The Last Guardian | Darkling Academy

chapter one | the mysterious app

'An endless void of nothing claws it's way through me. There's no emotion of any kind, just a hollow figure overflowing with darkness. Or maybe I'm darkness itself.'

That's the emotion I feel as let my finger tips delicately glaze over the bloody object before me.

I rip my slender hand away from the shoulder pad that's lying on the large metallic desk and stumble back until I feel the cool wall behind me.

What the hell? I barely even touched it. I usually have to be focused and completely touching an object with both my hands to feel such strong emotions.

I clench my fingers into a fist and gently push myself away from the wall. Eyeing the torn school logo on the object, I cautiously move towards my black leather gloves sitting beside it. Leisurely pulling them over my naturally tanned hands, I glance around the dimly lit room. My eyes roam over to the metal tables lined up in the middle of the vast space as the icy breeze coming in from the vent above brushes against the goosebumps layering my exposed skin.

Even in a morgue that's hardly been used, it's still as morbid and creepy as any other. An area only meant for death, I guess.

Swiftly, I pull the plastic bag over the shoulder pad, being careful not to touch it again. Even through my black, glossy gloves and plastic case I placing it back into, I can still sense its dark emotion radiating from the object.

Ever since I was six, I've had this strange ability to feel the emotions of the last person to touch an object with just a stroke of my hand. Yet, throughout all those years, I've never felt that specific feeling before. It was like I felt the emotion of darkness itself? If that can even be an emotion.

As my mind ponders over the question, I pick the bag up by the top of the bag and chuck it into the cardboard box beneath the desk, not wanting to have to be around it any longer.

Probably should have done that a lot more gently, especially since I'm not meant to be down here. If dad found me in this room, I'm certain he would ground me for the rest of the year...or maybe even longer, and I'm not really in the mood to find out which one it is.

In one swift motion, I pivot around on the back heel of my sneaker and stride towards the exit door, eager to leave the chemical invested aroma. My hand moves towards the door handle but the sound of someone opening the creaky white door on the other side stops me from moving any further.

The muscles throughout my body tense as panic tares its way up my constricting throat. The door swings open and my widened eyes fall upon a short teenage girl with wavy bright purple hair. A heavy sigh falls from my mouth as relief washes throughout my taut body.

"Bloody hell, Ronnie! You scared the living live out of me." I whisper-shout as I clutch a shaky hand to my chest.

She arches a perfectly plucked brow.

"Well, that would make sense, we are standing in a morgue after all."

I try to give her a deadpanned stare, but my lip ends up quirking up at her usual sarcasm. Moving past her, I turn my attention to both sides of me as I glance along the hallway, making sure no ones there. The fading lights down both hallways flicker slightly as my black sneakers squeak against the white lino floor.

"So, this is what I found in your dad's office. By the way, you should really tell him to redecorate in there, it's bleaker than this morgue is." Ronnie says.

I turn around and notice the case file rolled up in Ronnie's hand as she extends it out to me. Her deep honey brown eyes never drop down to it as she focuses solely on my face.