Chapter 19. Etherian

"This is bad," the thought flashed through Sumarel's mind the instant she saw the noble.

Elongated ears, pointed and curved upward, features stretched and refined. The Etherian towered over the others—a full head taller than the average human.

Who hadn't heard of them? A dwindling race, perhaps on the brink of extinction—at least compared to the others. Yet their achievements and reputation were so extraordinary it made you sick with envy. Though of course, they weren't famous for their accomplishments—but for their women. Unlike the males, they were stunning beauties that men dreamed about and other women envied—tall, slender, with perfect body symmetry, long thick white hair, delicate faces, and soft, almost childlike voices. In other words—the timeless standard of beauty.

"He shouldn't be here," thoughts raced through her mind along with a frantic plan of action. Maybe she'd once envied their women, but right now their appearance meant nothing to her. What troubled her was something else—Etherians weren't just intelligent, they were masters of mental magic. Being natural empaths—they could easily read the thoughts and intentions of other beings, always remaining cold and detached, never allowing anyone even a glimpse into their souls.

And she had enough secrets she'd prefer to keep hidden from this monster. Not knowing what to expect from a mentalist mage, Sumarel recalled the plan she'd prepared in advance for situations like this.

"So, you're the strongest group?" the man asked in a voice devoid of any intonation, turning toward them and examining each with his gaze.

She knew—you couldn't fight an empath-mage head-on, but to make him dig through her mind, she'd have to give him reason enough to dirty his hands with teenage memories. Looking all high and mighty, he probably wouldn't bother with such base thoughts, would he? The plan was simple—she needed to create many layers of thoughts, intertwined and tangled together. Confuse herself and others—mix a variety of feelings into one, bind emotions with thoughts and actions, throwing off any proportions or system.

Love for Alpha? Perfect! Maybe even a desire to be a guy, leading the group—excellent. Hatred for how he looked at her as someone who needed protection, being an idiot himself? That'll do. Dislike for the secret manipulator and observer in their group—suitable, maybe even put it a layer higher to make it more obvious. Or maybe add another layer with hatred for the Upper City authorities and disobedience—excellent, they were confident in their ability to reshape young minds anyway. Maybe fear of the Etherian mixed with admiration and envy, plus gloating about their dire situation?

But the main thing—the thought sequence had to flow smoothly, from one to another. Each next sentence in her head had to have its foundation in the previous one, sometimes interrupted by fragmented memories or emotional outbursts.

And most importantly—to stand out and not stand out at the same time. An impassive face that drew attention—and a kaleidoscope of emotions in her soul. "Typical package, right?" the thought flashed through her head and immediately cut off in an attempt to build the necessary sequence of layers, mixing everything up. And the key—fear and anticipation of training, the desire to excel, but not in the way that will make her noticeable. And to crown it all—playing the victim, as if she wasn't the weak one, but rather cursed by a world that stuck her with this feeble female form.

"Your little group," the Etherian paused, sweeping his gaze over the crowd before him, "is worthless."

He spoke slowly, somewhat quietly, so you had to strain to catch even a hint of his mood and intentions. "Not a bad method of suggestion," flashed through Sumarel's mind, and she, playing her role, moved as if instinctively toward Alpha, pressing closer. On one hand, being near someone who should excel at the trial wasn't the best idea; on the other—wasn't this exactly in line with the image she'd created for herself in this little game?

"Those who band together merely to survive can never withstand something founded on a grand idea," he touched a finger to his temple, brushing the white blindfold. "Fractured at your core and feeble... let's see if your group meets my standards."

The Etherian waved his hand, but nothing changed—at least, not for the others. Sumarel, surprised by the others' lack of reaction, understood immediately. The space from the beginning of the hall where they stood to the Etherian towering at the other end was barely perceptibly distorted. She could make out the distortion, but whether in sync with the group or clearly not wanting to stand out, she gave no sign.

"The task is simple," he clasped his hands together, lifting his head slightly higher, as if demonstrating superiority before delivering his verdict. "Reach me..." he traced his fingers through the air, and a line ignited on the dojo floor. "Begin."

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Predictably, no one moved, exchanging glances with each other. The distance was relatively small—twenty meters to the Etherian. But everyone understood—this wasn't a race—the true test was something deeper. And no one wanted to go first. Finally their leader—the same bland-looking guy Sumarel still hadn't been introduced to—took the first step. After going just one meter, he froze, as if hitting an invisible wall. Nothing visible happened, but he just stood there, staring into emptiness.

