“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he answers, his thumb wiping my tears away.
A loud wail echoes across the maze.
Time to get moving.
After all of the torment and mental fatigue, finding the end of the maze was pretty anticlimactic. We were so exhausted mentally and physically, that we didn’t even register that we were stepping over the threshold back into reality.
We must have run for hours, evading the spider determined to feed on us.
The indigo night sky sparkles above us as if someone splashed moon dust across it. I take a deep breath, breathing in the smell of pine trees and freedom. And the noises! Actual sounds create a symphony of life around us. Students chatter among themselves, and fireflies twinkle and zip around. Even the wind creates its own unique clamor.
Finnley stays by my side as we make our way through the crowd.
Bruised, bloodied, and ragged.
A stoic reserve replaces his usual playfulness. He refuses to say what happened in the mirror or how he got out, and as much as I want to know, I also respect his wishes.
Prospects and upperclassmen alike mix and mingle with us. It looks like they’ve deemed us worthy of interaction now that we haven’t died during Asylamation week. Now that we’re technically no longer prospects but first-years.
I should feel exhilarated that I’m officially a student at Kintoira.
I survived.
What I should be doing is joining in on the celebration. Partaking in the free-flowing ale and camaraderie that’s finallybeing extended our way. I shouldn’t be standing off to the side searching the throng of classmates for a certain captain.
A certain nowhere-to-be-seen captain.
I’ve been casting myself in self-doubt this entire week, and when I finally succeed, I isolate myself by searching for someone who isn’t even here. Someone who couldn’t even make it a priority.
Finnley is pulled into conversation by a few other first years. It honestly feels a bit surreal. I take the opportunity of his distraction to push a little farther through the throng of students and get a better view of our surroundings.
Fire crackles in the air around me. Numerous firepits burn throughout the training field, casting students in their warm shadows. The sound is comforting in a way. It has a very peaceful ambience to it. A striking contrast to our weary and depleted forms. So many of us are streaked with dried blood and varying injuries.
In fact, a dark reddish-brown coats my knuckles. The sting has dulled, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to visit the medical wing first thing tomorrow.Again. Various places on my face and neck also sting from being pulled through the hedge. My once pristine uniform, along with most of the other first-years’, hangs in various states of disarray.
It’s hard to tell how many we lost this trial, if any, as so many Veils and Noctryns are scattered among us. I try to let the warmth of the flames chase away the frigid sting of disappointment.
He isn’t here.
I’d have seen him by now. He stands taller than most, and I’d have easily spotted him. Disappointment buries itself all the way to the bone, and I can feel the pressure of tears behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
I’m done crying over the people in my life.
He won’t take my pride along with everything else he’s stolen. My heart included. There had to be a valid reason he couldn’t make it.
Sharp feminine laughter pulls my attention back to Finnley. He now has an arm slung over the shoulder of a petite brunette wearing a Noctryn uniform.
That’s probably not going to end well.
She tucks her head and giggles at something he says, causing her short hair to partially conceal her face. He must really be laying on the charm.
My lips pull up into a small smile. It’s good to see him thawing out and returning to his usual self.
I just hope he’s not putting on a mask and burying his inner turmoil.
“Disgusting, isn’t it?” a female voice asks out of nowhere, her tone instantly causing my smile to drop.
I turn my head slightly to face her.
