The Black Pawn • The first book of the Black Academy Series

3. Fear

THE BLACK ACADEMY LOOKED beautiful in a dangerous way, the tall towers that held rooms of sleeping students paired with the gorgeous statues which stood on the far corners of the highest turrets. The dark forests covered most of the outside of the school. The ivy-covered benches had students sitting on them during the day. The beautiful gardens had rare herbs and plants growing there. It looked as if somebody had forgotten there were things called hedge-cutters in the world.

Roses that grew on the metal entrance doors to the school. And it was true for a particular student sleeping in her room. Her fitful sleep showed nightmares, or rather memories from her dark past at the Black Academy.

She whimpered softly as a particular time came to her mind. The memory that ran in her mind was from her first year at the Academy. She had turned eight that year, and she had been forced to see the ever-present brutality of the Black Academy.

•

It was her first time using a weapon, and she excelled due to reasons unknown. It was almost as though she was meant to use a weapon, one that could take away someone's life in a split-second movement. She stood over her opponent that was on the floor. It was a girl, older to her by a few months.

"Finish her Ms. Selene," Avaria announced, the woman stood behind her small figure with her hands folded to her chest and a stony expression on her face. Avaria looked at Azalea, a scowl forming on her lips, "Ms. Selene?"

Avaria's voice was like a double-edged sword. Azalea's face was dull as she looked down at the girl in front of her, "But, she's already down."

Ms. Avaria's scowl deepened, the woman's anger radiated off of her. The woman picked up the sword that had been pushed away from Azalea's opponent's hands. She aimed the sword at Azalea's neck.

She tilted her head away from the sword, trying to avoid the sharp edge which started to dig into her neck, dangerously close to her carotid. Ms. Avaria's eyes narrowed as she inched the sword closer, "I do not like to repeat myself, Ms. Selene, finish your opponent."

Azalea dared to move once more. Quickly shifting her sword in her hand as she aimed it as a defense against the sword currently at her throat. Her teacher nodded considering the sword. She moved lightning fast. Her sword struck against Azalea's.

Her hand hurt because of the hit. But she pushed through it and aimed the sword again. Her hand hummed with pain, and her teacher continued to parry her hits. Her young eight-year-old hands didn't have enough strength to even think of standing against the older woman's strength.

When she tried to change her movement, Avaria moved her sword making Azalea's hand lock against the handle uncomfortably.

"Do not stop Ms. Selene, this is your punishment."

Azalea grit her teeth and complied, it was better for her to get hurt instead of her opponent. She continued for an hour, and by the end of it, her hand was bruised purple.

That was the day when Azalea finally understood that the Black Academy was not a normal school. Her hand had been swollen for the next 3 weeks and in every class, she needed to use her hand. The old remedy-making professor had allowed her to not do anything those 3 weeks but that had been one of the reasons the professor had been let go.

She still was scared of that memory. The nightmare was a recurring one. She tended to have this nightmare whenever she thought about the Selection. Having to go through the selection meant her having to face somebody in a fight. Where maiming would be involved.