The Ghost of Vermil-Chapter 33: Apple IX

The House of Rules rung with the toll of death bells — the very first sound it made.

The spectating Alephs stirred with commotion. "Professor, did someone die?"

"Worse," Professor Mallory pursed her lips, "They failed."

Apple watched as the front door slammed open and three students walked out grumbling. The sign on the door displayed their results. NIL. They eyed the open door with fury. Diana Rupert pounded her fist onto a column in uncontained frustration. "Damn you!" She cursed back at the room behind her. Their fourth member had not stepped out yet.

Did something happen to him?

Noticing it, Professor Mallory ran into the House of Rules. Apple was frozen despite her curiosity. She had been avoiding him. For every time she neared him, she felt an indescribable type of dread well within her. It unsettled her and she could not bear it.

"He needs a friend there, Apple," Yuri encouraged her, patting her shoulder. Seeing Apple hesitate, he said, "I want to see for myself too."

When Yuri took the first step, a few other Alephs followed. Apple chased after him, suddenly finding the strength in her legs.

Through the wide arching doors, they glimpsed a mundane setting — a brown carpet matching elaborate wooden furnishings, shelves of books on one face of the wall and some unremarkable tapestry on the other. But sprawled before them was Lucas of Vermil, his ocean-blue eyes unblinking and vacant. As he heaved his breaths, Apple felt as though he was looking right at her.

Professor Mallory's efforts to shake him back to reality were all in vain as he lay there limp as a ragdoll, arms splayed over the carpet.

"Is he injured somewhere?" One student asked.

"I don't think so," the professor said, scanning his unresponsive figure from head to toe.

"Perhaps the penalties are too harsh for someone with literally no holy power such as him," said Calla, Apple's team leader.

"He looks so pale."

"He's always been pale."

Professor Mallory turned to her students. "He needs to be brought to the infirmary to be properly examined."

"I'll carry him," Yuri volunteered. "My test is done anyway." He glanced at Apple to give her a nod of assurance.

Two other boys helped drag Lucas's body onto Yuri's back. As he took him away lumbering, their Perception instructor clasped her palms as if in prayer and whispered, "BEACONING SPIRIT." The threads of holy light that poured out of her hands started to entangle and form a recognizable shape. Glowing in threads of holy energy, the hummingbird she created hovered above her, frantically beating the air with its tiny wings.

Not a real creation like Apple's flowers, the avian spirit flitted around the professor in a trail of golden light.

"It's an enchantment that originated in Handilen," Calla whispered to Apple. "Pretty, isn't it? I want to learn it too."

"Find him and lead him to his brother," the professor ordered it. Chirping, the bird zipped into the air, nimbly darting past marble henges towards the auditoriums. She faced her students crowded on the front steps, eyeing the retreating figures of the Eighth Team with concern. "Well, I must say it's not the first time a team failed, albeit it's rare. As you have seen for yourself, no one's going six feet under yet. Although he lost consciousness, that usually never happens in the House of Rules."

"He has no blessing, that is probably why," one Aleph yelled.

"Probably," she said, then grinning evilly, she added. "Or he's just so shaken by the penalty room that he passed out..."

Diana's failure served as a rude awakening for the first-year scholars who thought the Test would be a breeze. All the teams that followed seemed hesitant of taking the third and fourth stage penalties, earning themselves lower but secured scores. Professor Mallory had stopped explaining how the other teams performed. But she kept a menacing expression, just for the sake of unnerving them.

The Fourth Team emerged with a score of 300, taking the lead among the seven teams that had entered the House of Rules so far.

"We aim for 450," Calla cheered with determination. "We're counting on you, Apple!"

The arching door creaked as they entered. The brown and beige study room welcomed them with silence and the scent of dust untouched for centuries. A set of five doors awaited them on the wall.

In one sniff, Apple could tell which door was imbued with the demonic artifact. The putrid smell of it scratched at the inside of her nose. She pointed, "We go through here."

Calla took the vanguard. "After me," she told them.

The odour of silk wafted to Apple's nose as soon she stepped foot in the penalty room, along with it the rot of death.

"AHHH!" A shriek came from their third member, a small lass named Elizabeth. One spider the size of her own hand was crawling on her sleeve.

Calla chanted immediately, "HAND OF THE FAITHFUL!" She pushed with an open palm. Tendrils of holy energy gushed and shaped themselves into a palm that shot towards Elizabeth and crushed the critter before it could bite her. "Activate your shields, we're in a pit of spiders."

Although not more than the size of their fists, the spiders were uncountably numerous. They covered the walls and ceiling. Alerted by the scream, they dropped and crawled to the floor, turning it into a seething carpet of hairy legs and eyes in a matter of seconds.

Elizabeth was trembling in fear.

Calla tried to harden her member's resolve, "Demons are much worse, Elizabeth."

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"Elizabeth," Apple consoled her, "Everything's going to be well. Stay by my side." Then she sang the SONG OF CREATION! This time she pulled from memory the scent and image of chrysanthemums. Bright pink and red needles for petals blooming and bursting together like a grand firework show. Their fragrance as conspicuous as their shade, spicy and sweet, imposing yet calming. Pom pom pom. They bloomed into life around her feet. At the gesture of her hand, each needle broke off from the disc florets and encircled Apple and her two companions.

"MIRACULOUS SONG," Apple used another enchantment, "Flower into Steel!" Each petal hardened like metal, although they retained their vibrant pink and red hue.

Flicking her finger, Apple sent a barrage of needles around her, uncaring whether she was hitting spiders or not. When her attack ended, the floor was covered with the twitching remains of arachnids. Her eyes rounded in shock when a new wave of spiders crawled out from the shadows, scaling the walls, dropping from the ceiling and covering the floor, their numbers unmarred by her efforts. "They're literally endless," she sighed in frustration.

