Duty: The Trial

A teenage girl wishes to become a Hunter, a part of the most elite assassination group in the Realm. However, she must first complete a trial to be accepted.

THEIR FOOTSTEPS echoed throughout the vast stone hall. The area was illuminated by the gentle fire of the torches hanging from the walls. Shadows danced along their side as they made their way towards the powerful oak doors, which guarded the secrets within. Before the doors stood a wiry man, doubtlessly older than twenty. Yet his face was shrouded by a dark cowl and his eyes glistened from beneath in the light of the torches. Upon seeing the duo approach he moved his hand towards the pommel of his blade but otherwise, remained steady as stone.

“Who approaches?” he asked, his voice unwavering.

Both of them hesitated.

“Loak and Lancoste” the male replied.

The man gave them a bored look and immediately diverted his gaze.

“Who approaches?” he repeated, his voice deprived of emotion.

“John Loak and Camille Lancoste” the boy once again answered.

This time the man shook his head. “Who are you?”

Suddenly, the boy’s female companion interrupted him before he could answer again. She took off the glove of her right hand and exposed a deep, red scar. Her heavenly light, blonde hair dropped upon her mesmerising, intelligent blue eyes. The man regarded the gesture and simply nodded.

“You may pass” he stated and moved away from the doors. His hand dropped from his sword.

The boy regarded his friend with a shocked look. She grinned in return and put her glove back on. As they pushed the doors open, she spoke to him.

“How could you have forgotten?” she asked, her voice filled with authority, deep, yet feminine.

“Stress, I guess.” He remarked, scratching his arm in embarrassment.

She let out a giggle. “Let’s just hope that you do not forget your brain when the test comes.”

He let out a snort. “Do you  know what it looks like?” he asked “The trial I mean.”

“No clue.” She replied “All I know is that is different for everyone.”

With that, they entered a large, circular room. A cold wind blew past them, setting the hairs on their arms and necks up and forcing their bodies to shiver. The round area was crafted out of white and black marble, unlike the previous hall. A large oculus filled the celling, letting the mysterious moonlight enter the area and illuminate it. The light seemed to be drawn towards a sizeable well in the middle of the room. The waters were still and emanated a delicate, white smoke. Before the well stood two people. An old woman and an even older man. Their faces were concealed beneath cowls and they wore dark brown robes. What was visible of their bodies, showed old skin, scarred from the many years of Hunting. and battles. Both of them could have once been handsome, but now, only shallow husks remained.

Camille surveyed the area and gasped. On the sides of the room she saw dark creatures, hastily moving across the walls. Their whole body was composed of living shadows and they scurried across the stone like spiders, searching for prey. Their fingers presented to be razor sharp. Then, one of them turned their heads in her direction. Camille nudged back and her eyes widened. The creature had no face. A plain, blank sheet covered its head and dark, shadowy smoke emanated from the sides. It tilted its head, as if it were able to see her despite having no eyes. Suddenly, it diverted its head and scurried off to complete whatever task it was set to fulfil.

“There is no reason to be afraid of the Faceless” spoke the old man, ripping Camille away from her awe. “Unless you threaten the Well.” Camille turned to from whence the voice came.

“Master Rodrick” said John, they both bowed.  “We have come to complete the trial.”

“Of course you have.” Replied the woman. “There is no turning back, as you have presented the mark. Let me give a brief explanation.”

The duo nodded in response.

“You shall submerge yourselves in the waters of the Well. Once inside, you shall be confronted by your biggest fears, hesitations, doubts. Should you succeed, you will be given your first Hunter assignment.”

“And if we do not?” asked Camille, however the woman ignored her and turned her gaze towards the Well.

“You shall enter one after another.” Stated Master Rodrick bluntly. “Good luck.”

Camille and John looked at each other expectantly. They both feared what it meant to fail now, after months of dedicated, gruesome training. They were  weary of the shadowy beasts surrounding them, fearing that perhaps they had a hand in dealing with the failures. The sudden grim attitude of their mentors solidified their concerns. John swallowed.

“Ladies first!” he announced, hesitantly.

“What a gentleman!” Camille laughed out nervously and approached the well, steadily.

