Death Frost | Deathsworn #2

Chapter 3 ❆ Testing Day

"Good luck, you three," Mistress Kora said, planting a kiss each on our forehead. "Evy, don't forget. If anything happens..." He pushed a bottle into my hands. The warmth of it seeped through a little bit and bled into my skin.

"Thank you, mistress." I put it into my pocket before looking at Mistress Veronika as well.

"I hope everything I taught you until now will be enough," she said. "Remember your promise."

I nodded.

"Good luck, you all."

The thought of redemption allowed me to redirect the fire within me to a more driven purpose. I realized I'd been burning myself out with grief over my mother's death not to mention all those days of self-blame. Of course, I was allowed to grieve and blame myself for whatever the heck I wanted, but if I kept on doing that, then I would never be able to go anywhere or do anything productive.

I was ready to move on. Not completely, maybe the next step.

Mistress Veronika told me I had to earn the right to redemption before I could claim it. She was right. Revenge was just purely destructive. Redemption, being its more righteous sibling, would only right wrongs and treat the whole thing with tact and justice—one took what they are owed and nothing more. Looking at it more closely, I realized that Ovanolish had two different words for revenge in their language. One was ielblutrachen which had the harshest, most violent definition. It could probably be translated to vendetta. The other was iatelgung which was what Mistress Veronika told me about—redemption.

It made sense because Ovanol was a country which emphasized on warrior conduct. They were the most well-versed in the art of war. Their military prowess alone could rival all the countries in Erindal. The only thing that was stopping them from actually taking over was tradition and, of course, their code.

Having come to a decision, I decided I would try out for the heritage of the Temple of the Gods. If what Mistress Veronika said was indeed true, then this was the best place to learn how to control my ability. It was much safer compared to trying out for the War College. There would be room for only five disciples. If there was indeed a lot of people vying for the privilege, then that would mean I had a lot of competition.

Eren and Maun were trying out for it too. I had high expectations that Maun would pass the trials considering his aptitude. He definitely had talent for this sort of stuff while Erenol would probably have the least chance. The girl was much too soft and spoiled to endure harsh trials. Even with the training with Mistress Veronika, she was already not faring too well.

Nonetheless, if there was something Erenol would have that neither Maun nor I could match up to, it would be resilience. Erenol might look soft but she was no persimmon. She could recover from any heartache easily. She ran away when her mother died and stuffed herself with strawberries, covering the bitterness with literal nauseating sweetness. She was pretty much in the same situation as me. Our mothers died not too far apart and there she was comforting me with a smile.

Maun was sensitive but he was cluelessly freakishly capable. He had talent and we all knew it. There was just that big problem. He was too scarred by whatever scarred him—both literally and figuratively, hence he lacked any strength to be fully independent.

I brushed off a bead of sweat from my forehead, enduring the high sun as the Abbot came forward in his baggy robes and shiny head. I hid in the sanctuary of my hood as did the two others on either side of me. We were drowning in a sea of people that had gathered inside the Temple. It wasn't a pretty picture.

The Abbot addressed the crowd with a wave of his hand and a smile, instantly embedding silence in the place.

Maun and Erenol being on either side of me helped me deal with my claustrophobia. Even now, I could find my stomach flipping in discomfort at the thought of having to be trapped in this whole ordeal. Luckily we were early so we managed to find a fairly good and breathable spot at the rim of the crowd. I was secretly regretting having agreed to this whole farce. If it weren't for my Mistress Veronika's reminders of me "having to earn my right to redemption," I would have long since taken off.