it necessarily means anything. Generally, at your age, Masters just take note of promising initiates and track their progress if they find someone of interest. It will likely be many years, likely more than a decade, before you are chosen by a Master.” Berunn paused. “If you are chosen at all.”
A feeling of unease swept through the group.
Eridan squirmed, trying to tighten his rudimentary mental shields against his age-mates’ emotions. He’d always been very sensitive to other people’s emotions, and unpleasant ones affected him particularly badly.
In the meantime, Initiate Berunn continued. “I know right now you all think that it can’t happen to you, but the truth is, initiates outnumber Masters ninety to one.” He leaned forward, his lips curled into something cruel. “The truth is, most of you will not be chosen by a Master. You will never be a Master’s apprentice, which means you will never be a Master. Most of you will end up in the servicing department of the Order, serving Masters and their apprentices, so unless you want to be help, you should start applying yourselves now. You’re not children anymore. You’re junior initiates of the Order. You are all competing against each other for the honor of being chosen by a Master.”
“Do you have a Master?”
When Berunn looked at him, Eridan realized that he was the one who’d said that. He flushed.
Berunn’s eyes narrowed. “Not yet,” he said evenly, giving Eridan a hard look. “But I have been approached by several Masters, and I expect to be chosen within the next few months.”
Despite his confident, bored tone, Eridan could sense that the older boy was far from confident. Initiate Berunn was actually feeling… anxious.
Eridan cocked his head to the side. “When is an initiate too old to be chosen?”
Berunn’s jaw clenched slightly. “Twenty-one standard years is the cut-off age. If an initiate isn’t chosen by that age, they will be transferred to the servicing department of the Order.”
Eridan dropped his gaze, realizing that his question had likely been taken as a mockery. Berunn definitely couldn’t be much younger than twenty.
He coughed slightly, not knowing how to make the situation less awkward. He didn’t want the older initiate to hate him.
“What is the earliest age we can be chosen by a Master?” he said softly, looking up again.
He had expected that the neutral question would relax Berunn, but instead, a strong emotion, something angry and bitter, rolled off the older boy as he glared at Eridan. “You should be careful, Initiate Eridan. Gloating does not befit a member of the Order.”
Eridan frowned in confusion. “What?” he said. “What do you mean?”
Berunn’s lips twisted into something ugly. “Just because Master Idhron already preliminarily claimed you, it doesn’t make you better than us, Eridan. You are still a junior initiate. He might change his mind yet.”
Eridan stared at him, bewildered. What?
But before he could say anything, the class exploded with shouts, other children’s anger, confusion, and jealousy quickly overwhelming Eridan’s senses. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to protect his mind from the onslaught, but it was useless. His head started spinning, nausea rising to his throat, and the next thing he knew, everything was dark.
***
When Eridan opened his eyes, he was in the infirmary, and there was an unfamiliar Master seated in the chair by his side.
The man’s gaze was on the datapad in his hand, so Eridan took the opportunity to study him. Straight pale hair tied back, a sculpted face with a chiseled jaw, a straight nose, and eyebrows much darker than his hair. The stubble on his face was quite dark, too.
He was very young for a Master, Eridan noted with some surprise. The man must be in his early to mid-twenties. Eridan would have never thought such a young man could be a Master, but the heavy black robes with the Order’s insignia that the man was wearing clearly denoted his rank. Only Masters could wear them. He wasn’t even a Master Acolyte—he would be wearing gray robes if that were the case. He was a full-rank Master.
Eridan stared at him in fascination. He hadn’t seen all that many adults besides the Overseer. The senior initiates that taught children his age were barely older than children themselves. Eridan knew that as he got older, his classes would be taught by Master Acolytes, but that hadn’t happened yet.
“You should learn to shield your mind,” the man said, lifting his gaze to him.