The silver moonlight from a trifecta of moons that hung in the night sky was spilling over the courtyard, pale light spilling down on us initiates with silent judgment.
My chest still ached faintly from the beat of my heart straining in my chest. The test itself wasn't difficult per se but the anxiety of hiding my identity was almost overwhelming.
But I passed without faltering, passed with a speed that made the overseers raise their brows and scribble notes.
When I heard the robed man say "Accepted," his voice flat and emotionless, my heartbeat had started racing out of my body.
We had then been sent to a large building with a reception area where I had been given a small lacquered box that barely fit into my palm.
Inside lay a thin iron key, darkened with use, and I was also given a folded bundle of pale-grey robes that smelled faintly of dried herbs.
