Luke had heard of a sleeping draught that could send you to a dreamless, coma-like sleeping state.
He would pay anything for it.
His dreams when he slept, to put it simply, sucked.
Luke ran his finger through his hair, yawning. Every night, for some reason, he had weird dreams. They seemed to be flashbacks of the past, but other people’s pasts. They were horrible.
He sat with his friends as usual at the canteen that morning. Tsalor gnawed her raw meat under the table. They hadn’t missed out on the fact that he was even more tired than usual, Renee especially, but he dismissed the questions. The dreams are too weird.
He picked at his food while everyone talked. He was absolutely disappointed when he heard the try outs were cancelled. Stupid Council project. Jynhue felt the same; they irritated everybody with their complaining.
“Will you stop it?!” Renee exploded one day. “It’s not the end of the world!”
“The way you harp on it is making me lose my appetite,” Velias seconded.
“It’s not a big deal,” Zeke muttered. “You can wait for next year.”
Even Farionze grunted in agreement. She actually flicked her food them.
“What classes today?” Luke asked.
Renee flipped a braid back before tapping her armband. “For us, History.”
“I don’t know how anyone tolerates History,” Velias remarked. “I can already predict what the professor is going to say.”
Velias then slouched, scowling, imitating the History professor’s expression and voice. “Today, we’re going to learn about the First Multi-Realm War. In that war, many important people died. There was lots of stabbings, with blood everywhere. Lord So-and-so died, along with his seventeen children.”
Everyone laughed. “He doesn’t say anything like that!” Renee protested half-heartedly.
“He does say things somewhat like that,” Jynhue corrected.
“I agree with Milady,” Luke said. Farionze nodded.
“My old history teacher always made these weird jokes no one understood,” Zeke mused.
The bell rang at that moment, breaking up the conversation. Dumping their trays, they said their goodbyes and headed out of the canteen, Zeke and Farionze having different classes.
Luke walked down the hallway, which was now familiar to him. Jynhue drifted in front, having a one-sided exchange with Farionze. Velias rummaged through his bag, his footsteps heavier than everyone else’s.
He was struck by how few older kids were walking in the halls. It was mostly dominated by the first and second years; only one or two older than that wandered around anymore.
Since the assembly, the gossip had died down a little. But now everyone seemed riled up about the ‘malady’, paranoid precautions being made. He heard the Hon’Vallin siblings were stuck with kitchen duty for spreading rumours. Just as well.
But maybe….
Just maybe…
The reason not much older kids were round was in in his dreams…
Velias opened their classroom door. All of them walked in, taking their places. Nearly everyone was there, talking. One empty desk was empty.
The door flung open, banging the wall with a muted clang. “I’m not late!” Julian announced, rubbing his hands together and stomping to his seat.
Luke was the only one watching what went on next. Am I glad I saw that. Kesmarane had turned back to her book, pointedly not looking at Julian, who grinned and sidled up to her.
“I win the bet,” He stage-whispered. “You owe me.”
Grudgingly, Kesmarane sipped her hand into her pocket and dug out some coins, dropping them into his upturned palm.
“I told you I would win!” He crowed.
Kesmarane, not looking at him, socked him in the stomach. In a fit of groans and snickering, he returned to his seat.
Luke wished he had recorded that. Julian teasing Kesmarane mercilessly had been a highlight of the class that whole week. How I’d like to record that and replay.
Professor Zemirae then walked into the classroom and everyone hastily quieted and faced in front. Professor Zemirae wasn’t as strict as Professor Pirelou, but he knew exactly what punishment you would loathe most.
Luke easily towered over him (to be fair, I towered over everybody, but professor Zemirae took the cake), a fact that made him slightly uncomfortable. A Skilamu pure-blood, his skin was darker than the blackest onyx, with alabaster white hair and four teardrop-shaped eyes. His illusionist stone, a red ruby in the middle of his forehead, was missing. His attire always changed each day – the girls liked to guess what it would be. He also called everyone by their surnames, accompanied by ‘seljoar’.
“Today we’ll be-” He stopped as he suddenly looked confused. “Our class will postponed for today as-” He paused as if trying to remember. “All of you had failed the last test, so it looks like the last lesson has to be reviewed.”