She placed her hands on the wall surrounding the waters. She gazed into them. At first there was nothing unusual, just ordinary liquid, still as a morning sea. But as she stared into the deep blue, she became more and more mesmerised by it, she reached out, to feel the chilly water delicately slip between her fingers. She could not tear her eyes away from the Well, only it was important. John, Rodrick. the room and the shadowy creatures, it all seemed non-existent. Not even she existed. Only the Well and the sudden power she felt emanate from it. A black cloud began to fill the waters. Small, streaks of shadow extended their sickly limbs throughout the waters, corrupting the pure blue of the Well. However, Camille could not turn away. She had now placed both of her hands in the water and watched, hypnotised as the shadowy cloud approached the tips of her fingers and slowly slithered up her arms. A tingling feeling accompanied it, she could feel it all, the blood pumping in her veins, the air leaving her lungs and the delicate beating of her heart. Then, with no warning, the shadows pulled her in, into the waters, making her world go black as the darkness of the night.

***

Darkness, that is all that she saw. It twisted and spun her body, as if testing her durability. Screams accompanied her, but then they changed into sobbing and tears, which in turn transformed into shouts of pure joy. She gasped when she felt an invisible fist pummel into her bowls. Then, an unseen, caring motherly hand caressed her cheek to wipe off the tears. This repeated for what seemed like an eternity.

Suddenly, it all stopped. The voices in the darkness, the punches and the hand strokes, the twisting and the spinning. She looked down and saw a blinding white light. It was moving up towards her, splitting away the darkness, making the shadows dissipate before its might. It came closer, and closer, reaching out for her. Hope, joy, love now she felt those emotions. Although the light was blinding she stared into it, captivated.

Camille landed on the white ground with a loud thud. Her head ached, her whole body ached to tell the truth. She heaved her body up, her limbs trembling from the effort. She managed to position herself in a cross-legged sit and surveyed her surroundings. Her eyes widened at what she saw. There were trees surrounding her, bushes and shrubs but what was surprising was that they were all white and smooth, like the finest cut marble. She slid her hand across the glazed ground, still disbelieving that such a creation could exist. Then, her hand touched something furry. She looked up.

To her amazement, just a few inches away from her stood a cat. A beautiful, black-furred animal, its eyes emerald and piercing. It tilted its small head, clearly interested in the newcomer. The cat sniffed her hand and then rubbed it with its head. Camille stroke the cat in return.

“Hey little guy…” she said, “What are you doing in a place like this?”

That was the question. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was falling into the Well, to complete the trial to become a fully-fledged Hunter, a part of the most feared assassination group in the realm. But this place was something completely different. She expected to be confronted by some sort of demon or other magical creature. As her Masters said, the trial would put her against her fears and doubts. None of this resembled any of that. The cat’s constant rubbing against her ripped her away from her thoughts.

“Are you the danger I am supposed to face?” she inclined.

Suddenly, the cat raised its head abruptly, what she saw made her immediately stand, despite her aching body The animal’s eyes were completely black. A shadowy smoke began to emanate from them. The cat tilted its head and seemed to smile. Then, the pure-white ground beneath them began to give way to dark lines, which originated from under the creature. She eyed the ground, then the cat, and saw it dissipate into thin air, leaving its creepy smile behind for a few moments until it too, disappeared. Camille once again saw her world be devoured by darkness, she looked around nervously, she did not understand any of this, what in name of the Creator was happening here? When all of the white areas before her had been overtaken by the shadow, she felt her body go numb. Unable to keep conscious, she collapsed onto the pitch-black ground.

***

Camille woke up with a start. She eyed what was around her. The Well room surrounded her. With a sigh of relief she stood up, only to see her two masters stand before her, in a waiting pose, as grim as they were before she entered the Well.

“Is that it?” she asked.

Rodrick ignored her question and stated “Wait for the mark to appear.”

Confused she decided to act better than to ask her masters questions and observed her right forearm. She knew that this was where the fabled Hunter markings appeared. The name of the target to be killed would engrave itself on the assassin’s arm and an appropriate rune would appear on the target’s palm, to make sure that that person was the one to be killed. She anticipated the mark with excitement, she would finally become a Hunter, one of the most feared and mysterious people in the country. Everyone would speak her name in respect and in fear.

Suddenly, a searing pain entered her arm as she saw the name being written in flames. What she saw made the blood in her veins run cold, her throat run dry and her stomach seemed to be squeezed by a giant’s grip. She thought she would be free from that person. Why out of the thousands of people in this city did it have to be him?

