Huff— huff— huff—
In the dark, rain-slick forest, a small figure ran through the undergrowth.
His breath tore at his lungs, each gasp louder than the pounding in his ears. A root snagged his foot and sent him stumbling, mud splashing up his legs, but he scrambled upright and kept running.
The ground sucked at his bare feet while wet leaves slapped his cheeks. He glanced over his shoulder.
—!
They were still there.
The boy, no more than five years old, pointed his left hand back. A small metal rod formed in his grip, and with a sharp twist of his wrist, it shot forward, whistling into the shadows where the unseen hunters moved.
Blood streamed from his nose.
The side-effect.
His chest heaved, a sharp sting burning in his sternum, the familiar agony when his core ran dry of mana and aether.
His hand dove into his pocket, clutching the warm gold pieces. His thoughts raced.
'If I throw them back... they'll let me go, right?'
Ruumble—
His stomach growled, hollow and aching. He needed food. Anything to survive.
Through the trees, he spotted a river. Its dark water surged downhill, raging from the night's rain.
A chance
He braces himself for the icy plunge—
"AAAAGH!"
THUD—!
The world spun. His body hurled forward, pain lancing through his legs as the wet warmth of blood trickled down. He skidded to a halt in the mud, gasping.
"There you are, you little shit!"
A man emerges from the darkness—ragged clothes hanging from a wiry frame, face drawn and filthy, eyes glinting with malice.
"You thought you could steal from us? All you had to do was bring us the girl, and you'd have been paid more than enough. But no… you let her escape."
His voice was raw with fury, each word heavy with threat.
"GAH—!"
The boy's feet left the ground as the man's rough hand clamped around his throat.
The man snarled.
"If you're ready to steal from people, then you'd better be ready to spill blood, and face the consequences when you get caught."
A grin crosses his face, revealing crooked, yellowed teeth.
"I bet you'd fetch a fine price. Five years old, and already able to use Aether like that… those blood-red eyes, just like the royal family's."
He licked his cracked lips.
"Yes... some freak would pay handsomely for you. Maybe that—
"GUUUH!"
A sharp kick to the balls, followed by a glancing strike from a thin metal rod, gave the boy his chance.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU!"
The man's roar shook the dark forest as the boy limped away, his left leg burning and bleeding from an arrow wound. His vision blurred from the overuse of his core, each step like treading through a rough, water-filled swamp.
Panic twisted his young face as he saw the man gaining on him. He tries to force mana and aether from the air into his core, only to cough up more blood.
The river is barely ten feet away. Escape.
He stumbled. His frail little body buckled.
"AAAAH!"
Pain exploded as the man's boot crushed his leg.
"NO! NO, PLEASE! LET ME LIVE! I'M SORRY!"
The man growled, then let out a ragged laugh. "Oh, you'll live… as the local baron's little pet."
He slung the boy over his shoulder.
STAB—!
"AAAAGHHH MOTHER FUCKER!"
The boy drove a stick into the man's back, yanking it out and plunging it again and again into the same wound.
"AAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
The man hurled him to the ground, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Wheezing, the boy watched as the man clawed at his back, unable to reach the stick.
Scrambling forward, the boy seized a small rock. His grip tightened, shaky eyes locked onto the slaver.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"
With a war cry, he charged, leaping and smashing the rock into the man's face.
SQUELCH—
Bone crumpled. The man's eyes rolled back as he fell onto his back, right onto the embedded stick.
SQUELCH—
It drove deeper, punching through his trachea. A wet, choking gasp tore from his throat as his mouth erupted in a fountain of blood.
Dropping the rock into the mud, the boy's body trembled uncontrollably.The man's ragged gasps grew faint, each one bubbling through the blood spilling from his mouth. Those dying moments, the twitch of his fingers, the glaze settling over his eyes, burned themselves into the boy's mind.
He staggered backwards, never looking away from the face that would haunt him. His teeth chattered, not from cold, but from the shudder running through his soul.
With an effort that felt like tearing himself apart, he turned away. Step by step, he followed the raging river's edge, the roar of the water drowning the pounding in his head.
******
-??? POV-
Click— click— click—
The measured tap of heels on polished marble carried through the candlelit hall. Outside, the rain poured, its steady drumming against tall windows weaving into the quiet rhythm of her steps.
A lone figure advanced, papers tucked neatly in her arm. Her long, dark hair was gathered into a precise bun, a few loose strands catching the flicker of candlelight. The formal cut of her teacher's dress hugged her frame with dignified poise, yet her emerald eyes, calm, watchful, powerful, missed nothing as they swept the corridors.
She sighed as she reached the far door—the dean's office.
Just remember what grandma said: "This is your one chance to rise in the teaching world. Don't mess it up."Hah, grandma... you know I can't stand these shady folks who wield so much power over children.
I raised my hand to knoc—
"Come in." A stern, commanding voice echoed from inside.
Exhaling, I grasped the handle and stepped in, closing the door softly behind me.
The office was modest, something I didn't expect. The last place I worked was a pompous noble's gilded palace, dripping with gold and excess. But here? Elegant, yes, but simple. Everything was neatly arranged, clean, and purposeful. The only flourish was a sleek mahogany desk commanding the center of the room.
Behind it sat an imposing man—late thirties, sleek short brown hair, and piercing amber eyes that seemed to peel you apart, dissecting every nuance, reading right through you.
I bowed instinctively. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Dean Raynold."
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Veythorne. Please sit. And no need for formalities, you're a duke's daughter while I'm a measly marquess."
I settled into the leather chair across from him, setting my papers on the table. "Family names shouldn't hold weight at a learned institute, lest they breed favouritism and grant unfair advantages to those from higher houses."
The dean let out a small smile. "I like the way you think, Miss Elara, or should I say Professor Elara?"
I frowned. "Are you implying I've already secured the position?"
"But of course. Shouldn't a sharp woman like you have figured it out? Bringing all your things from the Crown City of Veylithral to Eldaren?"
I bit the inside of my cheek, slightly embarrassed. "Right, I should have realized that"
The dean chuckled. "How about we go over the specifics? We've prepared a room for you on campus. Tomorrow, you'll have a chance to tour the facilities. The young children of the Golden Era will be arriving next week."
"The Golden Era? Is that what they're calling them now? Isn't it a bit unfair to put such a burden on those children already?" I voiced my concern for their well-being.
He leaned back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Well, that's what happens when the sole remaining Crown Princess, the Archduke's son and daughter, and many other notable names all start attending the academies at once. The people need hope—especially now, with war looming between kingdoms and the threat of demons from the Hollow Depths growing stronger every day."
My expression hardened at the mention of the demon threat before shifting to confusion. "War between kingdoms? Doesn't the Abyssal Concord state that any and all threats of war will be met with severe repercussions from all signed parties?"
The dean reached over to the ashtray, plucked a cigar, and took a slow puff. "The Abyssal Concord is set to expire in a few years. But tensions have been rising ever since the Crown Prince's abduction three years ago, and last year's announcement of his death. The Royal family is paranoid, convinced it was an attack by one of the neighboring kingdoms. Rumors say the Aureth Dominion seized the chance to sow chaos among the newly ascended King and Queen. Naturally, the Dominion denies any involvement, but the tension's been thick ever since."
My face tightened briefly at the mention of the Royal family, but I quickly masked it with a frown. "Is all this being kept secret? How come I haven't heard a word? No offense, but how does a mere marquess know so much?"
He offered only a wry smile. "We all have our little secrets, don't we, Miss Elara?"
I nodded slowly, understanding more than I let on.
He leaned back in, hands clasped on the table. "How about we continue with the contract?"