Hugo was gone, and Dean refrained from sending me to the Fathers since my last visit with Valentine. I also did my best to keep my trouble-making out of his view. A few of my classmates and those from other classes thought Oralan's cry was hilarious, but I thought it was ironic.
Five years ago, Oralan laughed at the disappearance of older students, but as his time came, reality struck. However, out of all the students, Crisis made a day out of it for days on end. Her taunts and comments did not sit well with me. I hated it to the point I wanted to make her pay—to make her understand, and so I came up with a plan.
For days, I kept a journal in a blank book hidden in the writing room while observing her place in lines, the stall she chose at the shooting range, the writing room she worked in, and what she ate in the mess hall.
Two weeks later, she barely brought up Oralan, but my scheme was already coming. She used the same washroom stall every day, almost fighting for it at times. I figured it was because the stall had no dripping leathery container.
Since we always had to pump water into the container, the water was always cold, and we never sought to test the temperature. As soon as the container was finished, so was our bathing time.
It was easy to position six students in front of her and take her stall because they all loved to lollygag on their way from the writing rooms. Inside the stall, I bathed as usual, but once I was done, I secretly heated the blackened pipe for as long as possible.
The pipe barely radiated any signs of being heated to an insane degree before I moved onto the tin pipe connecting the pump to the container. I only spent a little time on it as the redness would become too visible.
I exited the bathroom, thinking this ploy would not work, and even if it did, chances were high that it fell on someone else—I would not care if it did. I also figured the cold water would quickly cool down the pipes, but as I stood back a line, a painful screech tore into our ears.
The class was on the verge of running to see, but Dean pushed us aside and hurried in.
DEAN
What the hell is wrong with you?
I heard him shout.
CRISIS
The water was hot!
She cried.
DEAN
Then stop heating it too hot! Get up! Get out!
I turned back to look. My eyes widened at the sight of her deformed skin pattern, blushed by water burn, and her scalp burned, leaving streaks of baldness through her blue hair. Dean rushed her out while communicating to the Father on his Scryer.
DEAN
You all get dressed!
He ordered the unbathed, and they complained in response.
DEAN
Get dressed! Now!
We all quickly dressed and followed behind Dean, who escorted Crisis into the care of the Fathers. He then escorted us to our barracks, and we shuffled in. Dean slammed the door and locked the latch.
AMBURLO
It was Pain,
He accused,
AMBURLO
I know it was.
I got into my bed, ignoring the stares of half the class who could not bathe.
PAIN
We are all Mages,
I explained.
PAIN
But not even I could do magic to do something like that.
A few shrugged and mumbled insults before heading off to bed. Amburlo, Trevor, Delve, and Sky still accused me with their eyes.
PAIN
Besides, Crisis was an idiot. She burned herself.
TREVOR
You better sleep with one eye open.
Despite his age, Trevor had the weakest control of Fire, but he was bigger than me in brawn.
PAIN
Sure, you should too—
I eyed him,
PAIN
—less you want to disappear too.
He winced and stared at me briefly before heading to bed. That night, I attempted to stay awake, but before I knew it, I was hopping out of bed the following day to stand in line. I looked over and noticed Trevor and Sign were gone.
Crisis and I were now the older ones. I glanced at her—after losing her looks and obtaining bald spots, an aura of dark gloom engulfed her. Even Sky, who she probably considered a friend, laughed at her. I wondered how long before Crisis would snap.
Two weeks apparently. On Thirsday evenings, scribes were sent to aid other castle officials—whether maids or, frighteningly enough, subordinates of nobles. I was assisting Scholar Lao Gala with the fiends on the third sub-level of the fourth floor when I overheard the news.
Lao, clothed in protective animal hide clothing and the green and golden cloak of the Scholar, had just returned from his workroom with a rocagle on a leash at his side—a gigantic sleek bird with a rainbow of colorful wings that floated alongside Lao. As a Scholar, he oversaw the investigation and application of the effects of magic in fiends, animals, plants, and numerous other biological and non-biological entities.
He also oversaw Fiend Keepers, who studied fiends; Animal Keepers, who dealt with animals, on the second sub-level; botanists, who dealt with plants, on the first sub-level; and Hierologists, who studied ancient magical text on the fourth sub-level.
Though, Scholar Lao did not have the Scholar class if my memory serves me correctly. But he has the title as I caught myself eyeing the wand in his hand.
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SCHOLAR LAO
What is with that smile, son?
He asked a Fiend Keeper, Juda, clothed in similar black protective clothing, who had just entered from the stairwell.
JUDA
Sorry, Master, a ridiculous incident happened at the Psi Towers.
I stroked the neck of a tightly muzzled blindinu, a wolf-like fiend, as it rested its purring head upon my shoulder while another Fiend Keeper, Agni, collected fur with a decamping brush.
SCHOLAR LAO
Is that so?
Juda peeked over at me,
JUDA
How does he do that?
He asked, questioning my ability to keep the blindinu calm, for even he, the keeper, had difficulty doing so.
SCHOLAR LAO
Focus, Juda,
Lao guided the rocagle back into its cage and took off its leash,
SCHOLAR LAO
The incident,
He pulled out his wand and flicked at the cage door.
SCHOLAR LAO
What of it?
I watched as the stone blocks dividing the cages merged with the cage door's edge.
JUDA
I think,
He looked back at me, grabbing my attention.
JUDA
I think it was a scribe from your class, Ire.
Lao folded his arms,
SCHOLAR LAO
To the point, Juda.
JUDA
Sorry, a girl leaped off the towers.
Lao was taken back,
SCHOLAR LAO
What! Why?
