Leonotis's heart leaped into his throat.
He'd only told one person that – the skinny boy from the first night.
He glanced around the room, but the boy wasn't among the other children.
He hadn't seen him since that first evening.
Later, he found Low tending a small patch of wilting flowers in the otherwise barren yard.
"Low," he said urgently, "the caretaker knows I'm twelve. How…?"
Low looked surprised, then a shadow crossed her face.
"That boy… the one you were talking to the first night? Don't trust him. He's been here since I arrived, three years ago. He should have been sent to the war when he turned thirteen, since he was never adopted, but he's still here. He's… odd."
"But did he tell the caretaker my real age?" Leonotis asked, confused and a little scared.
Low shrugged. "Maybe they just guessed. Or maybe… maybe he tells them things," she said.
"I'm twelve too. I'll be of age soon."
"Will you… will you have to go to the war?" Leonotis asked.
Low gave a harsh, humorless laugh.
"Women aren't allowed in the army. The orphanage will just sell me off to the highest bidder. Married off to some farmer's son who can't find a wife any other way."
Her eyes hardened.
"The same will happen to you, now that they know you're twelve. Once they figure out if you have any ase 'attributes,' you'll be sold to some wealthy family to breed more little asebearers."
"Gethii and Chinakah will be back for me before that could happen."
"Are they telling the king good news or bad news?" Low said, her hands on her hips.
"Welll, it isn't good news but… I was already tested," Leonotis said, a desperate hope flickering within him. "I don't have any magic."
Low's expression turned even grimmer.
"Then you're in an even worse position. They'll probably just send you straight to the war. No one wants a non-aseborn twelve-year-old boy for breeding."
She looked around the yard, her eyes darting nervously.
"Listen, Leonotis. I can't stay here. I won't let them sell me off. The way out… I think I know a way. If you want to come with me… we can leave together."
Leonotis was jolted awake by a gentle hand shaking his shoulder.
Low's face, usually hardened with a weary resignation, was now alight with a nervous energy.
"Leonotis," she whispered urgently, her voice barely audible above the soft snores of the other boys. "For the auction… are you absolutely sure you're going to tell that ogre of a Director your birthday is tomorrow?"
Leonotis, still groggy, nodded firmly.
"Yes. Thirteen tomorrow."
A small, rebellious thrill flickered within him at the thought of this new deception.
Low's grip tightened on his arm.
"Good. When they come for you, to take you to the… auction area, I'll follow. It's supposed to be down in the old sewer system. We'll make our escape then, after I create a distraction. I managed to… acquire some tools."
She reached into the folds of her threadbare dress and produced two crudely sharpened metal forks, their tines honed to points.
"Are you sure you don't want one?"
Leonotis shook his head, reaching under his thin mattress.
He pulled out the sturdy root he'd found by the gnarled tree in the yard, its shape surprisingly sword-like.
"I have this."
Low eyed the stick with a mixture of skepticism and reluctant admiration.
"Alright, then. Be careful with that. It's almost midnight. I need to go, before they notice I'm gone."
She squeezed his arm again.
"Be ready."
With a final, furtive glance around the darkened room, she slipped away.
Leonotis lay back down, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Sleep eventually claimed him, and he dreamt of a massive, vibrant garden, unlike anything he'd ever seen in the dusty orphanage.
A winding path led towards a dark, mysterious cave nestled at the foot of a towering, ancient tree.
The next day crawled by with agonizing slowness.
Leonotis and Low went to the dreary orphanage yard after their perfunctory chores.
Low, her eyes sharp and focused, explained that she'd seen the male caregiver practicing with throwing knives when he thought no one was watching.
So, while Leonotis practiced dodging and blocking imaginary blows with his stick, Low diligently hurled rocks at a cracked wooden fence, her aim improving with each throw.
When her aim was sharp enough, she threw them at Leonotis, who blocked and dodged them easily.
"That stick…" Low said, pausing in her throwing practice, her gaze fixed on Leonotis's makeshift sword. "It really does look like a proper blade. Where did you find it?"
"Just by the big tree," Leonotis replied.
He couldn't shake the feeling that the stick was somehow stronger than the last one he found.
As if he could sense power radiating from it.
That night, as the meager dinner of watery soup was being served, the Director, her sharp eyes glinting in the dim light, approached Leonotis.
"Tonight, you'll be having dinner at a… special place," she said, her tone devoid of any warmth.
Two burly figures flanked her.
They blindfolded him roughly and led him away, the rough fabric digging into his eyes.
Leonotis found himself standing on a makeshift stage, the rough wooden planks cold beneath his bare feet.
The only real source of light in the cavernous room was a large, smooth stone pedestal in front of him, the Attribute Stone, glowing with a soft, internal luminescence.
Dim torches flickered around the perimeter, casting long, dancing shadows that obscured the faces of the small crowd gathered in the darkness.
The Director stood beside him, her voice oily as she addressed the unseen audience.
She described his "remarkable work ethic," his "unquestioning obedience," and the "untapped potential" she was sure he possessed.
Then, she turned to Leonotis, her gaze cold and intimidating.
"Touch the Stone, boy."
Leonotis's heart hammered in his chest.
He tried to scan the shadowy crowd for any sign of Low, any hint of an escape route, but the darkness swallowed everything.
"Come on," the Director hissed, her hand gripping his arm tightly.
With a trembling hand, Leonotis reached out and placed his palm on the smooth, cool surface of the Attribute Stone.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, a dark stain began to spread across the stone beneath his hand, like ink bleeding into water.
Leonotis's heart sank.
My black ase… it's coming back.
But then, the blackness began to swirl, and a vibrant, deep green started to emerge from within it, pushing back the darkness until the stone pulsed with a swirling vortex of emerald light.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.