“It can’t be.” She muttered, “I won’t do it. Not him.”

The old woman raised an eyebrow and smiled devilishly. Her smile reminded her of that of the cat. “You won’t?” she asked.

Camille hesitated. Horrible things are said to have happened to those who did not carry out the assignment. She thought of the shadowy creatures. Would she become one of them if she did not accept the task. She shook her head, it must be done. Even if she has to kill him.

“Pardon,” she whimpered and the straightened up. “Of course I will carry out the task set for me.”

“Good” spoke Rodrick “You shall leave immediately.” And with that, he and his female companion turned around and left the room, their brown cloaks swinging around behind them. They left the new Hunter stunned and uncertain of the action she was to commit in the next couple of hours.

***

She watched the iron doors close behind her. When she heard the satisfactory slam they made, she sighed. It was still unbelievable that the Well had chosen him. Who would want him dead? A person of his position would require at least a pound of verillion, the crystals which are used as payment for the missions carried out by the Hunters. Camille decided not waste any more time and walked down the pathway leading to her target’s house.

None of the lights in the homes that she had passed by were lit, the streets were suspiciously silent, as if everyone and everything had died. She shivered. Even the darkness of the Night seemed unnatural, as if the shadows from the corners of the buildings reached out towards her, urging her to hasten her steps towards the destination. Camille obliged and increased her pace.

A few moments later she came to a halt as she approached his house. Each step was becoming something forced. The knots in her throat and stomach began to tighten. She glanced behind her shoulder, behind her there was only the silent darkness of the night. She could swear that the shadows were watching her. Camille turned her head and surveyed the house. She could not just enter it through the front door, since she was certain that guards would be positioned in front of it. She did however, notice that one of the windows was unlocked, For anyone taller or larger than her, it would be impossible to fit through, but she was perfect.

Camille scurried through the rest of the street with feline agility, as she made her way towards the unhatched window. She had been trained by the best in the arts of stealth and considered the shadows of buildings and trees her allies. She knew that if she wanted to, no one would see her in her jet-black cloak and armour.

When she arrived beneath the window porch, she looked around to make sure that no one was following her. She jumped up and caught the edge of the wood with both of her hands. With the grace of a climbing cat she pulled herself up and crouched light-footedly. Camille peered into the room inside, carefully observing the person in the elegant armchair, who was facing the fireplace.

***

He examined the mark on his palm and smirked. Anyone else would have run, he thought, but not him. Escape was futile once you were the target of a Hunter. He delicately caressed the fiery rune, contemplating his life. It had been a good one, or at least for the most part. He only wished that he had been able to tell her how much she meant to him. Now, it would be too late. No other regrets except for that one, it indeed had been, a good life. He let out a sigh, but before  he could completely exhale it, he was interrupted by a sudden, delicate thud near his open window. So the time had come. He decided to stand up and confront his killer, to look at them right in the eyes, to go down with dignity. He stood up , turned around and positioned himself in front of the chair. What he saw made his face go pale. He saw her beautiful blonde hair escape from under the cloak’s darkness, her blue eyes shimmered in the firelight, much like his own. He wanted to say something to his killer but he had not expected this. He was at a loss for words, this was a death that he was not prepared for.

“You” he muttered.

She looked at him, her sword strongly gripped by her right hand. Why did he have to get up? It would have been a much easier task to fulfil if he had not. The task was already hard enough to do, why make it more difficult? She stood there, stunned, looking at him, tears began to form in her eyes. How could she possibly commit this?

“I have always loved you, Camille” he spoke, the words barely coming out of his throat, a tear slivered down his bearded cheek and into his mouth. It tasted sour, like the moment at hand.

She instinctively raised her sword with both hands. But wavered. She did not want to do it. But she had to. That was her duty. It had to come before everything else.

“I did once.” She muttered, lines of tears rushing down her face. “But not anymore.” With those words, she raised her sword and slashed through the air, the cold steel cut through the soft skin of his neck, and swept through the bone of the spine. His face showed shock and, what hurt her the most, disappointment, as she thought he felt towards her his entire life. His head lopped off of the neck and hit the wooden floor with a loud thud. It rolled across the floor towards her feet. The rest of the body collapsed and began to be engulfed by a pool of blood.

