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“There are other aspects to the Ascension, and I’ll make sure you have all of the information. However, there are other facets of this realm you must understand first. Which is exactly what this class is for,” she interjects, bringing the topic to a close. Most of the students’ hands lower in defeat.
I raise my hand slowly, not exactly sure if I should voice this thought aloud. Chewing on my lip, I keep my hand raised, shoving my doubt aside. She nods for me to go next.
“Olivia, and my brain is still stuck on the whole immortal part …” I trail off and she chuckles at my not really a question—question.
“Yes, I understand how that could be quite the shock. We inherit our immortal lifespan from the ethereal parent. That is not to be said that demigods cannot be killed. However, you will no longer age, and as long as you do not sustain any mortal injuries, you will live an immortal life.”
I nod at her words, allowing them to sink in, unable to fully comprehend the paradox of an immortal life, when just yesterday I believed I was fully mortal, not even knowing of this world or that I belonged to it.
As I stare at the front in thought, Katrina turns to glare at me, sneering for no apparent reason. Rolling my eyes, I focus back on the professor as she motions to another student. There’s no way I’m giving her the satisfaction of provoking me.
“I’m Lucas,” he says, giving a timid wave, glancing around the room. “Who was that god at orientation?” He shivers in fear, his voice coming out small as though remembering Mateo and the power that rolled off him. Surprisingly, it makes him more enticing rather than sparking fear within me. I try not to examine that thought too closely.
Professor Gabris shuffles from one foot to the other, fidgeting with her marker before looking back up uncomfortably. That was Mateo, God of War, we—”
As though merely speaking his name had summoned him, the god in question pushes open the wooden door, the knob cracking in his broad, muscular hand. Of course, he would follow. Why wouldn’t he? That’s just how this day is going. My resident stalker, apparently.
You would think the god of war would have more important things to do than follow little old me around all day. I look up in exasperation once he spots me, not deigning to look at anyone else in the room. He strides confidently over to me, glaring at the man sitting on my other side.
The man sputters, hurriedly grabbing his belongings before darting over to an empty seat across the room. I huff out a breath of annoyance, watching as Mateo narrows his eyes suspiciously at the small chair and desk that look much too minuscule for his large muscular frame. Grimacing, he lowers himself, perching precariously on the chair, folding himself into the desk as it lifts up onto his legs.
The rest of the class stares silently in shock while he scowls in contempt at the tiny desk and chair, grumbling under his breath. The chair groans beneath him at each minute shift. Feeling the attention on him, he finally glances up, seeing the classes’ focus on him.
He looks up from beneath his brow, shifting his glare from the chair to the students, growling at the few near him. They swiftly turn, directing their attention forward, spines straight in their seats. My eyes shift back to him, a small, amused smile playing on my lips, and I cock my eyebrow in question. Mischief lights in his hazel eyes, reveling in the power and fear he could provoke.
“G-God of War?” Professor Gabris stumbles over her words in an attempt to draw his attention. His head snaps to her, glaring before he even knows what she is trying to ask.
I hadn’t even noticed her approach, too distracted with the comedy ensuing from Mateo’s cramped form in the too-small desk. She extends her oversized leather rolling chair for him. Not wanting to draw any more of his ire, she simply eyes the chair, giving him a polite smile.
He surprisingly drops his glare, staring back with what would be as close to a neutral expression for him, which I am starting to realize is his equivalent to an exuberant smile. Nodding in thanks, he carefully lifts himself from the unsteady chair, knocking it away with more force than necessary and it crashes against the wall behind him. Startling a few students, who duck their heads, wisely refusing to turn in their chairs to witness the scene.
Inclining her head in a slight bow, the professor quickly makes her way back up to the front of the classroom.
“Let’s get started with our lesson for today.” She begins writing on the board, apparently not wanting to admit we had just been speaking about the god currently leaning back in the oversized leather chair comfortably. Propping his leather boots onto the desk with a loud smack, he crosses his arms and reclines further into the chair, relaxing against the plush headrest. He rolls his head over to the side to look at me, a triumphant gleam in his eye, like he accomplished something rather than looking so ridiculous, the professor took pity on him. I clamp my lips shut to avoid the chuckle tickling its way up my throat.
He scowls at the professor as she clears her throat, attempting to draw the class’s attention back to her.
“To understand the history of the gods, we must first start with the two powers that exist within godly beings. There are powers of light and dark, some gods can have powers originating from both sources, but most fit into either category. Light and dark do not necessarily equate to good and evil. One can have dark powers and still use them for an inherently good purpose. The opposite can be said as well. They are simply two forces within the world. One cannot exist without the other.”
“See, I could teach you all of this. It’s the history of the gods. Who better to actually teach it than a god that has lived through all this shit?” Mateo mutters conspiratorially, glancing between the professor and me. I raise a finger to my lips, motioning him to be quiet. Shaking his head in exasperation, he exhales a frustrated breath before leaning his head back once more, closing his eyes this time.
“This brings us to the ten major gods. Their powers are strongest. There are five light and five dark gods that comprise the majors. The first god we will be discussing is Osias.”
At this name, Mateo growls, causing a jolt to echo through the classroom, everyone visibly tensing. Gabris pauses her writing on the board at the growl. Cringing as the sound of Mateo’s boots slapping onto the hardwood floor echo through the eerily quiet classroom. He swiftly pulls a blade out of the sheath on his chest, twirling it through his fingers ominously.
“Do we really need to speak about that pompous ass? His head is way too big already. We should start with someone infinitely more exciting. Me.” He looks at me expectantly, assuming I would agree with him, apparently. I simply shrug my shoulders, not willing to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. Irritating him is quickly becoming a favorite pastime of mine.
The professor pales, her mouth agape as she glances around nervously, backing away to reveal the name Osias written on the board. Her mouth struggles to form words, not wanting to disagree with the mountain of war god sitting in the same room. His jaw grinds as he reads the word written there, the light gleaming off the fresh, still-wet marker strokes.
With no more than a growl betraying his next movement, his hand quickly flicks the dragger, streaming over students’ heads as fast as a bullet. Students duck their heads, tiny shrieks, and whimpers of fear sound across the room before the dagger embeds itself in the board, a bang ringing out. Most students react after the fact, not even noticing the blade’s whoosh through the air until they could hear the boom and see the dagger piercing the board. A board that has a crack running through the middle now due to the force.
The professor’s eyes widen, muscles frozen in fear. I tap his arm to get his attention, his glare now focused on me for the disruption. I glare right back at him, holding his gaze and not budging, knowing his anger needs to be stopped. It’s unfair of him to disrupt the class, but to cause it to ultimately come to a screeching halt is unacceptable.
We stay like this for a few moments, neither of us budging. I almost raise my brow in shock when he finally breaks our gaze, sighing deeply. I smile triumphantly, even going so far as to stick my tongue out at him. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at me before reclining in his chair once more. Closing his eyes in an attempt to shut the class out from his senses.
“Fine. Continue,” he commands in a bored tone, as though he couldn’t care less despite his display just proving how false that blasé tone truly is.
The professor swallows with an audible gulp, hesitantly taking her place at the front of the class once more. She looks around nervously, playing with the cap of her marker, gathering the courage to speak again.
