I made a point to slowly load my books into the rucksack I brought with me to carry my textbooks, deliberately taking my time as I waited for the last student to shuffle out of the classroom. Once the door clicked shut behind them, I approached the front of the room and stood in front of Wornsworth.
“Why did you call me Orin, Professor?” I asked, my voice steady but laced with curiosity.
Worns worth sighed heavily, removing his spectacles and gazing up at me with his dark brown eyes, which seemed to hold a world of untold stories. “Because you happen to look exactly like him,” he replied, his tone softening as he continued, “and he was my best friend.”
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Worns worth nodded, as if he understood the internal struggle. “I know that. But sometimes, like today for instance..the challenge in your voice and your posture. it was like staring back at orin when he disagreed with something" he smiled softly at what seemed a fond memory
My smile widened at the thought that Professor Wornsworth knew my father personally. "What was he like?" I asked softly. He returned my gaze with a warm smile and gestured for me to take a seat beside him. I nodded and settled down, eager for the stories that would connect me to the man I barely remembered.
After taking a deep breath, he grasped my hands. "Your father was stubborn and just. He was the driving force behind the creation of this great academy. It used to be just a headquarters for shades, a place focused solely on mastering the art of killing. He was the one who introduced the concept of the four-man teams we use today."
His words painted a vivid picture of my father's dedication and vision, and a sense of pride welled up in me. “He was kind and gentle, much like you,” he added, and my chest swelled at the compliment. "He was very smart and often didn’t see eye to eye with Achron," he continued with a chuckle as he saw the recognition in my expression.
Hearing about my father's struggles with Achron felt familiar, a reflection of my own relationship with Abraxes. We had our moments of friction, as our paths often seemed at odds. The shared history of conflict brought a comfort that I didn’t realize I needed.
Professor Wornswythe continued, “He also had a love for plants and alchemy. From what I’ve read about your previous education, I’d say you spent plenty of time in a greenhouse.”
I couldn’t help but smile wryly. “Is it that obvious?”
He laughed, his voice warm and inviting. “See that there? That was a response I’d expect from Orin.”
The professor continued, "You and he both get this look on your face when you're about to blow a gasket if someone is incorrect, just like you did today. Gods, the way you stood up and practically yelled at me... he did the same at one time to our own history teacher, that look on his face saying he was determined to get his damn point across. It’s the way both of your eyes darken from one shade of blue to another."
I pulled at my fingers, anxious to ask the next question. "And my mother?"
Wornsworth sighed, letting out a deep breath. "Nyreah... she was impossibly beautiful. You resemble her, but you inherited the chunky cheeks from your father, and your eyes have the spark of light in them that hers lacked. She was... very cold."
A silence settled in the room, heavy with unasked questions.. The connection between us felt tangible yet distant, like a thread barely holding on. What did it mean to be her child, yet so different from her in spirit?
"You're definitely a mix of them both," Professor Wornsworth continued, his tone light yet measured. "Your fathers blood runs deep in you. Lillibeth always believed you’d take after her, but I see your father shining through as well." He gestured to various features—your jawline, the way your hair turned the color of snow on the first frost fall.-"
“Madam Lillibeth knew my dad?” The words slipped out, full of surprise. It was strange to think of the woman who had been such a presence in your life as someone intertwined with your parents.
A hint of nostalgia crossed over Wornsworth's face. "Yes, indeed. He was her tutor in alchemy, after all. They shared a strong bond—a mentor’s respect turned into a lasting friendship. You have your mother’s shape but orins slender build, but your nose? That’s definitely Orin’s. And your hair color, even the white, is inherited from him. Tynon's turns crimson, but yours… well, it’s a more subtle touch on just the very tips of our hair."
Before you could respond, you heard a familiar scoffing sound echo in your mind. "Well, of course! Achron was the Prince of Madness, after all. Naturally, we’re the prettier ones," Abraxis quipped, his voice dripping with playful arrogance.
You stifled a laugh, but Professor Wornsworth caught your eye, raising an amused eyebrow. "Let me guess—your demon had something to say?"
You nodded, amusement sparkling in your eyes. "He does often, yes. Abraxis is... strange, for sure,” you replied, shaking your head slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips.
Wornsworth chuckled softly, “Know this, Kiri, your father loved you very much. After five years in an arranged marriage with your mother, his greatest wish was to conceive a flawless child. Your conception and Nyreah’s pregnancy were the happiest moments of his life. You were his one true love.”
Kiri felt a swell of emotions at his words, a mix of gratitude and confusion. She wanted to believe him, to feel the warmth of that love wrap around her like a comfort.
