He dodged and twisted from abilities being thrown at him, missing the professors’ assaults with ease. He loped through a tunnel, and the light of the auditorium was swallowed up in an instant. Snarling, he charged, flying out the end to skitter to a stop. Professor Iasan stood between him and Memphis, a glittering sword in his right hand and a small ball of flame dancing in his left.
A low growl ripped through him and Professor Iasan tutted, “Now, Brokk, you must understand this isn’t personal. You are so full of talent. Now use it.”
Fire swirled and consumed his world. All he could see were roaring flames, all he could feel was heat. Smoke filled his nostrils, his lungs, and he was drowning. He was cornered, and he was suffocating. Blindly flinging himself forward, Brokk shifted back just as Professor Iasan parted the fire to his will, and glittering steel cut toward him. He didn’t think, he just reacted. Shifting back, he spat on the ground, salvia mixed with blood. His muscles were pulled taut and his fist slammed into flesh. Iasan’s jaw cracked, his head snapping back. Panting heavily, a strange ringing filled in his ears. Iasan rubbed his jaw, his gaze honing back to his student, with malice burning in them.
“Enough, Iasan, enough!”
Professor Lein’s voice rang out, her cry making everyone stop. Memphis was frozen behind Iasan, his usual pale skin ashen. She glared at him snapping, “Foster, come here now!” Heaving, he spun around and trudged toward his furious teacher, her glowering gaze cutting through him with each step. Snapping her teeth, she exclaimed, “Foster, what are you thinking? You too, Iasan! Class dismissed!”
Her grey hair was piled high on her head, her stubborn gaze challenging any of the students to defy her. Ripples of whispers came to life as everyone collected their things and began filing out. Memphis shook his head slightly before turning his back on his friend. Turning her attention to them, she nodded curtly, and they followed her out of the auditorium.
The hallway was relatively quiet considering it was just after lunch. Brokk internally groaned, knowing exactly where Lein was taking them. It was the last person he wanted to see. Iasan shot him a smug look as they finally rounded a corner to a pair of old oak doors. Professor Lien knocked twice, the rapt sounding twice as urgent from her anger. The door swung open and Roque stood there, his dark eyebrows raising as he took the group in, his emerald eyes holding Brokk’s gaze last. His hair was disheveled, and bruised skin lined underneath his eyes. His silver shirt and black pants were rumpled Brokk couldn’t remember the last time their leader looked so unkept. The resemblance to Emory was stark; she held all her father’s physical traits with her mother’s wildness and kind heart. For that, he was grateful, as Roque focused on him, coldness filling his gaze.
Roque gruffly snapped, “Lein! What is the matter of this visit? You’ve caught me at a bad time.”
Lein sighed, shooting them another glare before answering Roque. “Maybe Foster should explain this to you. Iasan, I will deal with you.” Iasan paled slightly under Lein’s stern gaze and a flicker of gratification shot through Brokk. Iasan wouldn’t be let off easy. The two professors took off in a low, heated conversation, leaving Brokk alone under Roque’s stare.
Roque hurriedly cleared his throat, blinking hard as he curtly said, “Well, you might as well come in.”
Resigning himself to the fact this would not be easy, Brokk stepped forward into the Fae’s office. A chaos of papers, bookshelves, and maps met Brokk. Nei and Cesan sat at the round polished table in a heated argument, oblivious at first to their arrival.
“Cesan, for the last time I will not let you—”
Roque slammed the door behind Brokk, making him jump. Nei’s words died in her mouth as she realized he was standing beside her husband. She shot Cesan a warning look before rising. “Brokk, what can we help you with? Cesan here was just leaving.”
He shot a glance at Cesan, his dark ambiance like his son, Adair’s, filling and suffocating the room. Bowing mockingly to Nei, he strutted by them, while Roque’s dark gaze followed his friend silently. Warning, hot and sure, flared within his gut. What had he just interrupted? A dark curiosity bloomed within him and he stepped forward, clearing his throat and pushing his thoughts aside.
“It’s... well, it’s about me punching Professor Iasan in the face during ability training.”
Nei’s lips curved slightly upwards, her kind eyes waiting for more explanation. Roque stormed in front of Brokk snapping, “An assault against a teacher can result in expulsion.”
Gnashing his teeth together, he volleyed, “And pushing students to react in violence doesn’t need consequences? Sir, I beg you to listen to what I’m saying. Iasan isn’t teaching us, he is forcing us to always be on the defense, to always act with vengeance. To be weapons without compassion. To forget what it’s like to be human.”
Roque ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Brokk. Sit down. Iasan has his methods, as we all do. He pushes you because he believes that you can achieve great things. He is brusque and stern and disciplined, but he knows no other way. The tides of this world have been pushed into change with great effort from all of us. It is the younger generation that will dictate whether the dream and purpose of the Academy lives on.
