By the time Zora managed to lug Julius and the Mutant carcass all the way back down to the dorm, it was already eight in the evening, and Marcus and Cecilia had just woken up to meet the two of them by the northern gate.
Given the two had only been half-conscious for most of the day, Marcus and Cecilia spared no effort slapping Julius around, scolding and berating and throwing jabs at the physician for not coming back to them sooner—to which, Julius had nothing to say in return. The timid physician let the two old teachers push him around with nervous stutters while Zora stepped into the common room, scanning the cheerfully hugging groups of children until he spotted Emilia standing in the far corner by herself.
The moment he locked eyes with her was the moment she dashed over in a blur of motion, flinging herself into his waist and knocking him softly back against the wall.
“... Good job leading 2-D down here,” he whispered, reaching into his pocket for a piece of candy. “Here. You probably don’t want dinner with the rest of us, right?”
Emilia nodded furiously and nibbled on the piece of bloodberry candy, wrapping and all; Zora patted her head while the rest of the teachers waded into the common room as well, counting everyone’s heads properly. Zora had already done that, though. Fifty-eight children in total between class 2-A, 2-B, and 2-D. As far as the orphan academy went, every child that could be saved was already here.
The teachers didn’t waste any time.
Marcus immediately swerved towards the kitchen stoves to whip up dinner for the kids, while Cecilia hollered at everyone to go back to their rooms to begin packing up their things: snacks, pillows, their favourite plushies, and whatever else they could feasibly stuff into their satchels. Naturally, a lot of kids had a lot of questions, and they began crowding around Cecilia asking for clarification—Zora stepped in, addressing all of them one by one in their native tongues, telling them exactly what they were going to do.
He’d not talked it out or discussed it with Cecilia, Marcus, or Julius, but they were all probably on the same wavelength anyways. Now that they’d gathered everyone, it was time for them to bolt from the academy.
“We leave first thing tomorrow morning,” he said, switching to the local Sterngott tongue so everyone could hear him clearly one last time. “Get an early and good night’s rest tonight. It’ll be dangerous, and it’ll be a long trek, but the closest borough is only nine days away on foot. You’ve all walked longer and farther than that, haven’t you?”
He could sense the survivor’s spirit within all of them flaring up. One way or the other, they’d all survived on their own for days and weeks before the Headmaster chanced upon them, so they knew suffering; all of them gritted their teeth and looked around anxiously, but none of them complained. None of them threw tantrums about leaving their beloved rooms behind. None of them wept with fear of having to run across the continent again.
To a certain extent, Zora wished they complained just a little—it was unchildlike for them to accept abandoning their new home so easily—but he couldn’t confidently say he could deal with them throwing a tantrum about having to leave now, either.
What terrifyingly strong children you all are.
So, while the children scattered up to their rooms and started packing up their belongings strewn all across the common room, Marcus began steaming up the very last batch of meals they’d have in the academy. Cecilia and Julius waded over to help, and Zora nudged Emilia forward gently; the little girl whirled to look up at him, blinking profusely.
“Take your time packing up your things,” he said. “When you’re done, feel free to just go to bed. I’ll come wake you up in the morning.”
Emilia pouted. It was the first real show of defiance he’d seen from any kid in the common room, so, ironically, he couldn’t help but smile—he nudged her on regardless with a little farewell wave, watching her back with the eyes of a hawk until he was sure she disappeared up the stairs alongside most of the kids.
And now, with her gone, he trudged over to the teachers squabbling about who should get to man which stove.
“... Fuck off the pots, Julius. They’re mine. Go chop the leeks or something.”
“N-No. I need at least… two pots. I have enough herbs to brew… four bowls of medicine… that’ll let all of us digest twenty times as much insect flesh as we’re supposed to."
“Seriously? Marcus, give Julius a pot or two. We’ve a Mutant carcass plus half a dozen giant bug legs stored somewhere, so if we can gobble all of that up by tomorrow morning, we’ll stand a better chance against the bugs on our way to the borough.”
“I’m against performance-enhancing drugs. My muscles are all natural. They’ll wilt if I–”
“M-Muscles don’t wilt, Marcus. They… uh, the correct term is deteriorate–”
“No drugs. I’m not having it.”
“Then you don’t have it, Muscleman, but me and Zora could use them. Do you know how many points we’ve gobbled up the past three days? A bit of medicine to stave off the inevitable food poisoning while we continue gorging on insect flesh would be damn useful–”
Zora kicked Julius in the back of his knees and made him wobble, almost face-planting into the countertop.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“W-What?” he stammered, whirling around to scowl at Zora. “You want the medicine, too, right? I’ve read a bit of… your tier three mutations… and I know what they do, so we can all definitely eat a hundred and fifty points’ worth of insect flesh just for supper tonight. The Mutant-Class' flesh should be worth a lot of points. Then, we can–”
“Not that,” Zora grumbled, grabbing the physician by the collar. “Come with me. There’s something more important I need you to help with.”
----------------------------------------
… As usual, Emilia had no idea what to do in her room.
Standing forlorn and awkward with few thoughts flowing in her mind, she scanned her uncrumpled bed, her empty desk, and her oversized closet from the brightly lit doorway. Her antennae circled around her room. Her nose crinkled as she tried to think about what she wanted to pack up and take away from the academy, but apart from the pretty uniform on her shoulders and the few opened bags of bloodberry candies in her drawers, she had no belongings she could call ‘possessions’.
