Golden-leaved trees illuminated the inky black night around him, and they had Motus entranced. He could not tear his eyes from their majesty, so great was their beauty. Unbeknownst to him, his own golden eyes flickered an electric-blue for the briefest of moments before Wade’s hands came crashing down onto his shoulders.

  “Hey M, ready for the coolest moment of your life?” Wade asked, smiling brightly.

  “Wha—Oh.” Motus blinked, suddenly roused from his not-so-daydream. “I think so?” He said, unsure of what would come next.

  It was then, as Motus felt his attention once again being probed by the presence of those beautifully golden trees, that something miraculous happened. Green flooded his vision; it was as if the space in front of him was torn asunder. A swirling mass of green energy began to form from the apex of the trees. It grew larger and larger, coming closer to the earth beneath it. Before long, the swirl solidified into a gateway. This gateway showed a place beyond the swirl, a place far different from the open forest. It showed the inside of a cavernous structure, a tunnel of sorts. It was truly magical, and Motus found himself partially baffled but incredibly fascinated by the mysticism of it all.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” Wade asked with a cheeky grin spread across his face.

  The mischievous expression on his handsome face made it clear that this was not so much a question as it was a statement. He placed a comforting hand atop Motus’s shoulder and pulled him to a sitting position right as the truck roared to life. It erupted in a violent rush of speed that saw both young men pinned to the truck as it burst through the green gateway. Their forced meeting with the back of the truck came to an end after a few minutes, and when it did, both boys collapsed with differing levels of grace as the truck’s movement came to an abrupt halt. Wade fell forward onto his hands and was back on his feet in mere moments. Motus was not so lucky; he fell forward much like Wade; unlike Wade, however, Motus was not expecting the sudden stop and had the pleasure of his face getting to know the floor of the truck.

  Groaning in light pain and confusion, Motus asked, his voice hoarse, “A-Are we here?”

  Where exactly ‘here’ was, Motus wasn’t quite sure. Once he got his ears to stop ringing, which didn’t take as long as he felt it probably should have, he looked around. Motus realized it was dark, a massive cave that was lit in only the loosest definition of the word. The air smelled oddly clean, not as dank as one might have expected of something distinctly subterranean. However, he quickly learned that the “darkness” only encompassed where he was looking, out from the back of the truck, down the long stretch of corridor they had driven through. Once he turned around, these things changed. Now, he was greeted by bright lights glinting from sleek silver metal.

  Amber colored eyes shimmered with childlike intrigue. Motus felt as if he had been catapulted into something truly fantastical. Large cavernous walls gave way to a metallic hangar of sorts. A place to store vehicles, he thought, if the sudden runway was any indication. It was well lit, allowing the young boy to gaze at strange devices illuminated by silver, metallic torches; torches that burned with azure flames. It was a strange, bizarre, cross between futuristic and archaic. Wooden panels intertwined with metal screens, manned by individuals who did not seem much older than him.

  Older boys and girls with glowing ghostly-white eyes seemed almost entranced as they pored over their metal screens. However, as Motus looked longer, he realized they were looking at a strange silver orb. It was nearly twice as large as his head and covered in strange, intricately swirling lines and markings.

  The longer he looked at the orb, the more the world seemed to swirl around those strange lines; it was a whirlpool for his consciousness. His perception spun, and nausea overtook him, right as darkness lapped at the edges of his vision, a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. The stinging sensation and booming sound jolted him to attention and tore his gaze away from the strange sphere into Wade’s earthy brown eyes.

  “Don’t look at it too long; only those nerds can do it without going crazy. Who knows, it might liquefy your brain.” Wade said with a grin on his face that greatly contrasted the words he spoke.

  “Wait, what?—” Motus panicked, suddenly all too aware of the light stinging in his eyes.

  All he got in response was laughter, laughter that did nothing for him in the way of comfort. Wade simply indicated he should follow along with a half-wave before bounding off with his hands in his pockets, deeper into the base. They traversed down a sleek black-walled hallway lit by those same silver torches. Motus nearly tripped over his own feet in his attempt to follow. The two boys walked for some time before Motus noticed just how few people manned these halls. He saw fewer than twenty people in their entire walk; it was bizarre. From the way Wade spoke of it, he expected the place to be bustling. It might as well have been a ghost town.

