Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 68: Sorting Part Two

Evanora raises her hand, and the artificial lights overhead dim slightly. Shadows melt and stretch across the benches, swallowing up the anxious fidgeting and whispered nerves of four hundred first years. The tension of the room is palpable, everyone's gaze drawn toward the proctors as if they're the only source of light left in the world.

With another wave of her hand, flags unfurl around the chamber blooming out of nowhere, catching a breathless draft that seemingly came out of nowhere. For a heartbeat, I can't help but stare. The precision of it, the sheer command over the building itself...it's not just for show. Evanora's Mark must be the one that lets her shape this whole place however she wants walls, floors etc. The realization crawls down my spine, cold and electric. I can't even begin to guess at the limits of her power. I doubt anyone here, even the other proctors, really know. It's impressive. It's terrifying. I have to respect it.

The flags themselves are works of art, each one radiating a different kind energy.

The first banner is impossible to miss: a stylized silver sword, gripped by a figure with wings of fire erupting from its back. The blade points downward, braced against the earth, and behind it a rising sun blazes in a perfect gold halo. The flag's colors are a savage, regal crimson and winter white, edged with gold so bright it almost hurts to look at. The whole thing screams heroism, sacrifice, and a kind of divine violence. I can already picture the kind of people who'll end up in that House martyrs, crusaders, glory-hounds who want to save the world or burn down trying.

The second flag is more subtle, but no less striking: deep indigo and onyx black, bordered in pale silver. At its heart, a downward-pointing triangle a silver eye set into its center, unblinking, watchful, cold. Four curved lines arc from the triangle's point, forming a hood or a veil, as if the eye is peering out from behind a mask. Everything about it whispers secrecy, descent, hidden knowledge. I feel a little shiver of kinship and suspicion both. I wouldn't mind being sorted there, honestly. They seem to be like minded based off the design alone.

The third banner is rougher, almost brutal in its honesty steel gray, rust red, and charcoal black, streaked together like raw ore. Its symbol is a broken iron shackle set against the flank of a rising mountain. Sparks scatter from the snapped chains, stylized into tiny, distant sparks. The message is clear: struggle, pain, the kind of suffering you have to climb through just to survive. I know a little about that. I wonder who they put there the ones who refuse to break, or the ones who already have and are still crawling uphill.

The fourth flag is an exercise in elegance and menace. Bone white, violet, and black, with a funerary mask at its center half of it cracked, the other half smooth and cold. The mask is wreathed in thorny laurel. From the mask's eyes, tiny red dots drip downward tears of blood how creepy. The whole thing is beautiful in a sick sort of way. It makes me think of spies, secrets, and victories you have to pay for twice. What type of cold bastards do they send there?

And then there's the last flag. Of course there is. Blinding gold, no border, as simple and arrogant as a slap to the face. Its only symbol is a sun, high in the sky, rays stretching to the corners as if nothing else in the world matters but its light. I can already smell the pretentiousness rolling off it in waves. I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes thinking about the fucking insufferable pricks who will be sorted there.

The room is utterly silent, every student's attention riveted on the banners. Evanora lets the moment stretch, a little smile playing at her lips as she watches our reactions.

I can already guess which one I'd fit best, but that's not my call to make.

Evanora finally speaks, her voice borderline fanatical. "These are your Houses. Each banner represents a legacy centuries in the making. Your actions will bring your house mates both honor and shame, so stand proud and become strong enough to be recognized as an Elite of our glorious Empire. Her eyes gleam with vicious fervor " Vive sicut serpens!"

The room moves as one, four hundred bodies rising to their feet, boots thudding on the stone. A shiver runs through me. I snap to attention with the rest, spine straight, right fist pressed over my heart. The words come out of my mouth with everyone else's, loud and unified, echoing off the ceiling: "Vive sicut serpens!"