Exclamtions erupted from the whole class. Several leapt up from their seats. Hiljo burnt the notebook he was holding. “Sir, I studied all night for the test!” Luke yelled along in disbelief.
Professor Zemirae waved his hand crossly. “Most of you failed the test. Or at least did not get sufficient marks to pass.”
“I’m deeply disappointed. I expected better from all of you, yes, even Seljoar Pirelou. Only three of you passed the test: Kesmarane Latrione, Alistair Low, Lihayne Ivloke and Farionze Fienne,” He informed them. “Jynhue Han’Kront, Lucas Criollo, you two are one mark away from passing.”
Luke cupped his hands to his mouth to shout, determined to pass the test. “Professor, one mark! Since we’re so close, can’t you just add bonus points or round it up? One mark away isn’t a lot!”
“Well, I suppose you pass then,” Professor Zemriae sighed.
Luke grinned, but realized they would still be doing the last lesson. I can’t take another word on the First Multi-Realm War.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After two more lessons, lunch came. Unfortunately, Zeke had been dragged away by his sisters, along with Velias and Renee having to stay back to see Professor Zemirae about their failed grades. Neither could Farionze stay – she was called away by Professor Pirelou, who wanted to talk to her about finding ways to communicate. Which left Luke and Jynhue.
“Doesn’t seem the same without the others,” He grumbled.
“Especially when you’re bad company,” She added moodily.
“Excuse me?”
She made an impatient ‘pfft’ noise, implying she didn’t want to have this conversation. He gave up – there was no arguing with Jynhue when she was in a bad mood.
“Let’s restart the conversation,” he offered.
“Fair enough.”
“How many boys’ heads did you turn today?” He asked in a sing-song way.
“How many girls fell over themselves for you today?” She threw back.
“Two, I think. Someone from third-year actually came to me thinking I was a fourth-year because of my height,” he joked.
“If you grow any taller you’re going to hit the light fixtures,” She replied dryly.
“I’m already hitting the tree branches,” he returned.
“You’re right,” She said. Jynhue reached over a ghostly hand and pulled out some leaves from his hair.
“What’s the next class?” He asked, edging away.
“Tech, you’re favourite,” She grinned, throwing the leaves at him.
Great. Tech was sure to take things off his mind – take his mind away from insisting on replaying the dreams. He hoped the project he was working on was enough to make him have a dreamless night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He dozed off, which was bad.
But, frankly, who could blame him? Mythology was a boring subject.
Tech class had passed way too quickly.
He wished he could be back at his table, assembling metal pieces to form his masterpiece, instead of looking at musty scrolls. He wished he was sparking electricity into his invention, instead of waiting for his brain to come up with ideas. He wished he was fixing a syncopator, instead of scribbling lines then crossing them out.
He’d been sitting at the library table, trying to figure out how to start his essay, when his eyelids started dropping. Lethargy washed over him and he slumped forward, asleep.
Of course, that meant dreams.
Each time, the setting was different. Today, it was one of the dorm tower’s common room. Several older students – maybe fourth or fifth years – were laughing and lounging around.
In the middle of the room was a Faergo girl doing an imitation of a lecturing professor. She was very pretty, with chocolaty curls and large eyes. Russet feathers were on her arms and wings.
Drunkenly laughing along with her friends, she didn’t notice the textbook on the floor and tripped. A boy rushed towards her and caught her before she fell. “Silena, watch where you’re going,” He chided.
Silena straightened up, sitting on the floor. “You worry about me too much!”
“If I didn’t, who will?” He retorted.
She giggled and playfully shoved him. “You overthink, Scylan.”
“And you think too little,” He said, mouth twitching.
“Oh, for Realm’s sake,” A girl sitting on the couch groaned. “Enough with the mushy stuff!”
“Yeah,” Another seconded. “We’ve seen you guys at it for-ever!”
Scylan blushed, returning to his seat. Silena stood up, giggling, but something was off. Her giggles were getting louder. Taking on a maniacal and hysterical edge. She was trembling all over too. Her eyes flashed.
“Forever is a strong word,” She tittered, but her voice no longer sounded like her own. It was harsh and grating, like scraping knives. Her expression had twisted itself into a horrible leer, her eyes changing from sky-blue to void-black. “Only the wronged live forever. You do not.”
