221 days before the execution - Part 1

Students were lining up in the Proving Grounds, a circular green field surrounded by tiered seating dug into the surface of the academy's courtyard. They were all a bunch of spoiled brats, with bright futures ahead of them thanks to their parents. 

A week had passed since the new semester began, and these lucky kids were about to learn how to pray to the gods. From whom? Satia, who had little interest in prayer herself. Why her then? Because Govad thought it would help put an end to the rumours. 'Someone with your history needs to be more careful of what people think about her,' he had said. She listened to Govad not because she cared about people's opinions, but because she knew words could harm. She didn't want to lose her job and be exiled to her cold, dark house again, spending her days and nights between books and projects that no one cared about.

"You have reached the age when any god-loving person should begin praying," Satia began her speech. She felt silly preaching to a bunch of kids too young to care about any of her words. They had been sent to this academy by the invisible hand of society, to be brainwashed while they were still young. No seven-year-old one liked to get up early in the morning to listen to a grown woman blab about gods and responsibilities.

"I want you all to remove your prayer brooches and look at them."

Altar-ministers walked between the lines, dragging their long red cloaks behind them as they helped the students remove their brooches.

"You learned numbers in creche. All prayer brooches have eight round plates with numbers in the middle of each. If you look closely, you can see that each plate has three hands with tiny numbers around it. When the small hand moves five times, you have completed one day of prayer and it will push the medium-sized hand forward. When the medium hand moves thirty times, that's one month of prayer and will push the largest one forward. And when the largest one moves twelve times, that's one year of prayer."

The students shifted restlessly, waiting for her speech to end. "If you forget to pray one day, you need to pray three times the next day to make up for it..." Satia continued her speech about the importance of praying and its effects on human life, barely listening to her own words. Was there anything more boring than teaching about prayer? Maybe the praying itself.

"Now pin your brooches back on your capelet and put your right hands over them, repeating after me." Some kids held their brooches with their left hands, and were quickly corrected by Altar-ministers walking between the lines.

"God of fire, sun, and war; Asha Vahista."

The students repeated the words after her so loudly that Satia was sure it actually reached Sanctum.

"Vr'thar vek zorrak thral skar'vyr. Falvak thor'ryn, vek askral nar'vor, vek dral vosk. Teshk vek thorak vyr'vek karak, vek vrask vek fyr'shor drak'zor…"Satia tuned out her own voice as she called upon all eight gods, one after the other, without truly feeling the words she was saying. She recited the invocations for each god and had the children repeat them like parrots.

By the last word, all of the small hands on the brooches clicked forward to the number one. The kids showed their brooches to each other as if they had performed a miracle. Satia wanted to smile at their childish happiness, but nothing about these forced prayers was funny to her. Not after all she saw.

A heavy dark cloud flowed toward the academy. The sun vanished behind its mass, and shadows swallowed the Proving Grounds. Satia asked the Altar-ministers to come forward. She assigned a few dozen children to each Altar-minister and took the last few herself.

"Follow me. Today your real first class will begin," she said walking toward the exit.

The wind buffeted them as they crossed the Proving Grounds. Some acolyte devotees, sitting in the tiered benches on the side of the field, descended to practise. For them, bad weather was no excuse to shirk their responsibilities. After all, they would soon be sent to the outposts—though not the dangerous ones, as they were the sons and daughters of powerful people.

Watching them train was the most typical and inane thing for Satia. But her students did not share her sentiment. They craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the devotees using their powers before being ushered out of the area by Satia.

The kids hopped around her, giggling and babbling while passing through the courtyard. It would take less than twelve years for an academy to drain all the excitement and happiness from the kids, turning them into obedient slaves or self-conceited, arrogant devotees. Both types are pretty easy to control.

They crossed the flat, green courtyard and approached the academy's multi-story building—a towering structure from the past, built by those who once fought alongside the gods against Aharim and his followers, the Healers. Its purpose was singular: to teach future generations the words gods. 

