The cleric smoothed the front

  of her yellow cassock and she slicked back an errant strand of

  silvering hair that had fallen into her face during the frenzied

  start to my morning training. She breathed deeply, controlled despite

  the flurry of action she had just taken to jump start the

  manifestation of powers that had laid dormant within me. The leather

  flail she had been using on me was set aside onto a table next to her

  observation chair as a warning what would happen if I let my focus

  falter and my power receded. I was not certain if she particularly

  saw it as a warning, to her it was probably just a reminder, a tool

  to help a wayward soul. I was quickly learning that she perceived my

  training situation, and perhaps life in general, very differently

  from me.

  “On your feet,” she

  commanded.

  It was always the same. The

  first step of morning training was a physical and verbal assault to

  get my powers flowing, then I was expected to work on expanding and

  contracting them until she was satisfied on my progress or I

  collapsed with exhaustion. The former rarely occurred.

  “Focus on drawing power and

  expanding your will.”

  I was mildly surprised to find

  myself able to focus a bit more on the feeling of the magic coursing

  through the core of my body. Typically right after her encouragement

  I was in too much pain to focus on much else, but either she had

  taken it easy today or I was becoming accustomed. I would have bet my

  kingship that she didn’t take it easy on purpose. Her head was

  cocked slightly to the side and a small, satisfied smile ghosted

  across her lips. I wondered if she had realized I was in less pain

  then felt a small wave of panic as I realized that might mean she

  thought a round two was appropriate. To my relief, she instead sank

  into her chair and motioned for me to hurry up and get to work with

  one hand while resting the other on the handle of the flail.

  Turning my consciousness

  inward, I reached down into my core to find it already humming and

  swirling, more active than in prior training days. The well where my

  power dwelled also felt more defined and solid, which was confusing

  since it simultaneously felt ethereal and immaterial, but I assumed

  it meant that something was strengthening, either the power or my

  ability to harness it. I sincerely hoped that I was beginning to get

  a grasp on it, perhaps that would mean that my training would become

  less brutal. I had been operating on the assumption that once I got

  more powerful and she was satisfied with my progress that her hand

  would become lighter, in a way it had been an effective motivator to

  work harder.

  “Excuse me.”

  A servant girl timidly stood

  at the door, her eyes wide with fear. Servants were expressly

  forbidden from interrupting my training and she wore on her face just

  how terrified she was that she had been sent to do so. Her eyes were

  trained firmly on the cleric like a small prey animal paralyzed with

  fear as a predator approached. Not wanting to be caught in the wrath,

  I kept focus best I could while still keeping my ear trained on what

  was happening.

  “This better be very

  important or you’re going to regret this interruption for the rest

  of your life,” the trainer snarled, hand clenching the flail as she

  considered using it on the girl.

  I had to bite my tongue at

  what I considered to be an overreaction. She was just a small girl,

  probably a few years younger than myself. Obviously she had been sent

  with the idea that the woman would not be as cruel with a little

  girl. It appeared that the servants had not quite caught on to how

  vile she could be.

  “I-I-I-” The girl was

  stuttering, her face flushing deeply as fear rose even higher choking

  the words before they could leave her lips.

  “Spit it out!”

  The cleric was threatening to

  rise to her feet and I briefly, though foolishly, wondered if there

  was anything I could do to protect the girl. I guessed that maybe for

  the shortest of moments I could distract her wrath and give the girl

  enough time to get her wits and run, though that was certain to

  reward my valor with a beating of a lifetime and the girl would only

  get a delayed sentence.

  “A- A Miss… um… Miss

  Aela wishes to see you,” the girl managed to squeak out.

  The annoyance on my trainers

  face did not vanish, but she did remove her hand from the flail and

  she nodded her head once. “Boy, go report to the priest and

  instruct him to guide your study until I return for you.”

  Confused, but happy to get a

  break from training, I carefully backed off from focusing on my core

  and relaxed my body into a normal stance. I could feel the power push

  out against me, confused on the sudden change of plans, it almost

  ached from being swelled to a height then denied use. I did not think

  it was a separate entity from myself, but it did sometimes feel like

  it acted with its own needs and desires.

  By the time my trainer had

  stood from her chair, the little girl had scurried away, perhaps

  hoping her face would be forgotten, though I highly doubted the

  cleric forgot any perceived slight against her authority. I bowed my

  head as I was expected to until she left the room, then I let out a

  long huff of air in relief.

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  There was a tickle in the back

  of my mind as a very bad idea bubble into existence. She had

  forgotten her flail on the table. Of all the different weapons she

  rotated through, it was the one I hated the most. She had explained

  that she intended to use a variety of devices on me to unlock

  different parts of my potential, though I had made the mistake of

  being more vocally in pain the first time the damned weapon had been

  used and since then it had become her tool of choice. Those kinds of

  actions made me wonder just how much she did was purely in the

  interest in my advancement and how much was for her enjoyment.

