From my spot at the window, I watch the tree branches below tumble across the ground. The guards in their silver and grey armor patrol the grounds with swords strapped at the hip. Their strides fall in line with the other's, strong and certain, even with the wind trying to knock them down.
With a silent sigh, I turn back to the lesson at hand. Professor Mikel babbles on about the great Gods. For once, I pay attention, trying to connect anything to The Darkening. My eyes grow heavy from my late-night reading. Catching up on school lessons are not easy, especially with the school's new curfew and Clarika breathing down my neck.
When class is dismissed, I follow the flow of students and head to the cafeteria to grab a salad for lunch and sit by the window to eat. Black clouds swirl in the sky, like an artist drawing strokes in a painting. Students boom with laughter and gossip about the lockdown, some talk about writing to their home and getting no response.
Vakeya and the thousands of dead within the city come to mind. A hole burns inside my chest as my ears hone in on multiple students agreeing. So many people have lost their loved ones and they don't even know it.
To keep myself distracted, I watch Rima trying to struggle through Khalier's raging winds. Even Abraxis and Easton are having trouble keeping balance. Unlike in Belonia, the winds seem to be even worse on the Floating Islands. Trash cans fly across the road and trees lay sideways.
She notices me after a few seconds. "Well, hello. How did you get here?"
"I don't know," I say nonchalantly. "I just kinda appeared and went with it. What are you doing?"
A wall builds between us suddenly and I blink. "Nothing," she says.
I raise a brow through the bond, unable to keep myself from grinning. "You're not doing anything bad, are you?"
"No."
"Really? Because..." I poke the string between us like a persistent toddler. Rima huffs and nudges me back into my own mind but I creep back in with a taunting grin. I know my dragon and I know when she's doing something she's not supposed to.
"If you must know, human," she sighs dramatically, lowering her walls to let me sniff around like a dog on the hunt. "Easton and Abraxis and I are going to talk with some of the older dragons on Island Five."
I snort to myself, then glance around at the mages to see if anyone saw. No one did to my relief. "Did Easton forget humans are prohibited from going to the fifth Island?"
"I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, angling her wings forward and digging her talons into the grass of the exact island Easton will get himself killed on. Through my dragon's eyes, I watch as Easton grimaces and then turn to Rima with a sneering smile.
"Tell Norah that I'm a pureblood dragon rider," he says. "We have special privileges. This is one of them. And tell her to pay attention before she gets in trouble, again."
"He's not a very good pureblood if he doesn't know how our bond works," I tell Rima and she nods in agreement. As the three start their journey into the forest where dragons eye Easton with a sense of respect, I ask Rima why they're on the Island.
"Some of these dragons are thousands of years old," she begins, holding herself proudly as the other dragons back away from her with a bowed head. Her satisfaction creeps through until I swat it back. "One of them is bound to know something about The Darkening."
"You realize Holland said no, don't you? He said to train and 'hone our skills.'"
Rima huffs, tossing her head back that makes Easton glance at her with a knowing smirk. "So now you're a ruler follower, huh? Right when I want to do something. I see how it is, human."
"I'm not your human," I retort. "I'm my own human. An independent human with family problems."
"I'm not talking to you anymore. Tap on the bond when you're ready to accept yourself as my human." As petty as she is, Rima raises a wall between the two of us. I roll my eyes, knowing she isn't actually hurt but just wants to be dramatic.
With a contented sigh, I lean back against the window and watch the guards patrolling the school grounds. Their marches are based on routine and they scold a student for wandering outside without a group. It reminds me of when I tried to miss my class yesterday and had some guard haul me from the library back to rune class. Father yelled at me for an hour after that, saying that I was irresponsible and selfish for forcing him to change his focus from work.
Catching up on my history is not selfish, but stomping the family name is.
"Well, well, look who decided to stay." With a sigh, I turn to watch Vex and her two friends striding towards me. "I thought you would have flown back to your island, to be with your own kind."
"Beat it, Vex, I have much more important things to do," I say evenly.
She lifts her chin, stopping at my bench. "It must be agonizing to not see your dragon during class." She gazes out the window and down at the empty courtyard where Rima's usually laying under the oak tree.
