Chapter 17: Room Eighty

  Abel stood before the task boards in the dimly lit task office, his eyes scanning the sheets of parchment pinned up in chaotic clusters. Each parchment was marked with a task, written in a spidery script.

  The tasks varied widely in nature, from the mundane, like collecting herbs from the Stone Forest, to the more daunting, such as hunting a specific beast that prowled the outskirts of the tower's protected grounds.

  "Those aren’t for you, boy, I already told you, Recruits aren't allowed to pick yet," Gndel remarked, following Abel’s gaze. "The Tower is not kind to those who overreach."

  Abel tore his eyes away from the tantalizing promise of power on the right side of the board and focused back on the one-star tasks.

  I was just looking! he thought to himself.

  "Understood," he replied. The temptation of more contribution points and other rewards was real, but the fear of overstepping his boundaries was stronger.

  He thanked Gndel, who only nodded in acknowledgment, his sharp eyes already moving to monitor the next recruit who approached the board. Abel turned and left the task office, his mind buzzing with the weight of his choices and what y ahead.

  On his way to Sena’s room, Abel felt the stone walls of the Tower hum faintly. Just as he was about to reach the stairs, the front door of the first floor shook violently, the wooden panels creaking as if something heavy had struck them from the other side. Every recruit in the hall froze, heads turning in unison toward the door.

  The door swung open, and in stepped a figure wrapped in a dark gray robe like that of a recruit, but with intricate embroidery along the edges that marked her as gifted.

  She carried herself with fearsome confidence, her steps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Abel’s heart quickened as he felt an almost tangible, beastly aura emanating from her, a ferocity that made his instincts scream at him to look away.

  But his curiosity won over his fear, and he gnced at her through his peripheral vision.

  She was tall, her shoulders squared and muscur, with a tribal-like axe slung across her back that looked as if it could cleave stone.

  Her hair was a deep, almost garish blue, matching the piercing intensity of her eyes, which seemed to flicker like a predator's in the dark. She surveyed the room with a cold, unyielding gaze, and wherever her eyes fell, the recruits instinctively parted, creating a path for her like the sea splitting around a rock.

  "That's Gloomeyes," Abel realized, recalling what Nando had told him earlier. She was one of the gifted recruits who had dared to delve into the knowledge books of the non-gifted, seeking more power than her already-gifted status provided. There was something terrifyingly fierce about her, something wild and untamed.

  Abel waited a few moments, biding his time as she ascended the grand staircase with long strides. Once he was sure the tension had eased and those who wanted to use the stairs had begun to move again, he followed behind, keeping a careful distance.

  When Abel reached the second floor, he headed straight for Sena’s room. He knocked twice, his knuckles tapping softly against the heavy wooden door. From the other side, he heard Sena’s familiar voice, low and cautious. "Who is it?"

  “It’s Abel,” he replied.

  There was a moment of silence before the door creaked open. Inside, Sena nodded for him to enter. As he stepped into the small room, Abel saw that all the members of Room Eighty were already there, except for Ronald. Nando, sitting cross-legged on the floor, gnced up from a parchment he was reading, and Isabel leaned against the far wall, her arms crossed.

  “Where’s Ronald?” Abel asked, noticing the empty space where Ronald would usually sit.

  Nando shook his head, a shadow passing over his face. “He refused to return,” he said ftly.

  Abel’s heart sank. He felt a wave of conflicting emotions, disappointment, frustration, but also a begrudging understanding.

  Ronald might have decided that his path y with the gifted, those who were almost guaranteed to rise to the rank of Apostle. Perhaps he had chosen to distance himself from their group of non-gifted recruits, whose future was far less certain.

  “I can’t bme him,” Abel said quietly. “He’s probably trying to build connections with the real pyers in the Tower, the Gifted.”

  Sena nodded. “He’s not wrong to do that. But we have our own path to walk, and we need to keep moving forward.”

  Isabel, who had been silent until now, pushed off from the wall and walked over. “Exactly. We knew from the start this wouldn’t be easy. If Ronald chooses his path, we’ll choose ours.”

  Abel looked around the room, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The Tower was a dangerous, unforgiving pce, but he wasn’t alone. They would find their way, one step at a time.

  The discussion turned back to their pns, their shared knowledge books, and the tasks they would need to undertake. As the room filled with low, murmured conversations and the flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced on the walls, Abel felt a strange mix of dread and excitement.