“What does that even mean for me, though?” i said softly
Wornsworth’s expression softened as he regarded her. “Love is complicated, Kiri. take that knowledge with a grain of salt, love is unconditional even from the grave he cares and watches over you. you were the only thing he lived for. now then, as much as i have enjoyed our chat i have another class to teach and you have poisons to get too.”
As I exited the classroom, but before I could gather my thoughts, Azune as if summoned there stood against the wall, his expression unreadable. It was too late to brace myself; in a heartbeat, he crossed the hallway and slammed me against the wall, the impact jarring my already broken shoulder. I winced but bit my lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a cry.
His gaze was fierce, narrowed into a dangerous glare. "How the fuck are you not dead?" he demanded, his voice low and laced with frustration.
I struggled against his grip on my throat, barely managing to reply, "Better question is how are you not dead? We smoked the same joint." My breath came in ragged gasps, the pressure of his hand tightening uncomfortably.
He squinted at me, a mix of annoyance and disbelief etched on his face. "I have built an immunity to most toxins. How the hell did you cure it? I made sure you couldn't make an antidote."
Gasping for air, I replied, "I didn’t cure it. I nullified the poison enough to evade death. I still don't have feeling in the tips of my fingers, and I had a killer headache—still have that. The body aches? They aren't gone either." I steadied myself, meeting his gaze with defiance. "And yet, here I am, still standing."
For a moment, silence hung between us, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—respect? Anger? I couldn't tell.
His grip tightened on my throat, anger radiating off him like heat from a fire. “Drop out.” The command was as cold as ice, but there was an edge to it that sent a tremor through me. “Today, I want you to go before the council and tell them it’s too dangerous for someone as valuable as yourself to remain in Shadow Briar.”
What? He wanted me to throw everything away? No. I might have my doubts about being here, but I’d be damned if this maniac was going to force me out. “Fuck you,” I spat, my defiance igniting within me like a flare.
With a sudden, violent motion, he yanked me off the wall and slammed me back against it, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs and sending stars dancing across my vision. I growled through the pain, feeling rage surge to the surface. “Drop out!” he insisted, his voice a low growl.
A laugh bubbled up from deep within, surprising even me as I looked down at him, a smirk threatening to break free. “Careful, Azune. Your immaturity is showing.” I met his furious eyes with a challenging gaze, my voice dripping with mockery. “You’re acting like an angry child.”
The tension electrified the air around us, and I could see the fury warring with a sense of disbelief on his face. He was not used to being mocked, especially not by someone he deemed beneath him. I could feel the pulse in my throat where his fingers pressed.
“Is that really your strategy? Bullying me into submission? You think you can just scare me away? You’ve got another thing coming.” My voice was steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins.
i stepped in to the greenhouse where poison class was taking place today and found a seat in the back as to not disrupt professor combs " for those of you who could be bothered to show up on time what are the effects of white bell" I could feel Professor Combs' disdain along with everyone else's gaze as I spoke up after several wrong answers " whitebell is used in healing potions but can also be used as a paralytic, it has a secondary purpose to nullify the effects of monksvein" But instead of feeling triumphant, she just stared at me with hatred.
"Correct," she bit out, her irritation palpable. It was like a dark cloud hung over me every time she looked at me, as if my very existence was a constant reminder of someone she wished to forget. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on the lesson rather than the animosity directed my way.
Around the room, my classmates exchanged glances, some admiring, others filled with pity. As Professor Combs moved on to the next topic, I leaned back in my chair and glanced around the greenhouse. Surrounded by the lush, vibrant greenery.
The rest of the week seemed to drag on in the same way; we were no longer sparring in combat training but instead working with dummies, focusing on combinations and strategy. Each day wore me out more than the last, my muscles aching and my mind spinning with plans and techniques that felt foreign to me.
As I struck the practice dummy with a series of swift punches, I could feel the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. It was a relentless cycle of repetition, and while I understood the importance of mastering the basics, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was merely going through the motions it was alomost as if i now craved it to be someone else and not a damn dummy.
My classmates seemed to thrive in this environment, their laughter punctuating the air as they encouraged one another, sharing tips and strategies. kaliegh and i talked about other things like her weird attraction to marcus cotter. he was definately an odd choice for her, deep brown eyes and tawny skin with a head of curly black hair.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not find the reason for her odd attraction to that man. A month had gone by, and although I had improved in my combat training, I still needed help; however, overall, I was doing very well. This morning, I received a summons to the council. I was certain my grandfather wanted to assist me in my educational growth—it was his way.
As I made my way to the cavern beneath the school, I felt the familiar chill of the mountain air, of course we were still in the mountain why didnt that surprise me. The twelve council members had gathered, their presence tangible like a charge in the air.