Lillian flicks her blonde hair over her golden robe. "Animals are drawn together."
"Is that why you're always around me?" I ask casually, turning back to the window as if they're not there. Their insults slowly drown themselves out the longer I think about Easton and the Darkening.
A father's sacrifice to balance Gods playground yields a fragile unity. But a broken soul will forever wither, bringing a shadow to stretch across the land, and The Darkening shall usher in an age of anarchy.
Holland told me to leave The Darkening alone...
Going against Hollands settles badly in my stomach. But Mages are known for their knowledge about everything and books. My first thoughts go to the library but quickly dismiss the idea. There are hundreds of thousands of books in that library and I doubt the librarian would help the half-breed. Professor Mikel would most likely know more, but with me failing his class, he wouldn't be willing to help.
If all else fails, I will go to the library.
"Leaving already, half-breed?" Scarlet asks snidely as I stand.
My shoulders bounce as I leave, "Yeah, I got a little bored,"
Professor Mikel sits at his desk, scribbling over student's projects and exams with a red pen. He doesn't look up when I knock on the open door.
"Come in," he says, doing a double glance at me. He stiffens and straightens in his chair. "Miss. Crimson, I'm surprised you found this room from your lack of attendance to my class."
Thought the comments are deserved, they don't annoy me like I expected them to. Still, it takes a small amount of effort to sound polite. "May I come in?"
He waves a hand to his room, beckoning me in. I enter and surprise him when I sit in the chair at his desk in front of him. He raises a peppered brow, folding his arms on the table. "Miss. Crimson, what is so important that you deem to bless me with your presence today?"
My fingers pick at my thighs. I only give a piece of what I need, deeming it best to not give too much away. Professor Mikel works for this academy and is a loyal mage. If my family asked, I have no doubt that he would gladly hand over any information to my parents. "I'm looking to learn more about a myth. A father of our people, in relation to Gods? Does it rings any bells?"
"If you paid any attention in my class you would know that we covered that topic in lecture four."
I frown, shaking my head. "No, you went over the Battle of Rayson lake. The one where common's people were fighting with the mages for territory of the lake's docks so they could use it for markets and fish. But then we came along and built a whole wall of dirt to keep them out until they gave up and handed us the lake."
Thank Gods, I caught up on my studying.
The professor in his bright yellow and grey checkered suit grimaces. "Then it was in lecture five."
Again, I shake my head. "Sorry, that was you going over Rexis, the God of Time, and Renelia, Goddess of Change, for that project we had. The one where we had to pick a god to write about."
Professor Mikel stares at me for a moment as he processes my sudden burst of knowledge. He leans back in his seat, watching me from behind stippled fingers. "You seem to know a lot about my class for someone who's failing it."
I shrug.
"I might be able to assist you if you help me understand this sudden interest in history."
Holland's mini-lecture in the kitchen comes to mind. Something could be prevented if people learned from their mistakes. Maybe I should learn from mine. "Well, I've realized that history influences our present. Sometimes it comes to bite us later on."
"I see," he says, rising from his seat and striding around the room like he does during lecture. I sigh but track his movement. "There are stories of our origin, that have long since been relegated to children's fables. They describe a god who created this planet to give himself a family. There was a war amongst the gods and in order to save our planet, he sacrificed a part of himself. He managed to save us, but nobody has seen or heard of him since."
My brows furrow and I find myself leaning forward in my seat, heart quickening. A father's sacrifice; I think. "What was his name? What did he sacrifice?"
"That information has been lost with the ages." He strokes the peppered beard around his mouth, glancing at me sidelong from the corner of the side of the room. He pauses. "But the library may have some adequate information for you. Level seven, I believe."
I blink, taking a second to register his words. He's making me work for this, isn't he? But if this is for revenge or a lesson or both, I don't know. Either way, I stand from my chair and make way to the door when he stops me.
"May I ask you one more thing, Miss. Crimson?" I turn to the desk he sets a hand on, and nod. "Why is it that you choose to fail my class?"
My shoulders square and my muscles tense as I think back to my family. "My history has shown that my parents detest failure. I take my victories where I can."
