The Bane of Light

Monster Hunting

∞

"Grubby little heathens" I scowled under my breath at the sight before us. Paris and I had been stalking the deserted Nursery Halls for hours now, weaving our way through the corridors looking for any disturbance. Early this morning, Rowena had called an evacuation of the Nursery Hall classrooms, claiming there was a health obstruction and the wing needed to be quarantined. She made it clear that students were forbidden from entering this part of the castle, and that only meant one thing: they had located the Chudovische.

Paris and I had planned to investigate the hall at night, when the academy was deserted, both students and professors tucked away into their beds. The fact that the Nursery halls were a part of the castle I often eluded, didn't make the experience any more enjoyable for me though.

I lacked the patience to deal with both children and their obnoxious behavior, so visits to the younger classes were absolutely avoided. Shapeless watercolor paintings were plastered to the walls, pastel blobs dancing on the animated paper. It was absolutely horrendous to look at, an assault of the eyes with their lopsided drawings. I shuddered at the sight.  If their work was absolute garbage, I found it necessary to inform them of it. Talent isn't born from coddling feelings over finger paintings.

"Don't tell me you hate children too" Paris asked me, looking absolutely bewildered at my proclamation. His facial expression was unbelieving, washed in the pale moonlight streaming through the windows.

"They're dirty and loud and have no regard for appropriate social conduct. They can't keep their sticky little hands to themselves, and I can't stand baby talk" I justified curtly, scowling at their horrible art work. My nose crumpled at the sight.

"But they're adorable" He said in a confused tone. Of course Golden Boy Arobynn liked children. And of course the sticky, little monsters adored him. Why wouldn't they? It's not like he was the dark practitioner with a bad temper and slightly murderous tendencies.

"They're gremlins. Glorified ankle biters, at best" I ground out. So far, we had discovered no disturbances in the area. My shadows were sweeping the hall ahead of us, making sure to alert me in case there was a sighting. I had done my best to ignore Paris for the past few hours, but my resolve was quickly crumbling with impatience.

"Then you're technically an ankle biter too. You barely surpass them in height. Midget on midget crime"

"That is a slur", I hissed at him, "And I am perfectly average height. Five-foot-six is above average". I was lying. I was not, in fact, five-foot-six, but he didn't need to know that.

"You are tiny both in the standard of mortals and mages" Paris snarked back, a bemused smile on his lips. I scowled at him, stomping ahead so I wouldn't have to reply.

He was right, of course. Witches, with their faint traces of divine DNA, were known to be taller than the average human. That, along with better durability, lower mortality rates, and healthier physiques, were what often contrasted us from mortals.  Ibet was a perfect example of this, being statuesque and alarmingly tall.

She was a vision of vigor with her six feet of lean muscle and long-legged grace, easily able to strike down a grown man with one swift move. She often reminded me of an Amazonian warrior, greatly resembling the females with bronzed, toned bodies and dignified strength.

The conversation between Paris and I had died down, since I refused to dignify him with a response. There was no need for me  to indulge in his playful banter. We were here to catch a demon, not crack jokes at each other like we were swell friends. Our footsteps were the only sounds in the hall now. Well, Paris's footsteps were the only sound in the hall; mine were completely soundless as I padded alongside him. My shadows did good to slide under my feet and muffle the noise.