Juda shrugged.
I did not take comfort in Crisis's death. On the contrary, I felt guilty and ashamed. I never expected my revenge to have such a dire outcome. But, that stupid bitch, why did she have to go off and kill herself over something so damned trivial!? Did she not know her hair would grow back? That her skin would reshape? Our skin was resilient to burns—even the deep cuts and bruises on our backs entirely healed over a few years, with or without healing from our Fathers.
I calmed my anger or attempted to throughout the rest of the day, but I failed once I entered the mess room.
SKY
Crisis was in a crisis and became a crisis herself.
Sky laughed among Delve, Brown, Murray, and a few from other classes as they approached a table.
I clenched my jaws and rushed at them. I did not care if it was my fault Crisis killed herself. I did not care if I had killed her myself. But never have I ever seen the death of someone humorous. And as I stepped and leaped off the table, the fear of being stabbed in my sleep, the fear of being dragged out of a classroom to die, and the fear of falling to my death engulfed me.
INSTRUCTOR MALAKAI
Ire!
It was never the death that frightened me—I feared how I left these plains and how painful it would be. Sky looked over at me, but it was too late, as both my feet collided with her chest.
It was the first time I had been sent to the Fathers since Valentine and Cleric Bernard was not too happy to come and get me. He was one of the few Fathers who always kept their hood up, hiding his facial features.
CLERIC BERNARD
I was in the middle of an essential chanting of a noble's staff, you twit!
He complained as he whipped me.
But since he could not see my face—after each painful whip, a strange brief feeling of bliss came over me, and I smiled along with it.
*****
Every morning after Crisis's death, a sense of annoyance overcame me. I was now the oldest and wondered when I would not wake up every night. But before I knew it, the day of my birth had passed—only realizing it a day after. Despite being regarded as an adult—a gent—I did not feel any different.
And as if I was in a predictable tale, new students joined our class as a new year began. I eyed them from the back of the barracks—Nines, ironically, a nine-year-old mute boy, and Sefirot, whom I noticed was being trained weeks prior by Instructor Malakai in the range a few times. Despite having only ten children in his class, Malakai had an ill nature towards Nines and Sefirot, something about them freaking him out. I overheard Malakai and Dean arguing as I returned from servitude to a culinary maid.
Sefirot was fearful, and rightfully so. He was only five years old, had pathetic flames, and was currently the youngest. Delve and Sky took advantage of his fearfulness, turning him into their little servant. On the other hand, Nines was tormented with insults and shoves since he never spoke a word and kept to himself... well, almost, as he would accompany me in my writing room.
He sat on the opposite side of me, so far away that he would nearly fall off the edge of the bench seat. Nevertheless, I would eye him from time to time to take in his attractive looks—smoky black patterns on purple skin and his lips were bright purple as his long straight hair.
I never said a word to him, but as the weeks passed, I noticed he was sitting closer and closer until he sat right next to me one evening. I waited for him to speak, but all he did was stare into my eyes with his Valentine-like pink eyes. Finally, I forced myself to look away, and he followed my gaze into the book I was reading.
After that day, the class soon realized he was under my protection and left him be. He continued to be silent with everyone, and I did the same with him.
With Master Cain dispatched to war, Dean became the stand-in Master and skimped on his instructor duties—such as calling the Fathers down or seeing us off to bed after we bathed.
With Dean skimping on his duties, I snuck into the fourth floor and down into the stone halls of the third sub-level. No servant or Fiend Keeper would ever return when the eighteenth hour hit. They were done for the day, but Scribe Instructors still came through.
I stopped in front of a cage of the two sleeping blindinus; twice the size of a wolf, they constantly bared their teeth, whether angered or not, and lacked any form of eyes. But as they lifted their heads and sniffed the air—they recognized me.
Like many times before, they sat in front of the cage and seemingly stared at me as I spoke to them.
PAIN
Sorry, guys,
I whispered and sat down in front of the cage.
PAIN
It has been a while, I know.
Blindinus were the least tamable fiend we had. I read books that warned readers never to attempt to train a blindinu. Yet, according to Lao, I was the only one able to calm the fierce beast, let alone touch them, without having them reel around in anger.
Even then, I would never dare to pet them without their muzzles—they were fiends, after all, and some were quite cunning.
PAIN
I have a new friend—
I jerked my head over to the right. Nines!? How the hell!? I barely heard a sound, and as he approached me, his footsteps were as mute as he was. Was he always that silent?
He sat at my side, and the blindinus growled in discontent before returning to rest.
PAIN
Fine,
I whispered back at them.
PAIN
Be that way.
I took Nines to the rocagle that slept upside down and curled into a ball. I scratched the cage bars softly, and the rocagle unfurled itself and floated down towards the bars. Rocagles were extremely playful, but their size and power were too much for the average gent. It was also challenging to keep them interested in the same game, but as I tapped the bars in a particular order, the rocagle observed. Once I was done, it flawlessly tapped the bars with its deadly talons in the exact order.
Nines reached a hand to touch it, but I grabbed him as the rocagle jumped back. Most fiends do not like to be touched, especially by strangers. But the rocagle cocked its head to the side, eyeing Nines carefully through one of its black and yellow-ringed eyes. Then, to my astonishment, it moved forward, sticking its slim head through the bars and brushing up against Nine's extended palm.
Nines inhaled sharply as his entire body floated slightly off the ground. A joyful smile came across his face, and just like that, I knew Nines would become my only friend for the following year. I placed my arms around his waist, and he leaned against my shoulders. I stared into space, distracted and wondering how to keep him safe. Safe from this hidden curse that was haunting those who befriended me.