She could not take it anymore and fell to her knees. Camille picked up the head with both hands and pushed it into her chest, with one hand she begun to caress the hair and propped her head on top of it. The tears had now changed into loud sobs, her body was trembling. He had said that he had loved her, always, even though she had disappointed him so many times. He had spoken those words and she killed him anyway. Her nose began to run and her arms and hands were stained with blood. She was a mess but she did not care. She would never care. How could she after what she had done. She soothed the decapitate head and gave it a gentle kiss. She cried out aloud and closed her eyes.

***

Camille once again entered the circular room, but now, she did not care for anything. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. Her whole outfit was stained with blood and her eyes were bloodshot from the tears she had shed. In a pouch strapped to her belt she carried his hand, as if decapitating him had not been enough. She walked up to the edge of the Well and looked down at its waters, she now despised it. The once mesmerising surface had no effect on her whatsoever. She produced the cut limb from the bag and took one last look of it. It would be the last time she would see any part of him. And what would she get in return? Some physical enhancement to make her a better killer? She snorted with pure contempt and chucked the hand into the water.  In response, the water began to sizzle and a bright, blinding light began to emanate from within it. Soon, the light began to take over the room and Camille shielded her eyes with her hand.

When she lowered it, she found herself in the bizarrely looking world, where everything was glazed and white. She looked around and noticed the cat once again.

“What’s happening here?” she demanded, frustrated that the Well was toying with her.

The cat let out a deep, human chuckle and began to grow. It’s fur began to transform into an elegant black, leather coat and its face became more and more human. To her disbelief, before her stood an old man, no older than sixty perhaps. The top of his head was adorned with streaks of white hair and a stubby white bear covered his cheek and chin. He was a head taller than her and had an amused smile on his lips. He spoke with a shrewd and patronising voice.

“Well done!” he exclaimed, clasping his hand together. “You have killed your father.”

Camille looked at him with a burning hatred in her eyes “F**k you.” She spat out.

The man once again chuckled. “Now, now. You should be proud of yourself, you have passed the trial!”

“What?!” her eyes widened and her hands curled into fits. “You’re telling me that all of this was just some sort of dream? That all the pain I had gone through was nothing more than an illusion?”

The man shook his head. “It was real, alright. But not in your dimension. In it, your father still lives. By killing him you have proven your loyalty and ability to carry out any task given to you, even if it required you to kill your own kin.”

She stood before him dumbfounded and disbelieving. All of this, this whole tragedy was nothing more than an illusion? Than a simple test?

“But” he started “Your masters eagerly await your return. I would not want to keep them waiting.” He flicked his hand before she could spew out epics of hatred at him and filled her eyes with shadows. Her limbs began to give away beneath her weight and a feeling of great tiredness entered her mind. As she was losing consciousness he whispered into her ear, “We shall meet again, Camille Lancoste”.

***

A gasp escaped from her as she woke up. Camille found herself staring into the depths of the Well, the same moment as when she first entered it. She saw her reflection and was surprised to see that there were no bloodshot eyes or dried tears. The same went for her hands that were perfectly clean, deprived of any blood stains. A loud cough interrupted her amazement and made her turn around. Before her stood Master Rodrick and his female companion.

“Congratulations Camille” he stated, a wide grin breaking his cracked lips and wrinkles. “You are now a true Hunter!” The female master nodded in approval.

“Thank you” she blurted out, still overwhelmed by the situation. However, she looked around and saw that John was missing. “Where is John?”

The woman spoke “Some are not as fortunate and skilled as you are, and fail to complete the trial.”

Camille imagined how John would have felt if he were commanded to murder his own parent. She knew that he had parted with his mother and father on good terms. It must have been too much for him to handle. To kill parents who you had not disappointed repeatedly.

“What happened to him?” she asked, fearing the answer.

“We all serve the Well one way,” Rodrick stated, gesturing with his hand towards them “or the other” he added, pointing at one of the Faceless scurrying across the marble walls. Her eyes widened with shock. First she had to kill her father for a pathetic test and now she has learned that her best friend has become a shadowy abomination without a face or mind of its own. Camille screamed, she screamed as loud as her throat would allow her. She screamed until it hurt, until her body felt weak. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry. The woman walked up to her and placed her hand on her shoulder.

“You will learn to control such feelings.” She assured her. “As we all have.”

Author's Note

Short story, what do you think of the emotions and descriptions presented in the story.