------------------------
Quickly, I make my way through the halls and climb up a spiraling staircase that opens into a high-vaulted room with intricate stone carvings above. Row after row are neatly placed books with their spines facing outward. My eyes rove over the wooden shelves that rise to the top of the ceiling. Eight levels are reached by stone staircases along the room. The smell of old yellow pages mixes with lingering scents of aging cloth fills the large room. My gaze roves over the tables, cushioned chairs, and lamps in the room. Only two of them are occupied for the near end of lunch.
Guilt webs around my heart as I watch the air mage read his book with hands in his hair and elbows planted on the table. His blue robe is draped over the back of his chair, its hems pooled on the floor. He wears our school uniform but its white-collar is pulled loose and his grey dress pants are wrinkled. When he glances up at me, his eyes widen.
I sigh, knowing that I should apologize for taking my anger out on him. As I approach he shrinks into his seat, a hand hiding the side of his face.
"Hey," I tell him with a gentle voice, forcing out a small smile. Maybe he did just want to watch Rima. Luckily for me, the petty, two-colored dragon still has her bond raised between us, waiting for me to cave in and ask to be let in. It means I don't have to feel her skepticism as I apologize.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you," I tell him.
Slowly, he nods, finger tugging at his brown hair. It's nearly as long his middle finger and grazes his eyebrow. "It's okay." His voice is kind, though his jaw works in ticks. I can't tell if he's mad or just really nervous.
Just in case it's not the latter, I push on. I glance down at his book, frowning at the black and white picture of a dragon. "No, really. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. You just caught me at a... bad moment."
Now that we're closer to each other I realize his green eyes have specks of brown in them. They're not like Easton's bright green, but instead, remind me of pine trees. "I heard. I don't like your mother."
I blink a few times before narrowing my eyes. Anyone who goes against my mother, and willingly tells me, is a spy. Still, I indulge myself, if only to go back to my mother later on and expose her. Or rub it in her face. "Really?"
"I don't like bullies," he mumbles, still keeping a hand at the side of his face.
"No one does," I reply dryly. "But, uh, why are you always hovering around my dragon?"
Enthusiasm sparks in his eyes. He straightens and slides his book to me. "I like dragons."
I smile, almost bursting into a fit of laughter. A mage, actually liking a dragon? And a mage telling me that he dislikes one of the most famous purebloods among all mages? Does my mother really think me stupid enough to believe this?
"Really?" Trepidation drips into my voice.
The mage nods and reaches into his backpack on the floor. I watch him rummage around for a few seconds before he pulls out a notebook. He flips through the pages and I catch flashes of quick sketches and colors of a rainbow of colors. Finally, he stops on a drawing of Rima and I flying in the clouds. Her wings are spread, jaw open but she doesn't look vicious like most mage drawings of dragons. Instead, she looks at peace, joyful even. Free.
The sight makes me gasp and lean forward. "Whoa," I breathe, taking in every detail. My gaze flicks to him and I gesture a finger to the book. "May I?"
When he smiles, eagerly handing me the book, I pull up a chair behind me and flip through the pages. Some pictures are sketches of landscapes or random things, but most of them are of Rima. One is of Rima flying over the school, her body banked toward the ground. But others are made up of his imagination, like her flying over a mountain valley with a river below. I'm even in some of these, either sprawled across the grass with Rima or on her back during flight.
For a spy, he's very dedicated. All of these must-have taken hours, days even. It must have been agonizing to draw his greatest enemy. Still, I find myself indulging.
"These are beautiful." My fingers gently brush over the red and white pencil markings. "You even have the scales right -- tiny triangles."
"Thank you." When I look up at him again, the shy-shell of a mage is gone, melted into a completely different person. He shifts in his seat, biting his bottom lip with an eagerness in his eyes. He takes the book from me and flips through the drawings, pointing and going way into depth about each drawing. How long it took him, how he got the inspiration.
"Her wings are always the hardest," he says. "I can never get the shape right."
"I think you did really well." My comment is true and genuine. He smiles, flashing white teeth. I notice the freckles dotting over his cheeks. They're barely noticeable.
