MID-noon had ticked by as quickly as before anyone could pay attention to the clock striking twelve. Yet for those who had slept through the entire stretch of the morning, a good night, uninterrupted sleep was never enough to call it a well-spent rest in a brief weekend.
"Haugh!" The sleep-ridden Nyrhaean yawned, brain still in the process of rousing every lobe in his stubborn skull like the dawdling spur of a shabby computer.
That idiot was at it again. It had become a custom for the redhead to force his roommates out of bed far earlier with his crackling snores that had become their makeshift alarm with a broken snooze. Like sleeping in a critter's den alongside a Bearhog, which explains one of the bynames he was attributed to. The brunette was already on his desktop, headphones on with his game of Labyrinths and Conquests. Zakuro, on the other hand, was in need of more dire sleep.
The morning weather was less encouraging. The sky was buried behind an ocean of endless stratus clouds, hindering the citizens from tasting the glee of the solar beacon this summer of the month Nueb. Zakuro was, on the flip side, grateful. Even with a few of the sun's touch penetrating through the clouds, it merely felt more like a tickle.
Among the effects of the spell permitted his skin a half-pint pass from the Sun's searing touch, compensating him with the consoling burrow of sleep stolen from him long, long ago.
Peaceful. Free. Relieving. Even those dreamless nights offered utopia.
This remarkable part of the school's west wing had another distinguished set of hallway floors fabricated with cream marbles reflecting the rippling physique of Zakuro as he walked, as always in an ill-suited manner of arching his back and his hands concealed in his pockets. Winks of subtle lights flashed from the railings on his left. The ivory balustrade framed into a series of twirls and curves with streaks of antique gold and copper already gave Zakuro the satisfaction of going about the day like a child's play with a touch of a neat environment appealing to the eyes.
From his right spanned the blocks of classrooms divided into areas that were no less spacious than a backyard. The bronze-dyed curtains shrouded the interiors through the glass screens, cyan walls were in uniform wherein white and curving outlines of rocks were apparent across their surfaces.
Throughout the advancing years that technology had grown in unstoppable progress, along with the pressing need for a more desirable approach to educating children on the vast nature and cautious execution of magic, the environmental aspect of education had also manifested itself to be a proof of the ever-changing world. From the bygone custom of chairs arrayed in lines, the idea of modification into a layout of lengthy, arched chairs and tables rising into a spiral that left a circular space in its center for professors to administer their lessons gave teaching more fruitful resolves than expected without having to mind the amount of space taken and to observe the casting of magic in third dimension.
From chalkboards and papers to holograph screens, written to speech-to-text mediums, and most importantly, among the greatest inventions humankind has ever conceived was the Enchant Nullifier or ENF. As its name suggests, this evolutionary material lays out a counterforce field to obstruct enchantment influences. In this way, it would be simpler to control students who would dare overstep regulations when it comes to unwarranted spell throwings on the school grounds.
Zakuro passed by classrooms of considerable sizes behind closed access, turning corners here and there until he came across a particular room having that of two towering doors founded on elm woods reaching three feet away from the ceiling, and a name plaque established on brass written Mahika Capital Library. A grand entrance identical to a castle chamber.
Despite its sturdiness, the door was quite light enough for a dog to walk through effortlessly. Once inside, Zakuro was splashed with the cold-warm breeze and the vanilla scent of books, met with the eye-striking glamour of golden brilliance bestowed by the library's aureate tone. Wall-mounted lights and suspended chandeliers with one hanging above the spacious main hallway stood out in size, an imposing glass glazed in purple and coral.
Following the radiance to first catch one's eye upon entering was the maze-like dozen of stairs. Those close by the bookshelves installed within the wall projected out narrow terraces should one find ladders inconvenient, linking with the steps spiraling up to the highest floor of the library. Meanwhile, stairs per level would stop at a platform midway extending outwards as a mini balcony for those who would allow a thorough glimpse of the place, before providing another set of stairs in the opposite direction giving onto the next floor.
