, Joon-ha Kim, and a handful of the others the so-called "wannabe leaders" as I've already started to think of them, always quick to gather at the first sign of something out of the ordinary. Zaria folds her arms, her gold eyes focused. "Well, this is odd," she says, eyeing the woods with clear suspicion.

Lucian nods, and his voice is low but steady. "Indeed. But we have no choice. We must continue." His gaze sweeps the forest, taking in the shadows, the hidden spaces between the trees.

Joon-ha Kim glances around, his expression unreadable. "I don't really get how these trees seemingly appeared out of nowhere, but Lucian is correct. We don't really have a choice we must go through them even in normal circumstances we would not take such a risk."