"I, uh, you know those air currents you guys get?" I nod, still examining the pictures. He sets a hand on his chest, blushing. "That was me. I did that."
Now I really have to laugh. "That was you? I thought-"
"It was me. I like watching you both fly... It looks peaceful," he admits with a shy smile. "And sorry about the other current, from, you know, the other week. I messed up." Immediately my mind goes to the rough burst of air that sent me spinning out of control. Some might expect me to be angry, but nothing bad happened so there is no point in being mad.
My mother has picked an amazing spy, I'm falling right into this. But what if he's not a spy, I think, not every mage is the same.
"Don't worry about it, near-death keep things interesting. I'm Norah."
"I know." He gives me a sheepish smile and shrug. "I'm Adam. Adam Morion." He says, glancing over his shoulder at the one other person in the library. Then, he turns back, leaning in close and dropping his voice to a whisper. "What's your dragon's name?"
I mimic him, smiling a bit. "Rima. She's very into herself."
Adam chuckles. "That's what books tell me too. What's it like? In the sky?"
"Freeing." There isn't a hint of hesitation in my voice. "I feel like a dragon when I'm up there. Like I can take on anything in the world. And, thank you for your little bursts, it really made flying fun... and thrilling." I wink, hoping he catches my meaning back to the horrible spin-off a few weeks ago.
"Can you talk to your dragon? Can you talk to other dragons? How does it work?" The overload of questions takes me back but I recover quickly. And though I would normally be thrilled to answer his questions, I reserve myself in case he is working for my mother. I know I shouldn't judge every mage the same, after all, not all of them are snobs, some even grew up with dragon riders. Though sometimes, it's hard to remember that when an entire faction hates you.
"Well," I begin, shifting in my spot. Carefully, I steer Adam away from his more specific questions until were just talking about Rima and her favorite things. I jut my chin to his book. "What are you reading?"
He shrugs broad shoulders. " It goes on about the different breaths that a dragon have. Like fire, frost, gas, some don't even have a breath, they just scream."
I nod. "Those are mostly black dragons. Most scream and instill fear into their victims. Riders have to go through special training to resist the urge to cower."
His eyes widen. "Really?"
"Yeah. It's not very fun."
"You've been through it?"
I shrug, remembering Stormcutter. Even thinking about his shriek makes my ears ring. Though it may not compare to Rima's ear-shattering screech, the memory of collapsing to my knees, hands over my ears and terror pounding through my veins, is enough to make me shiver. It took months to get used to.
As we go on, deepening our conversation, the book in front of him makes me think of something. Shifting, I lay my hands on the table, fingers gently tapping against the polished wood. "Hey, do you know the library pretty well?"
He scoffs light-heartedly. "Pretty well?" He waves a hand to the entire library. "I know this place like the back of my hand. No book unturned."
Perfect. Hiding my eagerness and relief of saving me a few hours of searching for the book, I unfold the piece of paper Professor Mikel gave before I left and hand it to Adam. "Can you help me find this book? I need it for a history project."
He takes the paper and studies it with a thoughtful nod. I watch as a puzzled look crosses his face, then he grins. "Yeah, I can do that. Level seven with all the other god and goddess related books." He gazes up at the thousands of shelves of books above us. I find it hard to mimics Adam's eager smile.
I watch him stand suddenly and saunter to some of the staircases. He freezes halfway up and looks to me expectantly. He gestures a hand to follow. "Come on."
Adam leads to the seventh level that follows the entire perimeter of the library. Silently, I watch Adam runs his fingers over every spine on the shelves, searching over the books. He mumbles to himself before we're nearly halfway around the level and pulls out a book. My back straightens from its slouch and hope rises.
"Book of The Gods," he says, flipping through the pages of the book as if he's already read it. The air presses to my face, stale and musty. "I read this book when I first got here for a history project too. Pretty informative."
He skims over the text, never noticing my outstretched hand, beckoning for the book. "Adam," he looks up and notices my hand. "May I?"
"Oh! Yeah, you probably want to read it. Here." He hands it to me and I pull the giant book to my chest. We head back down to the ground floor and sit at the table to read until the remainder of lunch is over and were forced back to our class.