"Did you think I will let you take all the credit," Calla grinned. She bellowed against the oncoming horde, "HANDS OF THE FAITHFUL! LEGS OF THE FAITHFUL!"

Calla of Sister Isles did not have that much a reserve of holy power but her learned talent made efficient use of every drop. She surged with holy energy, forming it into gigantic golden arms and legs that swept and stepped on the spider around them, squishing them into a soup of empty black casks and green blood that soaked their dead kins below, spraying the air with their tangy smell. Every time some escaped, Apple rained steel-hard needles on them before they could scamper back to the dark.

The sound of drumbeats declared the end of the penalty, calling forth a new set of five doors that grew themselves out of the spider-infested walls. Apple immediately knew which one. Amid the mound of dead critters in the room, the aroma of holy power and the stench of demonic energy were still easily discernible, although she noticed their potency had dropped by at least half.

The next penalty room was a soundless prison cell under some dungeon, dingy and smelling of stagnant water and piss and wastes. Apple touched and shook the cold metal bars but they would not budge.

Elizabeth spoke, weeping, "I was useless, please forg..."

The rest of what she uttered never reached Apple's ears. Elizabeth's lips went on moving but her voice came out muffled and unintelligible. The lass soon stopped speaking, having noticed the anomaly herself.

Apple opened her mouth to speak, "I can't..." Soon her own words turned into a hollow mumble, all meaning lost in the air.

Calla released threads of holy energy and formed them into words above them. ROOM MUFFLES WORDS. Apple was impressed by her intricate control of holy energy.

Apple mouthed voicelessly SONG OF CREATION! At least the enchantments worked. She recalled the flowers of the crape myrtle, reminiscing its dark pink petals — almost red — and its subtle scent. They bloomed on the ground before her, spelling the words: WHAT TO DO?

DOORS COME IF WE WAIT.

Without warning, a shrill deafening pitch pealed the air, so loud and sharp that if they did not cover their ears, it would have burst their eardrums.

"What was that?" Elizabeth's voice was suddenly audible.

"How would I know, you useless cunt," Calla's voice snapped.

Both Apple and Elizabeth glanced at Calla, surprised rather than horrified. Is Calla usually this rude?

"What are you staring at, you nincompoops?"

Apple noticed that something else was wrong entirely although she could not point out what it was.

Elizabeth hissed back, "You're just an ugly commoner. You dare talk down to me!"

Calla gasped, confused and offended.

Apple opened her mouth to speak and uttered, "It's the penalty." The two other girls should have heard different for they glared at her for no reason.

"You are a cowardly bitch, Apple," sounded Calla's voice.

The movement of their lips did not match their words, she figured. Apple conjured myrtle flowers again, forming the words, YOU HEAR DIFFERENT FROM WHAT I SAY. IT'S THE PENALTY. She pinched her mouth and shook her head, signalling them to refrain from speaking lest they say words they did not mean.

If they were a fragile group, they would have failed.

Then another ringing disturbed the room, making them cover their ears.

While the sound lingered inside her ear faintly, something whispered beside her. 'Apple, you are a fool.' She turned but saw no one there.

Calla touched her arm and flashed the words, WHAT IS IT?

She shook her head, dismissing it as an invention of her own mind. Yet it whispered again, now more articulate, 'You deceive yourself.'

On the floor, Apple formed the words with pink blossoms, I HEAR WHISPERS.

WHAT SORT?

THE STUPID SORT. Apple wrote out of spite. Stupid whispers they were.

Once more she heard it mumble in her head, 'Cut the strings, Apple.' Her skin crawled, skin bristling.

She began to hate the room then. Yet she saw through the taunt, that was why she collected herself and took in a deep breath and yelled at the wall. "SHUT UP, YOU MORON!" She did not care how the two girls heard it.

Her heart skipped when the drums pounded at last. THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! Five identical doors protruded from the walls at each beat. Without a word, she strode to a door and slammed it open, loathe to staying in that prison any longer. Her friends dashed after her, calling her name.

"Careful!" Elizabeth hissed, yanking Apple back by the end of her coat before she went one step closer to the edge of a bottomless hole. A narrow ledge — barely half a foot wide — ran along the four walls and overlooked a pit of unfathomable depth. Apple and Elizabeth had to sidle on gingerly across the wall so that Calla could enter, the flat of their feet shuffling on the sliver of ground they had left to step on. There was nothing to grab onto but a smooth stone wall. When the door disappeared, they were left clinging to it, backs pressed flat, heels balanced precariously on the ledge. It would take only one misstep for them to plummet to their untimely demise.

Apple smelled it before they even heard it. A rotting breath heaved up from the gaping hole. After it came the wriggly groan of a starved creature. Whatever it was, it had noticed their presence. Rock eroded as it began to scale the walls of the chasm with the sound of struggle.

"It's coming!"

Apple chanted her SONG OF CREATION, imagining the sight of cherry blossoms in early spring, their petals raining down as the wind stirred them aloft, the breath-taking scenery awash with their soft and creamy scent.

"It's so pretty. I wish I could do that too," Calla remarked in awe as the walls and the ceiling bloomed with cherry blossoms right before her eyes. As if nudged by some breeze, the petals cascaded onto the dark opening on the floor.

"MIRACULOUS SONG: Flower into Light!" Apple sang. Each pink bud turned luminescent, dabbing the entire chamber in their whitish pink glow. She sent the radiant mass of blossoms deep into the pit, dispelling the dark and revealing a pair of monstrous milk-white eyes looking up at the pink shimmer of petals, its drivelling tongue lashing up hungrily at them. It squirmed its cumbersome tentacles as it closed in on them.