Hekate’s Bride

Master Kaelan has a couple of Star Students demonstrate what we ought to have learned by the end of this session before the hall. Picking weapons begin in the second year. By then, I’ll be gone from here.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

It doesn’t stop me from watching in pure fascination as Darian and Raven go at each other, swiping and slashing. They move like the wind and I have never seen anything like it in my entire life.

Raven dodges Darian’s powerful blow with such ease that it seems like she is dancing. Darian follows up with barrages of kicks and blows that are easily deflected– from what I can see, because their movements are too fast fast to follow and it’s like watching a blur of motion.

They seem to move in perfect synchronization, each move countering the other in a never-ending dance. Their feet barely touch the ground as they glide around each other, exchanging blows that seem to come from nowhere.

Not even the best sentinels in Wolvendom move like that.

They don’t even break a sweat! How does one accomplish this in a year?!

There is a sudden weight on my back. A slight pressure. I am being watched. I turn around and find Rune’s eyes on me. He is seated at the back, talking to a blonde lycan who is equally a star student.

But his eyes are on me and he doesn’t look away.

I don’t either.

His lips tug up in a smile that makes my skin crawl and feel hot at the same time.

I give him the middle finger before turning back to watch the demonstration.

Several minutes later, I am running meaningless laps around the hall, sticking to the walls like we all have been instructed to. ‘We’ being those with the golden uniforms. Only the lot of us are here with our allocated Star Student, Rune. The rest have been directed to other training halls. For some reason, Rune is given a sort of deference that the rest aren’t. Hierarchical levels don’t matter in here my ass. Why exactly had I not picked white? Or even black?

I am in extremely good shape — as much as a werewolf can be, but I am still the last in the line.

The rest are far ahead, running with a speed I can’t dream of matching up to.

“Too slow!” Rune barks to the first person running the laps. My jaw goes slack and I pant, hard. Too slow?! What then would I be referred to as?

I find out soon when I finally reach the start line. Rune’s frown only deepens and he regards me with disdain. “You move like a fucking worm, Blackwood.”

I stifle the urge to bare my teeth at him and tell him to fuck off. Master Kaelan is off to the side, watching us. The entire hall is watching us. I must be of good behaviour.

So I ignore him and join the line again. I feel his eyes on me long after, but I keep my gaze on my boots. He’s probably thinking up new ways to make my life a living hell. I won’t let him.

Fighting him will only fuel his need to hurt me more. He gets off of it.

And so, I stay quiet, ignoring him

We take more laps, all of which I come in last. My body isn’t built for this. I could easily be as weak as a human in this place.

“Again!” He barks, and the command rattles me all the way to my bones, propelling me forward.

An hour later, I am on my ass, panting hard. My vision blurs and my head pounds. I can’t seem to get enough air. I am soaked in sweat and… I don’t think I can continue this. I might just die at this rate.

“Get up, Blackwood!” Rune yells, approaching me, and even the compulsion in his voice is nothing compared to the fatigue I feel.

My lay down on my back, covering my eyes with the back of my palm.

Rune’s boots hit the ground before me and I have all but two second before he hurls me up on my feet. “Would you like some time to rest? Perhaps some time scrubbing the walls of the Star Halls–”

A growl escapes my throat before I realize it. “You’re such an arse,” I rasp amidst gasps, but I am already struggling to my feet and taking the last lap to the drawn finish line.

I half stumble into it, knocking a couple of lycans over and they yell and cuss at me, pushing me off them like I am dirt.

“Gather around,” Rune says, but I don’t stand from where I am seated on the ground. It’s not like he can see me from the front.

“Your trainings only get tougher from here on out, so I’d advice you spent some time here, practicing amongst each other, helping each other grow. The Blood Moon draws nearer with every passing day. We cannot afford to be caught off guard when the Hekate’s army arrives at our doors. I am sorely displeased with what I have witnessed today.”

Fucker, is all I can think as he speaks. It’s so damn easy for him to say so when he isn’t the one standing in our shoes. My shoes. Bloody ass fucker. The princeling who has to do nothing but give orders. How cute.

“The first year provides mastery over your bodies. Combat isn’t merely about brute strength and force. Your bodies are weapons with edges to be honed into something sharp and lethal. You do not need a blade or a spear to decapitate the enemy if you become a blade with the sharpest edge…”

Even if I hate him, I find myself listening to him. There is something about Rune’s voice draws you in and forces you to listen. My father says the lycans can get you to do the things you do not wish to without you even realising it.

I wonder if he is doing that now.

“Today was but a warm up. Tomorrow, we will begin combat fully, and I urge you to do your best. You’re dismissed.”

I groan, lifting myself off the ground and stand on shaky legs. I’m hungry, but it is not yet time for lunch, and I doubt I will be able to make it to the cafeteria in this state.

I head to my room instead and for once, everyone is too engrossed in their business to notice me limp past them.

I stagger into my room and head to the shower after taking great pains to peel off my clothes.

But there is no water in my bathroom.

I am so frustrated that I wrap my towel around my dirty sweaty body, get in my bed and cry myself to sleep.

*******

Someone called out his name. It had roused him from deep sleep and he slipped out of his room, headed towards the doors that were a prohibited exit.

He could not stop himself from moving, caught in a blissful trance. The world was a blur of colours and sounds that faded in and out of focus, like a distant dream.

His thoughts were a jumble of emotions and memories, swirling together in mist of confusion and the more he tried to sort through them, the more they slipped through his fingers, like smoke.

He could not remember who he was, where he was.

All he knew was the voice that beckoned to him, calling his outside the walls of the school.

And so he walked forward, finding the double doors already open for him.

He felt little of the grass under his barefoot or the dew on his skin. He felt little of the pain that shot through his foot as he trudged upon the broken glass that demarcated the school from the void beyond.

“Alaric…” the voice drawled, and for a moment, he remembered his name. Alaric. His name was Alaric.

And he was a prince.

He came to slowly, looking around him with fear. The school was far behind now and before him, there was only darkness and in the chasm, twin pools of the deepest, rarest green, peered down at him. The shade of green that was carried only by the royal blood line.

He had seen those eyes before.

But before he could speak, he fell.