[Slate]

Ozryn, Ayres’ Castle.

“Just let them be, they won’t learn,” Thea said, knitting an unending white muffler that piled up on the red carpet. The brown leather office chair squealed as she rocked back and forth. “Every single one of them is a blood sucking leech, using the façade of revenge…”

“Yes ma’am,” Slate said, bowing a forty-five degree; several strands of his black hair fell over his thick-rimmed glasses.

“No, forget that.” She clicked her tongue and stopped knitting. “They really need to stop acting out like this, he already has nothing left anymore.”

“Yes ma’am.” He bowed again.

She threw the knitting needles on the office desk in front of her and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t care about him, I really don’t…but I can't just sit around and do nothing,” she muttered. Her leg bounced up and down, her pointy heels tapped on the floor, she fidgeted.

“Ma’am, did Ms. Lumen not come today?”

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.” Her jitters dimmed, her legs slowed down, and she leaned all the way back with a deep breath. “Where’s my mother, has she arrived yet?” The chair uttered another despairing groan.

Must change the chair today, Slate narrowed his eyes and made a mental note.

Her fingers drummed on the armrest as she swirled the chair around and gazed at the entrancing view outside the reinforced glass walls. This building reached for the sky, the tallest in their colony, Ozryn, and their floor topped all. It still couldn’t surpass the ‘walls’, but inside, they had no contenders. Yet, the glorious days with Authen were long gone. The market value of ‘Ayres Castle’ plunged since the day he died, they barely stood operable now, in the colony and the hub stratum, and they all blamed Ewan for it. They hoisted the hypocritical flag of revenge for Thea’s father, but greed was all they had to offer…

“Sunbird has already docked, ma’am. But she took Sir Leaf with her to meet some friends, they should be here by dusk.”

“Hmm.” She hummed a nod, spun the chair back, and faced him, tucking the stray black hair behind her ear. “Forget it, just let them do whatever they want, they’re just venting on him anyway,” she said. “Tell them to show some restraint though, they harm a hair on him again, and I’ll raze their business to the ground.”

“Yes ma’am.” Slate bowed again and remained there for a while.

“You can go now.” She picked up the needles again and knitted while rocking back and forth, the chair creaking beneath.

He waited for her to flip again, but she didn’t this time. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and went out with another bow, loosening his tie when he was out. That lazy bitch Lumen was testing of his patience, he needed to have a good talk with her; after all, her serenity potions were vital for Thea.

…..

[Ewan]

Obria, First Institute.

Ewan slumped on his desk and gazed at the gloomy Barrentide sky from the third-floor window. Birds soared off in a ‘V’ formation, chilly gusts swayed the withered trees and blew the dead auburn leaves away—the cloudy weather resonated with his mood when the wind met his sigh. He was at a loss on what to do.

Mr. Worth continued the lecture at the podium, unshaven today yet still perky as ever, but nothing reached his ears. His mind was on his Sols, or a lack thereof. Business was down this month. He only earned some pocket-change from the regular customers, that too came out of pity no doubt, and he was already out. He didn’t have enough to even eat lunch or dinner tonight. He always skipped breakfast; his stomach had long stopped growling for the morning grub. But today, it just didn’t shut up. His last meal was that half a sandwich from four days ago—cold cucumbers and lettuce against the salted slab of yellowed cheese squeezed between two stale slices of bread—and today’s afternoon passed without food too. Luckily the desk wasn’t the shared type, else the grumbling complaints would’ve pricked him by now.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The capacious mansion that was his house, the pricey furniture that adorned the place, the chunky fence that defended his premise along with the biometric setup—they all screamed riches, yet the ‘owner’ verged on starvation. All because that old man locked his inheritance behind his eighteenth birthday and tied his hands, he couldn’t touch anything inside without the deed, not even the decorative piece of fruit bowl on the table…

The fact had him fuming on the gloomy evenings when the dwindling finances weighed on his mind, but he understood the intention behind it as he grew older. If he possessed it all as a weak kid, the thorns that came with such wealth might’ve pricked him to death by now. He wouldn’t be an obscure kid just doing his best to survive then, instead he would be the optimal target of anything and everything wicked.