Without warning and faster than thought, Silena lunged at her friends, snarling, covered by a red aura. Her two friends barely had time to register what was going on. When they did…
…too late. Their screams turned into howls of rage. The red aura spread to them and they launched themselves at everyone else at an impossible speed.
The room erupted into pure chaos as shrieking students desperately tried to run away from Silena and her friends. Unfortunately, they were faster than them. One touch was all it took, it seemed, to turn the rest crazy.
Finally, there was only one left. The only reason Scylan was still unaffected was because Silena was savouring his fear. She stood over him, who was back into a corner, her wings spread and growling.
Behind her, everyone screeched in unison. “You could never run from us.”
Silena lunged for the kill as Scylan cried out in terror.
“Luke, wake up.”
He jolted awake, gasping. Velias’s hand hovered above his shoulder. Luke peeled off the paper stuck to his cheek. “How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough for everyone to leave,” Velias shrugged. “Class’s over.”
Luke groaned and stretched. “Then why are you here?”
Velias spread his hands. “I noticed you weren’t in class, got permission to come back and check on you.”
“Ugh.” He grabbed his stationary and shoved them into his bag.
Velias went on talking. “It’s weird. You’d think Professor Pirelou would notice if any of her students were missing, since she’s so rule-obsessed.”
“Maybe she’s stressed about something. Distracted.” “Like you?” Velioas asked. “Luke, I don’t know what Tech project you’re working on, but if you’re working on it to the point you’re taking naps in class, you should quit it.”
“It has nothing to do with the project,” He said defensively.
Velias shook his head. “Criollo, don’t try to lie to me. I’ve known you longer than anyone in this place. You would never, ever fall asleep in class, no matter how boring. That’s not you at all.”
“Like I said, it has nothing to do with the project,” Luke insisted. Velias is right – I don’t fall asleep in class. I don’t have prophetic dreams either.
What is going on with me?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Hon’Vallin siblings, Calon and Cazire, honestly were blabber mouths.
Whatever promises they made to not tell, they somehow found a loophole and spread the word. Give them any tidbit of information, the whole school would know in a matter of hours, thanks to them.
“Don’t tell anyone,” the professors warned.
“No one is supposed to know yet,” they also warned.
But did the siblings listen? No.
They had somehow obtained information that wasn’t supposed to be spread around too. When caught, they were told not to tell. They found a way around that and announced it to the whole student body.
If Foliasou had his way, he’d tape their mouths shut.
Frankly, he didn’t understand why no professor had cuffed them yet.
He stalked along the hallway, absently spinning his staff like a baton. He was instructed to go find them and bring them to Professor Zemirae, who was looking grim. They were definitely going to be stuck with kitchen duty.
The hallway was empty, though behind the doors there were the usual buzz of noise of ongoing classes. If there were any truant students walking out now, they’d have the bad luck of meeting Foliasou – he would report them to his uncle at once. Though, he doubted he would have to do that. Here’s the classrooms they’re using to teach fighting; no student would miss out on the chance to play with weapons.
Occasionally, he heard the clanging and smashing of swords coming from swordsmanship classes. The hiss of arrows was audible, along with twanging. He heard thumping from a classroom; he guessed they were throwing axes.
He ran his hand along the smooth metal wall. The fourth corridor on the second floor was now a place of interest for everybody. Several braver (or stupider) students tried to sneak there, but Professor Pirelou had set a sonic trap – anyone caught in it would be suspended in mid-air.
It was for their own good that they didn’t go there.
The locks on the doors were there for a reason.
Suddenly, he heard running footsteps. He barely had time to register a dark shape before something slammed into him, hard. Both of them collapsed onto the floor, papers flying round.
“Wekeren’s crown! I. Am. So sorry!”
He knew that high laughing voice. Taryon had fallen on top of him, staring with the look of utmost horror. She scrambled back to her feet, randomly snatching at her papers, repeatedly apologising. He just groaned.
His head was sore, but he couldn’t stay mad at her. He grabbed his staff and helped her to collect the rest of the papers.
Taryon hugged the papers to her chest. “Sorry, and thanks.”
“Just watch where you’re going next time,” he grumbled.
She perked up. “Foliasou?”
He frowned, flicking of dust from his sleeve. “Are you not wearing your device?”