It tastes like shit saying, but I say it anyway. Elijah is beside me, practically beaming, voice ringing out with genuine enthusiasm as he stares eyes wide at Evanora. He looks over at me, grin broad and honest, as if this is the greatest day of his life. Evanora sweeps her hand again, and the lights flicker back to their usual harsh brilliance. The banners remain, but the room's oppressive gloom lifts, replaced by a crackling energy. Four hundred students shuffle and murmur as they sit back down, the excitement so thick you could taste it anticipation, dread, and for some, the giddy hope that they'll finally be recognized, finally be seen.

Evanora paces back and forth on the raised platform, arms wide, her voice booming out over the crowd with theatrical fervor. "The time has come for the House Leaders to stand and announce their picks, as well as the names of their Houses. Each leader will explain the values and legacy their House represents so you understand."

She gestures grandly to the first proctor, the one who guided us to our rooms after that bullshit test. The huge, bald man with the dark blue eyes so deep they could swallow light.

He moves forward, unhurried, his presence radiating the easy confidence of a man who's never had to fight for attention in a room.

He stops at the front, towering over the rest, and grins not a warm grin, but one that promises discipline and consequence. "My name is Proctor Dean Abrashi. I am in charge of House Luxor." As he speaks, Evanora flicks her hand and every banner in the room shifts and shimmers, morphing into the golden sun flag, its blinding brilliance dominating every line of sight.

Dean's voice booms across the hall, practiced and perfectly pitched. "In obedience, we find peace. Those of you who join House Luxor have been observed as products of legacy. You believe in the traditional ideals of honor, hierarchy, and glory. Ours is the House of the Sun, the Empire's gold. The world turns by our light, and you will learn to stand tall beneath it or be burned away."

I can't help it a smirk curls my lip. It's almost too perfect. There it is, the house of highborns and golden boys, of people who've never been told 'no' in their entire lives. Probably all nobles, probably all convinced they're destined for greatness by sheer virtue of their last names and the shine of their family sigils how predicable. I roll my eyes, barely suppressing a snort. Elijah glances at me, grinning as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking.

Dean pauses, letting his words settle over the crowd. Then he turns to Evanora, who gives him a small nod. She waves her hand, and I watch, more curious than I'd like to admit, as about 130 students scattered through the benches begin to glow with a faint, golden light. The glow is soft but unmistakable, marking them as chosen marked for Luxor, for the House of the Sun.

Dean's voice is a command now, not an invitation. "All those who have been chosen, stand." freewēbnoveℓ.com

The golden-glowing first years rise as one. Some do it with stiff, proud backs and heads held high, already basking in the imagined glory of their new House. Others rise more hesitantly, uncertain, as if they're not sure why they were picked or if they even want this at all. My eyes flick over them, unimpressed. Most look exactly as expected, already bored, I start daydreaming about unleashing my voices on them all and watching the chaos that unfolds, the dark thought makes me chuckles.

Then Elijah bumps my shoulder, leaning in to whisper, "Look." He nods across the aisle, eyes bright with mischief.

I follow his gaze and spot Artemis standing, arms crossed, that same faint gold glow shimmering around her. For a second, I'm too surprised to react. Artemis? In the House of the Sun? Guess I shouldn't be surprised considering how proudly she throws around her last name.

I catch her eye for a split second. There's a challenge in her stare, a silent dare. I raise an eyebrow, letting my smirk deepen a fraction, just to see if it'll set her off. But she looks away first, chin high, shoulders rigid.

Dean continues, announcing, "You will follow me when the sorting is complete. You will be the light the Empire looks to, the standard by which all others are measured. Fail, and you will be forgotten. Succeed, and you will be remembered for generations."

A few of the Luxor students puff up even further, as if their spines might snap from the effort of standing so tall. I want to laugh. What a ridiculous way to start off this clown show. The flags shift back to where all are showing, and the golden glow fades from the chosen who sit back down. The rest of us are left, waiting for the next House to make their move. I can feel the tension rising again, a restless current running beneath the surface of all this ceremony. Elijah leans back, still grinning, as if this is all just a game to him I kind of respect it.

I sit back, arms folded, waiting to see which group of fools I'll be forced to call my own. I don't care about gold, or glory, or the Empire's ideals. I care about survival. I care about power. And I care about not being anyone's pawn no matter how bright their House shines.