  “Uh, Wade, Sir—” He began before being cut off with a near-chirp-like rebuttal from Wade.

  “It’s just Wade,” Wade said with a grin clear in his words, even if his back was turned.

  “—Wade, where is everyone? It’s almost empty.” Motus spoke with confusion leaking from every syllable.

  “Ah, they’re around, though honestly, even once you meet ‘em all, there aren’t that many of us.” There, in his words, was the briefest note of melancholy. It was wholly out of place in Wade’s voice.

  Motus had known Wade for only some odd hours, but even he could tell that wasn’t right. As quickly as the sorrow had come for Wade, it seemed to melt away as they reached their destination. A sleek metal door with the stylized ‘U’ carved into its center. The door opened with a dull ‘swish’ as Wade waved his hand over it, revealing a large room with several beds; a few were slightly messy, but the vast majority were empty, almost cold. They were well kept but lifeless; if those beds had ever seen use, Motus could tell it had been a long time since then. He opened his mouth to pose a question, to ask what they were doing here, perhaps, but he was cut off by Wade’s easy-going smile being directed to him before he spoke.

  “This’ll be like your dorm for a bit, not long, promise. Just until you meet with the Commander and talk. For now, rest up.” Wade said in a way that Motus couldn’t really find it in him to argue with.

  As the older boy walked away, Motus found himself wondering if this was what having an older brother was like. It was an oddly comforting thought to him as he walked towards one of the untouched beds. He sat down and found that he was correct; no one had touched this bed in quite some time, and it was cold to the touch; nevertheless, he lay his head on the pillow and yawned softly. Motus sank into the otherworldly softness, and near instantly, he felt his fatigue encroach upon him. The stress of the day, paired with the confusion, had drained him more than he realized, and try as he might to fight it, sleep was proving to be the strongest foe he had ever faced.

  As sleep claimed itself the victor and Motus drifted off, he found himself wondering if Mr. Mansion had even noticed he had left. It left a sickly, almost bitter taste in his mouth as the realization that the man probably hadn’t. As darkness came for Motus, his thoughts shifted to what might happen when he awoke. What would he do if this Commander decided he wasn’t worth the effort? Would he send him back? The heavy nature of his thoughts did nothing to stop him from finally drifting into the warm embrace of sleep as exhaustion claimed him. Whatever happened next, he would face it when he awoke.

  Golden eyes snapped open as a musical voice riddled with laughter filled the night air, “Motus!” it called, the voice was soft, soothing in its tone, washing away the peaceful rest of the sleeping boy with all the ease of a knife through warm butter. Motus looked towards the door of the dark room with bleary eyes. He rose with a groan and slowly rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure he had slept that well before, ever. Once his vision righted itself, he saw Wade standing—no, leaning—against the door frame. Gone was the forest-colored cloak he had been wearing in the woods the day prior; in its place was simply the long-sleeved black shirt that had been beneath it. He had that same easygoing smile on his face that seemed ever-present.

  “C’mon, Boss Man wants to see you,” Wade spoke brightly, uncaring that he had jolted the other boy awake.

  Motus slowly got out of bed but found himself uneasy at the slow pace he was setting for himself. Once the sleepiness had faded, a rush of energy moved to take its place. Standing still had him tapping his foot, and even as he moved to the door, he did so at a half-jog—he wasn’t quite sure why, it just felt right. Standing still made him almost nervous.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “Where are we going?” Motus questioned softly.

  “You’ll see, Boss isn’t too far from here, actually, just down the hall and a left or three.” Wade snickered as they walked.

  The brown-eyed young man wasn’t blind to the obvious nervous energy that Motus exhibited whenever he wasn’t moving; it lent some credence to his theory as to the younger boy’s parentage, but it also made him curious.

  He idly considered, only for his thoughts to grind to a halt as he realized he never actually explained that to Motus.

  As he led Motus through the twists and turns of the many coal colored hallways of their quaint base of operations, he muttered an apology far too quietly for Motus to hear—“My bad.”

  Before too long, mere minutes after they began walking, they stood before twin silver doors that stretched much taller than the two boys. Wade gestured with both hands to the door before grinning down at Motus.

  “After you,” Wade said with a smile that made it clear he had no plans of following him through that door.