"So the test is built around mental attack after all," Sumarel thought and stepped forward. Immediately thoughts appeared in her mind, or... rather voices—her own, other people's... Her mind filled with a cacophony of sounds. The others followed—including Alpha, surely embarrassed that she'd stepped forward before him.

"This requires pure willpower," the thought flashed through her head, immediately drowning in the multitude of other thoughts surfacing from the depths of consciousness. And she took the next step, then again and again, overtaking even their leader, pushing ahead. Focused, she looked at no one, only delving within herself. In a way, it was an amazing experience. It was obvious to her—this was some kind of amplification of brain impulses. Extremely interesting magic. In battle—to neutralize or interfere with an opponent's mind—surely a very successful strategy.

The voices immediately intensified, and a whole array of thoughts burst free. She glanced back, noticing Alpha. His sinewy body was tense with effort, jaw clenched, and in the gaze he drilled into the Etherian was the determination to pass the trial at any cost. Drops of sweat glistened on his tanned skin, highlighting the relief of his muscles. "Handsome," the treacherous thought slipped through her consciousness, and Sumarel felt her cheeks begin to burn. Something warm and unbidden stirred in her chest—sympathy? Attraction? She immediately tried to suppress this feeling, but it had already taken root.

Turning away, she thought:

"Disgusting, it doesn't just amplify thoughts, but emotions, feelings too."

But this thought was immediately overshadowed by another—the desire for love, to be loved and liked, and against it immediately, as if connected, rose another—resistance, dislike. She immediately remembered her first love—a guy from the Middle City. The boy with eternally tousled chestnut hair and crookedly smiling lips. How she'd wanted to constantly be near him, embrace him, breathe in the scent of his skin—a mixture of soap and something homey.

"What garbage," immediately flashed through her head. But as soon as she brushed it off, other images flooded her mind—a memory that happened after the time transfer—how she pushes him away while she herself falls into an abyss. The sensation of snakes crawling through her body, cold and slippery, penetrating under the skin... A whole heap of memories and thoughts connected to the mysterious reflection filled her consciousness. "Bad," came the sober conclusion.

Driven by will and understanding of the situation, she immediately turned around, heading toward Alpha. The only way to suppress the terrible memories without giving herself away—to fix herself in a loop of the monotonous and understandable. In front of the entire group, which was trying to gradually advance, fighting the mental influence, she approached Alpha. His face was slightly red, and his gaze—unexpectedly soft, almost puppy-like. Seeing the mechanism of the trial, she had no doubt—he was thinking about her. But she didn't care, she just needed to use him temporarily, as long as he didn't cause problems for her. And in front of everyone, she took his hand, maintaining an emotionless expression, immediately turning back and dragging him forward—faster to the end of the trial.

Focused entirely on herself—on romantic feelings, trying to shelter from her own dark thoughts—she didn't see the faces of the others. All of them, of course, like her, under the influence of amplified emotions, watched this scene. Their group's leader, turning around, frowned, clearly displeased with what was happening. And the Etherian standing at the end of the hall smiled—for the first time—apparently anticipating the show.

"The idiot's in love," flashed through her thoughts when she felt his palm sweating. The smell of male pheromones hit her nose—sensitive to scents, she was used to what hung in their camp. There it constantly smelled of sweat, dirt, food remnants, and that special mixture of fear and aggression always present in such places. The smell of unwashed bodies, sour clothes... But now, from Alpha—she distinctly sensed a change. It was that same smell she'd noticed when he trained with her for a long time, or rather, when she played at seducing him. A sweetish, almost cloying aroma of arousal, mixed with something deeper—the scent of desire that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

Squeezing her hand tighter, he turned to her, as if wanting to catch her gaze, which she stubbornly kept down, examining only the floor beneath her feet, counting each step.

"Those who defeat the sweet couple will pass the trial," suddenly came the Etherian's quiet voice, yet everyone heard it, and everyone turned their gaze on them.

"Of course," bitterness flashed through Sumarel's thoughts, and she quickened her pace, pulling Alpha by the hand, wanting to overcome the trial faster. Only at that moment her left foot, instead of taking a normal step forward, turned sideways, causing her to nearly fall, pulling Alpha with her, who jerked sharply to the right. Their clasped hands stretched taut, throwing both off balance.

Standing in the middle of the hall—having gone halfway—she'd expected it wouldn't be easy, but affecting the body too? What would come next? But this didn't worry her much, because, releasing his hand and turning to face the others, she was already preparing for the worst. And of course, it happened—one of them was already rushing forward, and he definitely wasn't coming to help.