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“I had an opening in my schedule.”
“Huh, I wonder when that was created.”
“This morning,” Headmaster Whisperfelt replies with a cruel smirk. A smirk that’s so different to Ryes’s despite the familiarity in their facial features. They both have the same straight, but raised noses, and the same plump lips.
But where Ryes is full of warmth, and maybe a cheeky deposition, this man is pure ice, purevenom.
“This was an experiment, and after another month of no progress,” Headmaster Whisperfelt continues, his lip curling into a snarl. “And after careful consideration from those with vested interest in Zoe’s future, we’ve deemed it a failure.”
“I see,” Necos replies. “That’s great. Zoe, can you open up a portal for us? We’ll head to the dorms, grab your things and then leave.”
“You can’t take her anywhere without Theran’s permission.” Headmaster Whisperfelt has gone from being relaxed, and even amused, to frustrated.
I don’t understand what’s caused the quick change, and it’s causing me to panic.
Necos snarls, rounding the table as bright silver magicae bursts from his hands. He grabs Headmaster Whisperfelt’s arm, and his magicae appears like silver coloured ropes around the headmaster’s arm, and I watch in a scarily morbid fascination as Headmaster Whisperfelt starts to age in front of my very eyes.
His hair starts to grey, his porcelain skin getting more and more wrinkles as it sags, and he even loses an inch or two in height.
A tear drips down my cheek, and I blink furiously to stop more falling.
I cannot pity this man.
I refuse to, considering what he’s done to Ryes and Tien, but it’s hard to ignore the pain he’s in.
His soul is screaming out for my assistance, and I’m struggling to ignore the urge. I beat it into the corner of my mind, needing to be strong for Necos, but it’s a vigorous effort.
I’m weak.
I’m pathetic.
“This is what I can do,” Necos says, and Headmaster Whisperfelt trembles. He looks my way, but I duck my head to look at my hands instead.That makes me no better than if I sat and watched, I know, but I can’t.“I could continue ageing you up, taking away your mortality, and leave you as the disgusting rotten corpse you are. Then we’ll see who is the true waste of resources.”
I close my eyes, retreating into my mind when there’s a bang.
I’m not strong enough for this. I killed people without flinching, my soul magicae recognising their souls as toxic, but this kind of mind game?
I can’t handle it.
I know Ryes will ask about it, and I know the others will be ashamed that I’m hiding…
Zohar’s image comes to mind, his calming presence as he lectures me for thinking badly about myself. I bite my tongue, metaphorically, since it’s not a verbal spilling of abuse, but mental.
My guys know me. They’ve always known who I am—even better than I know myself.
They’re not going to be ashamed of me because they’ll not have expected any different.
When I reopen my eyes, I’m surprised to see that time has slowed, only evident by how Headmaster Whisperfelt is barely moving, and Necos is giving me a patient look.
He’s waited, letting me process my own worries in my mind and slowed time down so that I can do it without drawing the attention from Headmaster Whisperfelt.
“You did really good there,” Necos praises, giving me one of his rare toothy grins. I return the smile, and his eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry this is hard on you, Elzora. I promise I will return him back to his prime—even if he doesn’t deserve it. If you can class a man in that shape as—”
I fake cough, barely clearing my throat, and he laughs at the distraction.
“I get it. So, he can’t remove you from the school but he can withhold their resources. We wanted to drop the other classes anyway, the ones with the professors here, because as amazing as what they’re teaching you is, at the moment, the priority is learning how to defend yourself.”
“You mean learning which spoon to use or which wave to use in each situation isn’t the priority right now?” I ask, faking confusion. He snorts, and I find it a nice change of pace to see him this relaxed.