I stepped down the last set of stairs, ensuring my uniform was tied flawlessly; there was no room for error with the Council of the Twelve Shades. The dark fabric hugged my form almost suffocating me with the anxiety deep in my chest
As I reached the cavern floor, a wave of apprehension washed over me. The council members were seated in a semicircle, shrouded in shadow yet their eyes glimmered with an intensity that felt both intimidating and exhilarating.
There he was, sitting directly in the center—my grandfather, Tynon Darksbane, his face practically beaming with excitement. "Ah, there she is! My son’s only daughter, Kirishina! My dear granddaughter!" he exclaimed loudly as he stood from his seat.
The warmth of his welcome was almost overshadowed by the heavy atmosphere that clung to me. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the cavern upon me, their gazes burning in to me taking me apart peice by peice every one of their eyes glimmering with curiousity. My heart raced, conflicting emotions swirling inside me.
“Thank you, Grandfather,” I managed to say, forcing a smile as I approached him. Each step felt like walking through a sieve, scrutinized and analyzed.
He enveloped me in a tight embrace, the musky scent of aged parchment and something distinctly him washing over me. I could hear the whispers of the crowd, gossip and speculation weaving through their conversations. Behind the jubilance of my grandfather’s greeting lay the unspoken tension that I could hardly shake off.
He pulled back, a proud smile on his face, looking at me as if I were the embodiment of all his hopes and ambitions. “Today is a momentous day, Kirishina! You’ll make the family proud.” There it was—this was a show for his own personal spectacle of strength My throat tightened as I nodded, his excitement infectious yet suffocating.
“Let’s show them what you’re made of!” he declared, turning to the audience, gesturing grandly as if showcasing a prized jewel. the other council members looked on excited judgments and anticipations pooling around me.
I looked up at Tynon, confusion flickering in my eyes. “What am I made of, sir?” I asked, unsure of what he was requesting. Before he could answer, Torrence Stone, Azune’s father, spoke up. “Kirishina, my, my, it has been an age since I saw you last. How you have grown, my dear. I heard that my son Azune has been giving you quite a bit of grief. Is it true he made an attempt to poison you?” The amusement in his voice was clear.
I turned to him and narrowed my gaze. “Yes, what he neglected to include in his calculations was my knowledge of plants and herbs. Though I haven’t seen him in almost a month, and as my mentor, it seems he is better at neglecting his duties,” I replied sharply.
It was true. Azune was supposed to be assisting me in both my combat training and my botany studies for poison class, but naturally, he had been avoiding it. It made sense—he didn’t want to be my mentor, so why should he try? torrences gaze fell as he pursed his lips together " i will speak with him, ignoring his duties is not exceptible. regaudless of who you are, he should learn the difference between the past and the present he said with a nod.
Tynon cleared his throat and turned to me " i have seen reports that you and braxes have finally solidified your host bond with one another, the council needs to meet him and bare witness to his power"
I tried to respond, but the words caught like a knot in my throat. "With all due respect, Grandfather," I finally managed to croak out, my voice barely above a whisper, "Brax is... uncouth and abrasive." The weight of my honesty hung heavily in the air, and I could see Tynon's expression remain unfazed, an unsettling reminder of his unwavering resolve. “He’s not exactly reverent of this holy council,” I added, my frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
Tynon shook his head slowly, dismissing my concerns as if I were a child trying to explain the logic of a tantrum. “It matters not,” he replied, his tone final. “It is the evidence of your bloodline, and this is the last step to bear witness to the Darksbane bloodline ability.”
My mind raced. The council’s gaze upon me and what they expected to witness loomed like a dark cloud, ad now the essence of who I’d bonded with sent waves of anxiety crashing over me. The council, with their pristine black robes and solemn faces, embodied something fearsome. And yet, here Tynon stood, insisting that I present Abraxes as if he were a well-mannered envoy, ready to ingratiate himself with this ancient institution.
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“Might I suggest,” I ventured tentatively, “that we could find a way to prove my bond without involving Brax directly? Perhaps a demonstration of our abilities?” I could feel Tynon’s scrutinizing gaze, seeing right past my carefully crafted facade of calm. The council desired proof, and while my connection with Abraxes was genuine, the unpredictability of his nature posed a risk I didn’t want to bear.
But Tynon merely tilted his head, a flicker of disappointment in his gaze. “You must understand, Kaleigh, that we need their acknowledgment of your bond. They won’t accept anything less than the truth of it. The council expects transparency, they must meet him as you are now a part of a symbiotic partnership it is not just you anymore" 6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7lOyPXSqtV
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