  “O-okay.” Motus stammered out in his nervousness.

  The walk here had been near torturous for Motus; it was a few minutes, he knew that—but it felt like it dragged on for hours—more than that, it made him nervous in ways that had his heart threatening to leap from his chest. There he stood in front of doors that towered over him, doors that seemed so much larger under the cloak of fear. The realization of the sheer magnitude of what had to have been a simple door made the entire situation suddenly much more real. Panic set in, and fear came for the boy like a dark specter in the night.

  ‘What if I say the wrong thing? What if I trip over my words? What if I—’

  Motus’s thoughts spiraled darker and darker. Fear seized his heart like icy shackles, but then, a firm hand patted his back and interrupted his mind. Gold met brown, and Wade gave him a reassuring grin before pointing at the door.“You’ll be fine, relax, and just listen to what he has to say. You’re safe here, man.” Wade said simply and self-assuredly. That confidence was infectious; in a few moments, Motus felt his breathing return to normal.

  “I’ll be fine.” He muttered to himself, nodding slowly.

  Motus gathered his newfound confidence, holding it close to his chest before it slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. He took a single deep breath before he pushed on the doors; he found them surprisingly light for their size. He half expected to be unable to move their weight. However, the doors swung open easily and revealed the room to him. It was dark save for the light of a screen illuminating a large almond shaped table, surrounded by several chairs.

  As Motus took his first steps into the room, the doors swung shut behind him; he heard the click of something closing, but he couldn’t manage to pay it any attention. Sitting in the darkened room was a man. The moment the door clicked, dark brown eyes pulsed a burning orange that illuminated his face further. The man closed a strange device he was looking at with a dull ‘thump’ before snapping his fingers; his eyes took on a burning orange glow so fierce it overpowered what the screen had been doing prior.

  The small ‘snap’ coincided with every torch in the room igniting in brilliant orange flame at once. The flames danced briefly before the metal torches dyed them a bright blue. With the room now well lit, Motus could properly see the man Wade had simply called “Boss.” He was a stern man with shockingly bright, silver hair. His beard and brows matched his hair so well that Motus couldn’t even entertain the thought that it might have been dyed.

  “Y-you wanted to see me, Sir?” Motus spoke with all the confidence of a newborn lamb.

  The silver-haired man rose from his chair, and Motus immediately felt small, his confidence gone like smoke. He was large, not inhumanly so, but far larger than the young boy. The fires of the various torches seemed to flicker to their original orange as he stood before being dyed blue once more. As the man silently walked towards him, Motus couldn’t help but notice the forest green cloak hanging from the chair he had been sitting in; it reminded him of Wade’s own similarly colored cloak. Did Wade wear a cloak like this man? Or was this man emulating Wade? Motus couldn’t quite place why, but the latter seemed far less likely. He was drawn from his thoughts by a voice that sounded nearly as stern as the man looked. It was a low, deep sound that commanded his attention.

  “Correct, tell me your name, child.” The Commander said gruffly.

  “M-Motus, Sir, Motus Lakir.” Motus half-shouted in his nervousness.

  “Lakir.” The Commander repeated the word, slowly, as if the letters were foreign on his tongue.

  Silver eyebrows tensed in barely visible confusion; however, the emotion was hidden swiftly, not visible for more than a moment. The Commander offered Motus a still stern, but decidedly more approachable smile.

  “Good morning, Motus. My name is Enka, Commander Leonidas Enka. I am something of a leader for the Falem that take refuge here.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, setting a pace that was easy for Motus to follow.

  “I am sure by now Wade or Zemora will have told you what you are, so I will instead tell you what happens now.”

  Motus felt a small feeling of dread worm its way into his stomach. Is this it? Is this where they say I can’t stay, or— His thoughts were interrupted before their downward spiral could gain traction.

  “Your days will be spent training to survive. You are far from the only Falem that walks these walls, but you will find our numbers to be disappointing.

  “There will constantly be creatures that you can scarcely comprehend after your life. Beasts far stronger than you and those around you. You train to keep yourself and your fellow Falem alive.” Leonidas’ words were spoken firmly, his first command towards his newest—unwitting as he may have been—soldier. Motus responded accordingly.