The entrance was raised by a few steps, leading to a portico supported by eight columns. Each column told a story through intricate carvings along its surface, crowned with reliefs of the gods near its roof.

"Miss! What is a Healer?" a girl with curly brown hair and innocent green eyes asked. They were almost at the steps of the main building. Satia really wanted to ignore the girl's question and be done with this morning, but a boy with a skinny, long face didn't let the question hang in the air.

"They're demons," he said, making the topic even more intriguing for the others.

"No, dummy. They helped the demons, but they're not demons."

"They are heretics."

"They're less than human."

"They were made by gods for humans, but their ego made them betray their orders."

"They have no souls."

"They suck people's souls."

"Their brains are smaller than ours."

The students chattered around her, repeating things they had heard at home or from AlterMinisters of their neighborhood. They spoke with the same loathing tone as adults, but they didn't even know what a Healer was, what they looked like or why they betrayed the Orders, or even if any of that demonshit was true or not.

"Enough!" Satia's shout shocked the kids into silence and obedience. She shouldn't have lost her temper, but for Ushahin's sake, keeping her composure around this topic was difficult. She locked her jaw and gave them a feeble smile. "You will learn about Healers later. But know one thing: They are human just like me and you, and for all they do for us, they deserve to be respected."

The students looked at her with long faces, their eyes shifting to something behind Satia.

"Respect for the undeserving will only blossom unjustified pride." a woman said, standing one step behind Satia and facing the kids. Her nose was like an eagle's beak, and her lips were as thin as paper. She was Izadyar.

The children looked at the new woman in confusion. Satia doubted they realised what Izadyar had just said, only because Izadyar's audience was Satia, not them. She bet Govad would not be happy if he knew Izadyar had caught her defending Healers. But would he be informed of this?

Izadyar turned her cold, emotionless eyes on Satia. "Healers might be human but not all humans are equal, Satia. The gods will decide who deserves respect and who does not."

Satia averted her eyes from Izadyar, looking back at the kids' dull faces and tried to finish her morning task as peacefully as possible. "Okay, enough with this topic. Let's get inside."

"They are weak and slow minded. They can not differ right from wrong and need to be controlled by us." Izadyar said behind them.

Satia stopped on the last step. Her heart was beating fast. Anger was pumping through her veins. She clenched her fists and turned back to face Izadyar's smiling face. "If they are as weak as you say, then how are they the only ones who can heal?" She did her best to keep her tone calm and polite.

"I did not say they are useless. The gods have a purpose for everyone. For Healers, it is to obey and heal us so we can rule and make the world a better place." Izadyar smirked and clasped her hands in front of her. "You know what happened when they thought they could rule the world, don't you?"

Satia gritted her teeth. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. There was no way for her to win this conversation. Arguing with those who had already made up their minds was a waste of time, and in this case, it could cost her her life as well.

The sky rumbled.

"Okay, children. Let's go inside before the rain begins." Satia opened the door just as the rain began and ushered the children into the atrium—a massive rectangular space, with a towering ceiling located at the top of six floors of classrooms flanking it on all sides, and two curved staircases leading up to the highest floor.

The only sound inside the academy was the howling wind pushing through gaps in the doors and occasional thunder. Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the hall and walked down the first corridor on the left. They passed a dozen wooden doors before Satia stopped in front of one of them, pushing it open.

"Hello, Hello!" The mentor in the class stood up from his chair and opened his arms, as if he was really excited to see these little brats. He turned to Satia with a big smile which she returned with a half-smile and a slight nod, as if to say, 'now they are your problem.'

Satia closed the door after the last student entered and breathed out in relief, having finished that chore. She walked toward her office at the end of that corridor and collapsed on her big, soft sofa. Her room was warm, cosy and filled with shelves of books. And most importantly, there were no kids.

Rest of chapter in the next post!