Layered window panels touched the ceiling, fabricated in damask decors lined across the walls as they looked over the top head of shelves. The two cone speakers above the doors seemed to have been polished early this morning.
When gazing toward the farthest side up ahead, the lengthy desk of the Chief Librarian could be seen at a good distance of about ten meters. Yet, it was what loomed further beyond that left an impression as if they were but an insignificant ant facing a mountain. The Archives. Heavily guarded by none other than the lady at the front. Should someone brave through even with the most soundless of movements to get a glance of the other side, they would have to woefully learn the old woman has more up her sleeves under that age-withered surveillance. And Mrs. Emberlaine made sure it would be a grave mistake for anyone to think otherwise.
Zakuro swept by the flanks of dark wood bookshelves. If not the dorms, where else could there only be a refuge of pure silence barring any mouthy crackheads from stepping afoot?
A few more shelves to round, then a muffled sound broke out, catching the Nyrhaean's attention like a cat erecting its ears. It sounded like coming from his supposed lounging spot. His amble turned into a prowl. The sound turned out to be from vocal sources. Zakuro maneuvered a peek from behind one of the corners of the Pre-Ethenos bookshelf, the shadows consumed him as their own.
Behind one of the couches, he could make out a file of a few--probably three--girls a year older than his instilled class. Zakuro still finds it offbeat, in the most non-scathing term, the status quo of fashion trends of modern humans. Their clothes were as arresting as their thick makeup as if imitating leper trolls. If it were not for the compact space, their small gathering would have already been ousted. A person among them did not belong, as told from her plain skirt and shirt.
Humans do have such a habit of stirring up trouble first thing in the morning. Zakuro sighed, either out of the drowsiness left over or of the displeasure for his stolen sleeping den.
"But the magic-casting assessment part. I can't just scribble down random answers. It's impossible. For me!"
The familiar voice stopped from turning to leave. Touring his eyes deeper, he could make out an outline of a pink flower on the girl's ash hair.
His assumption was correct.
"I'm sorry, Brenevieve, but this is out of my hands."
"Then do something about it. You read spellbooks and grimoires." The girl on the left spat, pinning a finger against the forehead of the smaller figure. "Like you said, it's not like you're ever even going to need it, might as well finally put that knowledge to good use."
Cazzie's friends, perhaps? Yet there was an oddity in it, other than not knowing she was acquainted with these sorts of girls.
His bat-like senses were tailored to befit in survival, but for gossip? Might as well revel for a bit of entertaining drama. So what if he could draw out answers from students whispering out answers? It was not like he could help it.
Cazzie was about to object to her assertion, only to give off an empty breath. Brenevieve, from what Zakuro decoded, spoke, voice affectionate but delivery brash, "Why not? Got too much dirt in your hands?"
"No, Brie," said the tanned one, holding a pile of books and papers, "she always had them dirty from those boys she leeches herself to." A chain of mingled chuckles followed, each stressed with the undeniable trace of scorn under high-pitch laughs. Cazzie reciprocated with a forged chuckle.
Brenevieve placed a consoling--almost suppressing--hand on her shoulder. "Don't mind them, sweetheart. It's how they go about it. You'll get used to it once you'll hang with us. You're not far off from getting invited to one of our parties."
The latter's demeanor changed to an innocent enthusiasm. "Really?!"
Brenevieve nodded, grinning. "Although, we can't work out our schedules considering we have to make the arrangements while prioritizing our homework, can we?"
Cazzie considered the thought for a moment, then elated like a squirrel rejoicing after finding a nut. "Okay. I'll do it then!"
"So generous of you, Amaerys. We're sorry for putting so much on your shoulders again."
Cazzie still cannot help but smile, receiving the muddled documents. It proved to be heavier than she thought. "It's fine with me. As long as I get to be of assistance. I do this to my other friends all the time too, so it's not much of a bother."
Zakuro did not deny it, and he was proof of it. The other guys were no less guilty. Although she would insist as it was her way to express gratitude for their unasked protection, they would give in, especially when it involved composing long-arse essays.
