Mythborn by V. Lakshman

breaks.”
    Tomas looked away, and Giridian could sense fear and shame in the boy’s thoughts. Using that as a clue, he offered him a hand up, then pushed him back onto a waiting stool. “What’s going on?”
    Tomas looked up, but not directly at the lore father, and one could see he did not have the confidence to meet his teacher’s gaze. “Nothing, Master.”
    “Nothing?” Giridian looked away and then back, crouching so he was eye to eye with his student. “You’re distracted and fearful. You weren’t like this before, so I ask again. What’s going on? Answer me truthfully.”
    The boy struggled with something, finally blurting, “They killed them right here and even the lore father couldn’t stop them!”
    The assassins who had infiltrated and killed Thera and her students had left a lasting mark on the Isle. None had escaped unscathed from their attack, least of all Tomas. Giridian took a deep breath, then said, “You must remain focused. While this world allows for distractions, your upcoming Test doesn’t. You must redouble your efforts for we need another Adept to join our ranks.”
    “What if I’m not ready?”
    Giridian clapped the initiate on one burly shoulder. “You’re ready.”
    “How do you know? Initiates fail all the time!” said the student, looking down at the ground.
    “Tomas, you know everything you need to know. If there were an easier way than practice, I would be the first to show you, but there are no secrets or shortcuts. Training is the only way to pass the Test, and I cannot say more. Now, focus .” He raised the boy’s head up and met his gaze with a reassuring smile. “Believe in yourself.”
    Tomas’s expression screwed up, his brows knitting over eyes squeezed shut. It was as if the boy was trying to forget a memory. Then the initiate rubbed a hand over this face and released a held breath. He was not going to let his master down, it seemed. Tomas turned to Giridian and nodded, saying, “Let me try again, Master.”
    Giridian gave the boy a reassuring shake and stepped back, grabbing his stool and retreating to one side of the training area. There was so much work to do, yet it was in these moments that he felt he was accomplishing the most. He put the stool down and then sat heavily, signaling Tomas to begin.
    The boy began with the ceremonial bow, but quickly leapt into his kata, his strikes precise and his stance strong. As the boy wheeled and struck, fighting imaginary opponents as he practiced how to execute perfection, Giridian listened to his rhythm and breathing. Any mistake the boy made would first manifest itself there. As he watched with one eye, his mind wandered, thinking through the many things they’d faced already.
    It had been a few days since Dragor’s departure with Jesyn. The two Adepts would have made the coast by now, yet Giridian had not yet heard from them. While that wasn’t worrisome in and of itself, the idea of them facing those same assassins who had attacked the Isle did. Despite their prowess, Jesyn was untested as an Adept, and Dragor was young himself. Neither had the power or experience of Silbane or Kisan.
    “Impressive.”
    Giridian started at the voice to his right, and was more surprised when Thoth appeared, materializing out of thin air. He began to get up but the Keeper motioned for him to stay seated.
    “Only you can see or hear me, Lore Father. How goes the training?” The Keeper’s eyes seemed to assess Tomas quickly, before looking back to Giridian again.
    Giridian paused halfway up, then reseated himself and shrugged. “One cannot rush the day.”
    “Poetic, but we both know this one must pass. Our ranks grow thin.”
    Tomas whirled, striking out at unseen opponents. He executed a perfect flip over one and then jumped, spin-kicking another. His foot contacted the palm of his hand with a sound like a whip cracking before he landed without a bounce, his stance rock solid.
    When Giridian didn’t answer, Thoth raised