  I knew it was dangerous to

  have such thoughts and that it would be easier to just accept the

  idea that it was all of my benefit, but there was a doubt wedged deep

  into my mind that would not budge no matter how many times she

  explained to me how fortunate I was to have the Great Church look

  after me and to have her as a guide who understood my fate as walking

  the path of martyrdom. Perhaps it was true that this particular tool

  was just more effective for my training, I suppose I was making

  noticeable progress, though it just didn’t sit well with me. In

  either case, the rational side of my mind won out and I hurried along

  to go find the priest and left the flail sitting where it was.

  I wasn’t exactly sure where

  the priest wandered to before our scheduled meeting time, but his

  private quarters seemed as good a guess as any. I had hoped that

  perhaps he was already out somewhere when I rapped on his door and

  then had an excuse to wander a bit more than I was typically allowed,

  but after a moment the door swung open and the priest greeted me with

  a confused smile that slowly dissolved into a look of unease.

  “Yes, my child?” His eyes

  searched behind me up the hallway leading away from his room like he

  expected me to have been the bait to a trap.

  “I was told to come have you

  begin my studies until I am fetched for training again,” I

  explained.

  He looked at me a long moment,

  but then motioned for me to step into his quarters. It seemed strange

  to me that he would choose to have our session there, but any change

  of scenery was welcome. I rarely saw any of the castle anymore

  outside of the areas I was scheduled to be in.

  The inside of his room was

  less plain than I would have expected for a priest, though I didn’t

  exactly know where I had gotten that assumption from. Paintings

  depicting various recognizable scenes from various myths and legends

  hung on his walls, each looking fairly old, the style of many of them

  was not one that I had seen before. Most paintings in the castle were

  fairly realistic, but the ones in this room were more stylized while

  still trying to depict real events. The faces were more exaggerated

  and gestures a bit more grandiose though I could tell they were still

  trying to convey an event that actually happened.

  “Something interrupted your

  training?” His voice was worried, he wasn’t even trying to hide

  it.

  “Someone requested they

  speak with my trainer,” I explained, “she didn’t seem happy

  about it, but went anyway.”

  “Did you happen to catch a

  name?”

  “I think it was Aela,” I

  answered.

  The priest’s face went pale

  and he sat on the edge of his bed, looking at me with a serious

  expression. He did not speak, instead looked me over, the intense

  look on his face drawing more and more grim as the seconds ticked by.

  “As I feared,” he said

  quietly.

  “What have you feared?” I

  asked.

  The priest took a deep breath

  in, then let it out slowly as if collecting his thoughts before

  speaking. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now what I say, my fate

  will be the same.” He chuckled like it was a dark joke. “Remember

  how I told you that some people use the facade of the Church to hide

  the darkness in their hearts?”

  I nodded, there was no way I

  could forget such lesson, it had been counter to everything else I

  had been told.

  “Good, never forget that. I

  believe you are currently a helpless lamb in the hands of lions, they

  will try to break and manipulate you for their own desires, not for

  the greater good as they should.” The priests face darkened and he

  stood and approached me, embracing me in a warm hug. “I doubt that

  I will see you again, but don’t be sad about that, I’m glad I’ve

  had this time with you to provide a little guidance and perhaps set

  things in motion to where you will not just be a mindless pawn.” He

  stepped back from me and gave me a wan smile, then ruffled my hair.

  “I remember you as the small babe that I had the honor of baptizing

  into the true goodness and light, please don’t let them snuff that

  from you.”

  Before I could reply anything,

  the door to the priest’s room slammed open and I didn’t need to

  turn around to know who it was, I was well accustomed to her aura of

  fury.

  “Priest,” she spat out

  with contempt, “I need a word with you.”

  Despite the fear that had been

  evident on his face a moment before, he now looked at her with

  defiance and calm. “As you wish, I am always glad to speak with a

  sister of the light. It’s been a pleasure, as always, Florin.” He

  glanced to me and gave me a sincere smile that conveyed his

  acceptance that it was his final goodbye.

  “Boy, to the training room

  and wait for me, no questions,” she barked with barely contained

  rage.

  Knowing

  better than to question or protest, I bowed and left the room, making

  it most of the way down the hallway before a screech of rage rose

  goosebumps down my spine. I kept walking despite the sounds of harsh

  thumps, the kind I knew far too well and I picked up the pace to try

  to escape the sound, though it seemed to follow me, taunting me until

  I was in a full run. Still the sounds did not fade and I could even

  hear the pained groans and gurgling coughs of the priest as the

  thumps became sickly wet sounding. The hallways were a blur as I ran

  trying to escape, begging my ears to fail and give me peace. Now in

  the training room with the door closed and far away from the priest’s

  room, I could hear what was happening still clear as if I had never

  left. I pressed my hands to my ears and hummed hoping to drown it

  out, but it did nothing to help, the sound felt like it coming from

  directly inside my head. Tears poured down my face as the gasps and

  cries of the priest cut off and the thumps became less frantic and

  finally stopped.