Nevertheless, it was like watching a wee lamb mingling with foxes. The naivety of the weak left a rusty distaste in his mouth. For him, it was either the sheep or the wolf who would survive.
"Amaerys." A voice--another well-known figure--came from the opposite end, carrying with it an aggravated purpose. "I knew I was right to find you here."
Cazzie hitched a faint smile. "Hey, Rye."
Ryeld's gaze slowly slips from one girl to another. A grave air floated in between.
"Seems like our little problem here is settled," Brenevieve said, side-eyeing Ryeld's glower. "Let's go, girls. We wouldn't want to miss our appointment in the spa." The girls departed, the echoes of their heels clanking against the tiled floor.
Ryeld redrew his gaze back at Cazzie, who nerved under its weight to return a gesture. The former blew off a heavy sigh, one hand slapped on his forehead while the other rested on his hips, further pressing agitation upon the girl.
"How long are you going to do this?"
"Do what?" Cazzie retorted with a muffled tone, mustering the courage to look up.
"You know what I mean." Ryeld's hardened demeanor dissolved into a soft mien. "You always put yourself under the heels of others. Not only that, you're risking your safety doing these stupid favors for what? A group of girls who keep delaying their promises to invite you to their club? You're just making a doormat of yourself, Cazzie."
Cazzie remained frozen on the spot, eyes deliberately falling to his side. "It's ... complicated."
"You don't get to say that. You just won't admit it."
Zakuro, meanwhile, was still moping over their small exchange.
"I just want to belong with a group where, for once, I don't get to be told it's not my place. If I can't find someone out there like me, magic-less and covered in these stupid fissures, at least I'll be in a band where my natural division sees me fit." Cazzie gave a faint huff, allowing slow defeat to consume her as she traced the shallow crack lines along her left wrist where her foundation failed to conceal properly, following her veins' paths. "I'm not saying I'm tired of hanging out with you, guys, but I can't keep on turning a deaf ear to what everyone is saying until the end of high school."
"Caz..."
"I'm not a slut. And I want to prove it to their faces."
"No, you're not." He began, emerald eyes melting. "I can see your point, but you can't keep on doing this. You're already unsafe as it is. In this school, you're just putting yourself in further danger. You know these girls don't take consequences lightly." He waited for her response, but her silence said it all. "Remember the incident with one of the Acid-wielding seniors? It was a two-degree burn."
"Yeah," she mumbled, tracing her eyes to the patch of skin on her forearm that once retained a blistering scar, calling for a whole two-week aid before its full recovery. Cazzie felt a warm clasp on her shoulder, emboldening her to bring herself to return eye contact.
"All because you got burned out and forgot to do that mongrel's paperwork."
Cazzie wondered if that event haunted Ryeld more than herself.
"We can't always protect you, so don't let others trample you over. Know what act is stupid and not."
The girl gaped at him, but not without emotion. She was smiling weakly. "Always the softie around me, aren't you?" Her beam grew wider into a puckish curve.
"Hmph." The apples of his cheeks illuminated a tinge of red, redirecting his gaze away, lip twisting back to its usual scowl.
Ryeld was an amusing individual, Zakuro thought. Stubborn as a rock, but brittle within.
"Don't get used to it. It's just what any good friend would have done."
"You always say that." Cazzie smirked. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
Ryeld stuck to his annoyed expression, hiding a glint of smile fighting to surface from his taut jaw.
HUMMM!
The incessant blast of a wailing screech burst from the megaphone all over the room, almost cutting through glass. Hearts jumped at the sudden outcry of the cursed loudhailer. Cazzie, Ryeld, and Zakuro were just as startled, eyes blinking toward the speakers.
"All students, staff, and welcomed acquaintances, we hereby encourage you to remain calm and stand on guard. This is not a drill. A breach in our perimeter has caused an outbreak of unidentifiable creatures within our grounds. I repeat. A breach in our perimeter has caused an outbreak of unidentifiable creatures within our grounds. All rooms and premises will be initiated under lockdown."
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NEXT on Youngblood World:
A threat has entered Mahika... But what exactly?
Find out in the next chapter,
Fight Or Flight
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