Swinging her antennae outwards, she watched as the other kids raced in and out of their rooms, begging each other to help with stuffing their favourite toys and trinkets into another’s satchel. Everyone had things they didn’t want to let go of; she’d not been in Amadeus Academy for nearly long enough to develop any attachment to anything, so maybe it was only natural that she was the only one standing there, looking completely dumb and stupid.
Maybe… I just eat?
Looking left and right one last time, she stepped into her room and hooked the door shut behind her. Warmth from the gas lanterns outside faded instantly. She sighed a cold breath of relief as she immediately threw herself towards her desk, ripping out the small bags of candies with saliva running down her chin—and though she considered sitting down properly to peel off the wrappings piece by piece, hunger got the better of her, and she began shoving entire bags into her mouth without care for the wrappings getting stuck in her throat.
She could deal with that later.
Right now, there was nothing on her mind but burning, pulsing hunger, and the more she ate, the more she felt like…
Like a beast.
Like a freak of nature.
Mid-gulp on her fourth bag of bloodberry candies, she looked up advertently and felt her moth senses expanding, growing stronger. She could see everything in her room much, much clearer than ever before, and that included… her.
Her own face.
Her own body.
Thin. Bony. Skeletal. Her silk-like hair was falling down to her shoulders, but her wings were falling all the way to the floor, dragging behind her like the tails of an oversized cloak. The chitin plates on her arms had grown sharper, more jagged, and she felt if she ran her forearms across her desk, she’d shave off an entire layer of wood.
Swallowing anxiously, she dropped her fifth bag of candies and touched her face tentatively—flinching the moment she felt half her face crept over by more chitin plates, hardening and crystallising her features.
… They’re itchy.
She started scratching, claws screeching against her crystallised cheeks.
They’re heavy.
She started prying, trying to twist and scrub the plates off her cheeks.
They hurt.
She slammed two hands onto her desk, holding herself in place, and with the other two hands, she continued scratching and pulling at her own face. She smelled blood in the air and wanted to puke, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her antennae wrapped around her scratching arms as though they had minds of their own and wanted her to stop, but she couldn’t be stopped. Her wings started slapping the floor with heavy thuds, but they didn’t stop her from ripping off an entire chunk of her cheek with a sickening tear—she flung the chitin plates into the window and made it crack, gasping for short, shallow breaths.
Blood trickled down her cheek and plopped onto her desk like the pitter-patters of raindrops, but within seconds, the chitin plates began regenerating over the gaping hole, claiming even more of her face this time.
No!
Don’t!
She clenched her jaw and hissed and dug her claws into her wound, trying to stop the chitin plates from creeping over, but it was useless. Pointless. She cried out as she felt a sharp, aching stab in her lower spine, as though her body was warning her to stop interfering with the mutations… and though the pain certainly made her buckle for a moment, it didn’t stop her from giving up, either.
I don’t… want… to die like this.
I want… to be… hu–
Someone knocked on the door behind her, and it was her saving grace. Her mind jolted back to reality. She was standing hunched over her desk, still holding her bags of candies.
There was no pool of blood on her desk, and there was no crack on the window in front of her.
Her wings were still oversized and heavy, and half her face was still crept over with chitin plates, but had she hallucinated the whole ordeal, after all?
…
Teary-eyed, she kicked her chair out of the way, crawled under her desk, and curled up into a ball as the door slowly creaked open.
Warmth seeped in.
Sounds seeped in.
Irritating.
Annoying.
“... Are you okay, Emilia?”
She bit her tongue and shuffled even deeper under her desk, not stopping until she had to physically crane her head sideways and hug her knees with all four arms just to fit in the cramped, cold space. This way, she couldn’t get out and pounce at Titus without significant effort, giving the boy more time to run away—so it was entirely pointless if Titus just kept walking forward, ignoring her growls and snarls at him to back off.
Don’t come here.
I’ll bite you again.
I’ll hurt you again.
Just let me go to sleep like this, and tomorrow morning, I’ll–
“Sorry for touching your shoulder last night,” he said, sitting down right in front of her, arms planted behind him. “I… didn’t know you didn’t like it. It’s my fault you bit me. I should’ve at least knocked first, right?”
She paused.
Then she angled her head so her milky human eye was staring right at him, and her face went completely inexpressive.
“... What?” she breathed.
“My ear,” he said, pointing at the cloth and bandage on the side of his head, “Miss Sarius stitched it back on for me last night, and Mister Tadius cast ‘heal’ on it just now. He said it’ll be properly reattached after a day or two, so there’s nothing to worry about–”
“Not… that.” Her lips quivered as she hid her face behind her knees again, shuffling even deeper under her desk. “I… but I… I bit you, so why are you saying sorry to me?”
“Because Mister Evander always says touching people without their permission is bad. So, I–”
“Aren’t you scared?” she whispered. “Why are you… so… nice to me?”
In response, Titus tilted his chin back for a second before leaning forward. She tried to shuffle even, even deeper into her little cave, but there was no more room.
So, she could do nothing but watch in silence as he rolled up his uniform trousers, pulling them up to his thighs, and popped off his shoes—he made her face go blank once again as she noticed, for the first time, how strangely sharp and bulky his toes were.
His legs weren’t human.