  “Y-yes, sir!” Motus’s response was drenched in fear and confusion, but he called out firmly; he didn’t want to see people hurt, but it was clear that he didn’t truly know what was expected of him. It was almost commendable.

  “Ask me any questions you may have, and once they have been answered, it is time for your first bit of training. A crash course in all things Falem, as Wade would put it.” The Commander spoke softly, offering the boy a chance to clear some of his confusion.

  “Who are my parents? Did they abandon me? What are those monsters? They almost look human, but they obviously aren’t so—” Motus leaped at the chance to ebb his confusion; he spat out the questions rapid-fire, his words blending in one long string of unintelligible drivel.

  The dull embers of the blue torches around the room suddenly erupted in bright orange plumes of flame that lapped at the ceiling. The entire room was suddenly illuminated in a brilliant orange light and awash in a heat so suffocating that it killed the words Motus would have said next, stopping his ramble in its tracks. Moments passed in that quiet—borne of heat and fear—before the torches dimmed to a dull, subtle burn once more.

  “Calm yourself, child, you may speak your questions as I’ve given you my word they will be answered; however—” The Commander narrowed tired eyes that blazed a burning orange; pulsing periodically as though a living flame danced within them. “—speak them with purpose, not as they come to you.”

  Motus swallowed a lump that formed in his throat nervously, taking the briefest of moments to organize his scrambled thoughts. He knew two questions that cut him to the core to think about, but they were the ones he had been practically begging for answers to since he was old enough to know how great a loss he must have suffered. What he had never been allowed to experience.

  “Who were my parents? Wade—the boy with brown hair—said something that didn’t quite make sense to me, if it’s not too much trouble, I…” Motus shrank back from the fiery silver-haired man as if anticipating a strike that never came.

  “You are Falem, demigod, if I were to use a word that would mean something to you as you are now,” Leonidas said calmly, folding his arms across his chest, deep in thought. He expanded on his statement before Motus could ask another question.

  “One of your parents is a god, the other mortal. I cannot tell you who, though I am fairly certain of who it is—you must prove yourself in a trial known as The First Hunt.” Leonidas spoke, his eyes losing their burning-orange glow, settling into a warm brown.

  “The gods are real?” Motus asked, more confused than skeptical.

  “They are, however, it is unlikely to be the ones you are thinking of. The gods of mortal texts and stories are often a fusing of two or more of our own.”

  Motus opened his mouth as if to ask another question, but seemed to think better of it as he closed his mouth soon after, brows scrunched in deep thought. Before long, the golden-eyed boy seemed to decide on a question to ask.

  “What is the first hunt? The way you said it makes it sound incredibly important.” Motus asked.

  A moment of pride settled over the Commander’s features at Motus’s moment of pragmatism. “The First Hunt is simple in theory, but perhaps among the hardest challenges you will have to face in your hopefully long life.” Leonidas began grimly, his features set in a deep scowl. “You will train for a time, hopefully awaken your first gift and then you will be sent to the realm of your godly parent—” Motus moved to ask a question but a flash of orange from the older-man’s eyes turned the question to ash before it ever left his lips, clearly Motus thought better of it. “—no I cannot tell you who they are even then, until you prove yourself, you will not get their name. Upon entering their realm, you are tasked with two things, chief among them, survival. You must survive your time in the realm, survive long enough to slay a beast of your choice that roams that realm.” Leonidas paused for a moment to allow the question he knew was forming on the young man’s tongue to spill forth.

  “Wait, I have to kill an animal? Why? Does it have to be something large?” Motus asked, eyes wide, glimmering like amber.

  “You will need to kill far worse than mere animals if you wish to live the long life I hope for all of the falem under my charge to have,” Leonidas said gruffly, before his tone softened. “To answer your other question, it does not have to be, but I would implore you not to go for low-hanging fruit. The beast you kill—creatures known as falion beasts—will be forged into the weapon that will be at your side for the foreseeable future. Choose a beast that will not challenge you, and you will wield a weapon of similar strength.”

  Motus’s skin grew pale as the words sank in, and for the first time since stepping onto the back of that truck oh so many hours ago, this felt real. The Commander’s next words did little more than make the growing pit in Motus’s stomach even deeper.

  “Now, your questions have been answered. Follow me, your training begins now. Let us see if I can get your gift to reveal itself.”