He knew Taryon was blind. She had an earpiece-like device that ‘sees’ for her, then transmits whatever image it captured into her brain. Or so she said. Had she taken it off?
“It’s broken,” She explained, tucking a lock of blue hair behind her pointed ear.
“Shouldn’t be running then,” he chided.
She stuck out her tongue at him. “I know the school like the back of my hand.”
Taryon was so endearingly annoying. He liked her, since she was the only one who didn’t treat him coldly or called him ‘Golden Boy’. She was the only one who was nice to him. Unlike everyone else.
“As you won’t take care of yourself, running around blind when you know you could hit something, I’m going to walk you to wherever you’re going.”
“Nice of you, but you don’t have to,” She insisted, smoothing the folds of her dress. “You probably need to do something important, right?”
“That can wait,” he decided. “If I don’t, next time I see you it would be in the Hospital Wing, you stubborn fool.”
“Alright,” She conceded. “But that’s what you like about me.”
“Irutinb,” he muttered. Out loud, he said, “Where were you going?”
“Professor Enigerep’s class,” was the answer.
He took her hand and began to lead her to her destination. She was smiling, but trying to hide it. It made his ears burn for some reason.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” She said nonchalantly. “What is actually at the fourth corridor?”
“Council project.”
“I may be blind, but I’m not stupid. Come on, you can trust me, Foliasou,” She coaxed persuasively.
He ignored her and she had the sense to drop the subject. He scowled at her, to let her know he wasn’t letting her know. There are rules. She gave him an innocent look in return, smiling coyly.
“What do you think of this year’s first-years?” Taryon asked.
“A little whiny,” He admitted. “Especially Professor-”
“-Pirelou’s son, I know. The others?”
“Varris Nemarc, you know him? He takes after the Hon’Vallin siblings, and so does that Badie Zortalac. You never know when they’re eavesdropping.”
Taryon laughed. “Okay, Master Pessimism.”
“I could just drop your hand right now and let you wander around,” He threatened. He released his hold, just a little.
She grasped on tighter. “Fine, you win. Continue talking.”
“I met Azaria and Azumia’s stepsister yesterday. She’s okay, if I hadn’t caught her trying to go to the corridor with a couple of her friends,” he said candidly. “Just like you.”
“Is that what you think of me?” She made a ‘hmph’ sound.
“I’m going to ignore that,” he replied. “There’re these two troublemakers that haven’t caused so much havoc since two years ago. The Brix brothers, I think. They’ve been climbing everywhere to stick or drop things from.”
“Just like you,” Taryon echoed. “Relations of yours?”
He pinched her lightly. “I’m going to stop talking now. Any visions lately?”
Taryon’s playful grin faded away. “I’m not supposed to tell.”
Taryon was a Hlundran, a seer. She rarely saw the future though. Neither did she like to talk about her gift, as it was because of that she and her father ended up in Exterion. Still, I want to know about it.
“I’ll tell you something if you tell me,” he offered, stopping.
“Like, what is at the fourth corridor?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Maybe.”
“I guess – okay then,” She said uncertainly. Her eyes flashed. Her voice altered. Wisps of magical trails darted around.
Foliasou began to wonder if he should not have asked.
“Encountered by the enemy none can defeat,
Six shall survive the terror of wronged past.
They must face the guardian creatures of deceit,
In the lands of sea and frost ever last.”
Taryon changed back to normal. They both stood in silence in the middle of the hallway. He cleared his throat.
“Professor Enigerep’s class is right here,” He said. “See you later?”
That shook her out of her daze. “No way! First, you’re not going to tell anyone about that, are you? I’m not supposed to tell.”
“No, I won’t,” Foliasou assured. “I promise.”
“Good. Second, you haven’t told me what’s at the fourth corridor!”
Foliasou was suddenly grateful Taryon was blind, because he didn’t want her to see his sly grin. “Well, I never actually said I would tell you what was there…”
She stood up straighter, gasping audibly. “You irutinb! You tricked me!”
“But I will tell you something, since I promised that,” he went on as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Professor Donovan is coming back soon.”
She scowled and smacked him on the shoulder. “I knew that.”
He shrugged mischievously, leaning against the wall.
Taryon hit him again with her papers before opening the door. Stepping inside, she mouthed, I’ll get you for that later.
“I’ll be waiting then,” he responded.