The Mad Brother

Seth stood alongside his brothers, all eleven of them, and waited.

Igor had told them earlier in the day that they were to be addressed by the Monsignor before they were to depart for their first test. It was something that seemed to surprise the rest of them as they claimed they had never laid eyes on the man, knowing the existence of the Monsignor and his post through nothing but rumors mumbled amongst the older children.

Seth on his part found himself occupied by something more disturbing as his minds joked and laughed and did the things that had led his brothers to think him mad in the past year.

New Quest: [Test of Fear].

The Seminary has taken it upon itself to dispel from its inhabitants the sense of fear that plagues them all. As an aspiring mage of the soul, you will be faced with instances where you are to stand before that which you fear the most. The seminary would rather not have you freeze then and put its name to shame. Should you freeze and die from your fear, kindly do it here where the shame will be yours and yours alone. Or survive and grow stronger.

Objective: Survive the Mist.

Reward: Increase in Mental Resistance, Possible Skill.

Consequence: Mind Break, Possible Death.

It seemed the notification had finally figured out what the quest was. Good for it.

Are we certain this is Jabari's doing? One of his minds asked.

Seth ignored the mind even though he'd had the same doubts over the year.

Each time an instructor put a test to him, a notification came alive, sometimes moments before the tests were put to him. But these weren't the only scenarios where they intruded upon him. Once, in the healer's class, he had taken a taste from a plant that looked edible only to be regaled by a notification informing him of his alluring status of being poisoned. Dare he say it had been the only thing to have saved his life. The healer had claimed that if he had noticed a moment later he may not have survived. There were many more of its kind over time, and he came to believe it only popped up when whatever information it presented was deemed important enough. How? By whom? He did not know.

No matter how powerful, he doubted Jabari was capable of such an extraordinary and intricate feat.

He pushed the notification away with an enforced thought, a skill garnered over the past year, as the Monsignor came to stand before them, elevated on a wooden podium they themselves had been forced to drag out to the open training ground upon which Igor enjoyed beating them with the excuse of the way of the sword.

We take it quite well, though, one of his minds thought. I mean, look at us, one year and we've never been beefier.

We're still short though, another mind chimed in.

Thank us for that, a mind returned, sarcastic. Raping our sense of positivity with every negative we can find. And we're not short, we're portable.

Yeah, cause every guy wants to be pocket size.

But we like pocket size.

No, we really don't, another snapped. And stop trying to convince us that we do. Lying to us won't make us suddenly content with our height.

But…

We. Do. Not. Like. Our. Height, another scowled. Stop trying to make us.

There are guys who find pocket size attractive.

Seth sighed at this, knowing a prolonged argument was inevitable as Monsignor Faust mounted the platform before them and stood behind its lectern. He studied it briefly before stepping to the side and away from it.

We are not gay, another piece of Seth's mind hissed. Stop trying to live out some twisted fantasy with us.

The thought gave Seth pause. That argument had escalated quite quickly. Still, he kept his emotions from his face and remained silent.

Are we sure?

"We're not gay," Seth repeated with a mumble, hoping to silence it all. Silverfang frowned beside him and he ignored the boy. His brothers had since grown accustomed to what they termed his random statements, and so had he. Apparently, he had garnered an unspoken title of 'The Mad Brother.'

But how are we so sure?

We've been here one year, correct? A mind asked.

Yes, came the answer.

There are a lot of guys here, correct?

Correct.

Have we had the urge to kiss anyone of them?

No.

What of Barnabas, any appeal to him? He is the most effeminate here.

No. And we bet he can crack our skull with one swing.

Good… But we have noticed how we look at Instructor Emriss when we think no one's watching.

Seth felt his minds tremor with chuckles and frowned. "We have not been looking at anyone."

There's no need to hide it.

Yes… She's got something going for her with those curves. We wonder who she's dating.

"I don't think that's a useful line of thought," Seth mumbled. "And I don't think she is."

Why not?

"Because she doesn't spend much time with them." He refocused his attention on Faust who was now speaking. "Now be quiet, I'm trying to listen."

Why? One of his minds asked. We already know what the test is. They're going to send us into the mist and we're going to get terrified by something so we face our greatest fears.

Besides, another added, we're already listening. We know this.

Seth's frown deepened.

His minds had developed a certain type of skill, or perhaps it was safe to say they had always had it. Even when he thought he wasn't paying attention, they seemed to be aware of everything. They knew what and where but bickered over the why. Because of this he always knew things he didn't know he knew. He could ignore the Monsignor entirely and still be aware of what the man was saying. For instance, despite his distraction he knew they would be sent out using the North gate, one he'd never seen. They would be guided by Igor out into the mist where he would tell them the specifics of what the test entailed. Then he would leave them there. It was the basic summary of the Monsignor's words so far. Words he wasn't even listening to.

See, a mind pointed out. No need for such focus.

Seth ignored his thoughts, relegating them to the back of his mind so that they became naught more than a steady thrumming in the back of his head, a quiet hum like the dying symphony of a tragic orchestra, a shadow of the headache he had once suffered. It was another thing he had learned in the past year, and had been glad for. Unfortunately, he was still getting the hang of it. Incomplete as it was, his minds could always force themselves out of their relegation and blot out his mind with their voices. He knew that they could drag his attention back to them if they wished, but they did not. They were content with whatever mental dissonance they were bound in. For this, too. he was glad.

