Darkness in Valhalla

Chapter 1: Lasting Impressions

Valhalla was considered an honor; to me, it was a death wish. While everyone raved about the privilege and prestige that came from training here, all my mind could grasp was the sheer terror in my heart. Sitting on the scarred wooden table, I silently observe the empty classroom and its eerie silence and attempt to calm my nerves. I take in the champagne scent of the crushed magnolias I've prepared for the students, hoping for the sweet aroma to distract me from my impulsive thoughts, but they don't.

Instead, I recall my mother's pride when I informed her that I'd be leaving for Valhalla, a stark contrast to her ever-constant disapproval all these years. My hands tighten around the edge of the desk as my shoulders stiffen, and it's all I can do to not walk up to the tables in front and smash the glass apparatus. I envision the shattering clicks; the thought soothes me; unconscious violence was perhaps the only relief I could afford here.

"Get it together, Az." I breathe.

I find myself looking out the window into the landscape below me. The southern grounds are the most vacant; the pathways lie empty, with the only speckle of life, the sparrows chirping near the grove.

"Astraea?"

Someone gasps behind me as if I were an apparition from the past. Turning around, I find the recipient of the shock. Wide gray eyes stare into mine, slightly hidden by the guy's long dark strands. Sharp jaw with lips slightly parted in surprise, he doesn't let me leave his sight. The academy monogram gleams on his pressed shirt, and so does the gold ring on his index finger. A well-built physique was a characteristic most students possessed, considering the intense training, but with his incredibly fitted shirt, he sported it way better than the others. Way better.

To my utter disbelief, my nerves settle. A few minutes ago, I was terrified over what it meant to stand in the midst of the enemy, and then as of this moment, I couldn't help but admire the attractive stranger who somehow knew me.

I gather my thoughts, "Um, do I know you?"

The stranger appears to compose himself, masking his initial surprise with nonchalance.

"No, I don't think you do," he deadpans, "I'm Caspian Andreas. I'm the guy who is supposed to help you around, including giving you a tour that was two hours ago."

Embarrassment strikes, but before I can apologize, he continues,

"But it seems you don't need any help, so why bother." He shrugs, making his way toward the back row.

Arrogance and entitlement were also common traits I witnessed here. Any hope I garnered about here was gone. The desire to commit something recklessly comes but is interjected by logical fear; any rash behavior would inevitably send me to the gallows. So, I inhale the champagne once more and walk over to the end.

"Listen, I'm sorry I missed your tour, but I wasn't aware that freshman activities would apply to me," I explain, trying to make amends.

He snickers, "are you taking first-year courses?"

"A few, but...."

"If you're bound to those freshman academics, then you can make time for a tour," he says sourly, "and even if you wanted to ditch, you should've told someone, so I didn't have to waste an hour waiting for you."

"Listen, I'm sorry your beauty sleep got interrupted, but that's no way to talk to...."

"Talk to who?" He bites back, "a powerless little alchemist?"

That one stung. What his smug attitude didn't know was that I wasn't weak; if anything, I was more powerful than he could imagine. He could've been fifty feet underground if I had my way, but I abstain because if the world found out I was a Necromancer, I would end up in the grave with him.

"That was uncalled for," I smile, "but if you had any guts, you'd prove that to me. So, what do you say, pretty boy, up for a friendly match after class?" I mock.

If there was one thing the people at Valhalla honored, it was a challenge. I visualize the glimmering golden words engraved on every building at the academy, "Valor, Victory, Valhalla," mere sentiments bounding the people to a false sense of bravery and commitment. It disguised triumph as birthright and death as a patriotic sacrifice. The blindness of the people was what astounded me; they were ready to lay down their lives but never to question why.

While I contemplated the academy's purpose, Andreas looked down on me. He stepped close enough for me to internally flinch. I glared back, masking my anxiety with amusement. A part of me wants to wipe his soft hair from his eyes, so I can fully drown in that mesmerizing storm. Before I question why I'm wondering this, his face steps awfully close to mine. I still don't move, but my unease grows, and it's a relief when I find his head tilt and his lips turn toward my ear.

"I don't think anything would end up friendly between us little alchemist," he whispers, "so unless you're willing to fall, you'll retract that offer."

Double meanings never sat well with me, but before I could respond, I hear the shuffling of feet. Andreas leans back into his seat smugly while I just stand there, wholly convinced of the anger spreading through my cheeks. I turn towards the main desk while others make their way to their seats. After a few breaths, I calm myself. Throwing that boy out of the window would only bring disapproval from the academy and my patron. Murmurs fill the silence, and I notice a few confused glances towards me, and that's the final straw.