He sighed again and closed his eyes. He imagined the bench as his bed and sprawled, at least he could preserve some energy that way. His dire situation kept him awake last night. Now, his dry eyes stung, the dark circles deepened, and the disorientation hammered him.

A piece of chalk came flying and smacked his head as he was about to doze off into the dream world.

“The value of constants can change in different worlds as several Ashevas have proven it. You’ll have to adjust your spells with that in mind. All Starons have their advantage.” Mr. Worth eyed Ewan while continuing, “We humans aren’t any different. Our body isn’t fit to control Anima by nature, we can't become Ashevas naturally like many other Starons. There have been rare cases of newborns with natural affinity, even their bodies get attuned to the element since they contact the Anima in their fetal stage, but they’re the exceptions not the rules. For most of us, that isn’t a possibility. We’re good at adapting though, and that’s why we could stand at the top. Wisdom rules all, remember that.”

He gave him a few seconds’ glare then turned around and resumed the half-finished equation on the blackboard.

Ewan rubbed his head, where the chalk hit, and patted the white powder off. He couldn’t even sleep in peace. Even with his seat in the last row, in the corner by the window, the wordy toad could still spot him sleeping. The bastard got some good eyes, Ewan groaned. If he didn’t fix his Sols problem soon, he wouldn’t live for long anyway, discipline in class was the least of his problems.

The alleyway that brushed the back of their school building and headed towards his residential area was a good place to ‘borrow’ Sols from someone…his hollowed stomach drove his brain to think of a solution as he peeked at the desolate entrance of the alley through the window. But could he borrow anything? He was skin and bones after all, the muscles and the fat had all burnt away to keep him alive on rainy days. Not to mention his coming of age was soon, a black mark on his record could prove devastating to his situation. He might lose access to his inheritance if someone tripped the official process of authentication and transfer, many were eager to see that happen, and their hands itched to make it come true…

At least the water was free; he took out the frosted plastic bottle from his bag and filled his stomach with the chilled water, consoling its growl for now. Before long, however, it would rumble again.

…..

The long clangs of the bell ended the last period, and Ms. Ridgell clicked her tongue at the barely finished formula of the Aenon solution on the blackboard. Her being the obsessive but still a kind ma’am, she looked at the haggard students and closed her register, bidding them farewell for the day. The students yawned and stretched their bodies—Ewan did too, and his joints popped. The garbled chatters, the clicking bag clamps, and the scraping chairs took over the class as the swarm walked out in batches of two and three. Ewan went out when the crowd dwindled, slinging his bag over his right shoulder, shaky on his feet.

The corridor stretched endlessly before him, and the bottom of the stairs was an eternity away, each step challenged his wobbly self. The juniors had the bottom floors while the seniors sat at the third and fourth, he grumbled at the unfairness of the world as he walked down, the railing taking his side against the stairs and supporting his descent. The young ones had the energy to walk several flights of stairs in the morning, he was already too old for this, and his stomach growled again.

When he reached the ground floor and exited the building, to the plaza, the time of the decision dawned. The alleyway was on his left, beyond the football field. Junk cluttered the bleak path, the carpet of dead leaves made it dismal, even the light dimmed past its entrance; it was the perfect place to ‘borrow’ from someone. Anyone who walked in was either a prey, a predator, or someone who looked to get frisky with his girl. Someone would borrow and the others would lend, the transaction never ended in this alley.

And before his rationale could even finalize his decision, his legs took him towards the infamous passage. If he couldn’t borrow himself, he could help others borrow, the light bulb flashed over his head—the threat of Mr. Zane making rounds always worked. The sound of his cane grating against the paved floor terrified the alley dwellers, for he used it more than his words.

The cake couldn’t all be Ewan’s, but he could still get a slice, that was enough for him to survive for now. If he still couldn’t, if his luck was just that bad, then he had to knock on Nana’s door shamelessly. Even if she didn’t care for him anymore, she might feed him something, minding their years of relationship. He was her fiancé after all, even if only in name now. But…was she eating properly herself…

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