"… Some of you may think and believe that even after a year there may still be hope," Monsignor Faust was saying, his voice barely raised yet carrying across to be heard as if he spoke in their ears, an amazing feat considering there were no less than fifty of them. "To you I say, 'dead it.' Hope does not exist. As the Reverends have been telling you for the past year, this is your family now. The boy beside you picking his nose, crying in bed, seeking out the gates, they are your family now. They have been your family for the past year. You might hate each other, love each other, hold indifference toward each other. But believe me when I say that is only the nature of family. We do not have to love each other. We do not have to be loyal to each other—though it is our wish that you are. But as family we will choose ourselves above all others. This is not the way of the Seminary, this is the way of humanity, until we become something more… or something less.

"And this test shall test us in this; in knowing what we can become. Some of us will not return from it, and some will return less than they are now. Do not hold it against yourselves; death comes to us all…"

Seth thought that was rich coming from a Baron. Everyone knew Barons walked on the realm of immortality. And even if they did not, they at least lived long enough for it to feel as if they did. There was speculation that a Baron could live forever as long as another did not come for their life.

Seth knew when his minds snatched that up as a new conversation amongst themselves and strived to ignore them more.

Around him, at least two of his brothers paled from the Monsignor's words.

The seminary had brought them pain and derogation over the months but never the threat of death. It was odd being told outright that death was on the horizon of the next thing they were being shoved into without their consent.

"… I do not tell you this to scare you," Faust continued, ironically. "I tell you this to prepare you. Those of you who return lesser will not be turned away. However, we will nurture you in the hopes that you heal from it. Should you prove unable to, we will find you a place where you will survive, if not thrive." Now he cast his attention across the mass of them, eyes searching but not finding. He met each gaze as he did this, meeting trembling eyes with eyes of steel and the color of blood.

He did not seem to find whatever it was that he sought so he stepped farther away from the podium, descending with the sluggish speed of the old, cane clacking before every step. "Listen to your Reverends, brothers of the Seminary," he said as he departed. "It will guide your continued survival."

.........

After Faust's departure, Igor filed them away, leading them with barked words and the threat of pain dispensed in ways he proved quite graphic about. The other children from the different other buildings they had come to learn littered the seminary grounds where guided by their own Reverends in the same way. It was as if they had all learned their leadership skills from the same hand book.

The trip to the North gate was nothing short of a journey. It was long enough that it took over an hour even with hurried steps. Somehow, without ever stepping a foot in front of them, Igor seemed to herd them like cattle. He directed them with barks of his own. The cacophony of multiple priests hauling verbal abuses dimmed as the children separated, herded off in different directions. Seth did not look to the other children as they parted ways. He did not ponder on their fate. Everyone was going to go through this test one way or another. But not everyone will make it out of it.

He felt his minds perk up at his thought and scowled. "Please, no," he shunned them. Now was a time for focus. Now was a time to prepare himself for the possibility of death.

Still, it did not phase him as much as he'd expected. For him, death had been at every corner. There were times during their training when his notifications warned him of the consequences of his failure being death. He did not doubt the same existed for his new brothers. However, he doubted they had it imposed on them so blatantly. After all, to think death was a possibility hit much differently than to know it. And while his brothers had thought it possible, his notifications had led him to know it was possible, countless times.

Do we think we'll be able to accomplish our daily quest today? One of his minds perked up, like a child who knew he was interrupting a conversation among adults.

Seth shrugged as he walked. There was a false nonchalance in the action he knew his minds would not be deceived by. If there was anything he feared more than the seminary, it was the failure to pass his daily quest. The consequence was always the same, always—

He shook his head and a tremor went through him. No. Test or not, he could not afford to ignore his daily quest. The number of steps required for the daily quest had reduced over the months, but in its place the draws and the breaths had risen so that five thousand draws were required of him and nigh fifty thousand breaths.

The dread that had come over him after his first failure had seemed sufficient to keep him from failing any more. But the seminary was an opponent of accomplishing the quest, and he rarely found the time.

Eighteen failures in one year and he still dreaded it. It was funny how a simple notification scared him more than a compound with way too many Barons.

...........

The north gate was disappointing to behold. It was a small insignificant latticework of wood that reminded Seth of dried out bamboo, and was fenced on both sides in the same type of stone that every building in the seminary seemed to be made of. Surprisingly, Igor seemed to struggle as he opened it, pushing with the weight of himself behind the force. At one point he was forced to lean into it with his shoulder, and heave. When he did, the gate opened outward, splitting down the middle.

A large gust of mist swallowed Igor immediately, rushing at them like a horde of demons let free from the gates of hell. It was mist of deep white and Igor was gone from sight as quickly as it had come. The mist was a herald to none; a benign harbinger. It was itself, and it was compounding. Seth had but a single moment to realize what had happened before losing himself in its embrace. The gate, the poor unbecoming latticework of wood, had held it all back. For how long, he did not know. But now it was free, it took them in its embrace and drowned the world away from them.

For something so deeply white that snow paled in comparison, it brought with it the deep dark of the unconscious.

It was a truly terrifying beginning to a test.