Darkness in Valhalla

Chapter 3: The Master

War strategy was surprisingly easier than I expected, but given how I'd been learning about it since I was a kid, it would have been a disgrace if I didn't. The stares never cease, nor do the whispers. I pretend I'm unbothered, but the attention starts getting to me, and I lose focus. Spinning a pen between my fingers, my thoughts trail off to this morning, and a smile coats my lips. I spent weeks preparing myself to be invisible, to just be another random face in the crowd, and now those efforts have gone to waste. Despite the worry in my head, I'm a little relieved. I've never exploded this bad before, never really let my emotions take over, and regardless of how much I scold myself, I can't help but love how it felt. How it felt to do what I wanted for once.

Then I hear the whisper that spikes the anxiety even more.

"I heard he went to the Dean." A girl mutters behind me, "he's going to get her...."

I stop listening after that; it wasn't going to do me any favors to find out what my punishment was going to be. A ray of hope glimmers for a second when I imagine that he might kick me out, but it falters when I realize that whatever happens, I'm bound to Anakin for the next five years despite anything that happens. My fingers curl into a fist at the unfairness of it all. I continue rampaging internally when I hear my name. Too quickly, I pull my head up and pull a muscle in my neck,

"Miss Harris," the unfamiliar man at the door calls again, a particular urgency in his words, "Alchemist Ambrose requests your presence in his office immediately."

The mumbles behind me grow louder, but all I can think of is to get this over with. Sliding out of my seat, I grab my satchel and join the pale messenger.

"Shall we?" I grin brightly, might as well leave people confused.

We walk out of the building to the alchemy halls, both silent in our stride. I wonder what the punishment could be and how worse it could be. But I don't go forward with my imagination because this was Valhalla; the worst was never the worst.

Anakin's chambers never cease to awe me. A whole room filled with history and passion in every corner. A glass wall to the right lights up everything in sight, from the olden shelves lining the walls to the books scattered on mahogany tables. Journals and articles spew across the floor, along with broken glass and random instruments. What I love most is the door that opens into the botanical glass house next to the alchemy building. I observe the hazy green behind the translucent doors and then focus on the plants within this room. Ivy vines on the ceiling stretch to the floor, accompanied by rows of pots with flowers, ferns, and more.

"Astraea." I'm called and taken out of my enchantment.

"You summoned me, Anakin?" I respond alertly.

Using his first name still feels foreign on my tongue, but he insisted on it either way. He argued that since I was only a few years younger than himself, there was no need for formalities. Anakin steps out of one of the room's corners, a heavy amber book with a broken spine open in one palm. He looks up and offers me an amused smile, eyes alight with excitement.

"No, how are you, my friend?" He tilts his head, "Would you like to have lunch with me, Anakin?"

I don't fall for his friendliness. This was the man who entered my home two months ago and forced me to join him as his apprentice or watch my family fall some accidental misfortune. In hindsight, I should've negotiated better, but apart from the worry of being exposed, this life wasn't as bad as I feared. Working as his apprentice was taxing but enjoyable, and substituting his lectures was difficult, but my remaining tenure as a Valhalla trainee was progressing normally. That is, if you don't count my considerable lack of social presence. Today might've been the first day of the semester, but I'd been working with Anakin for a few weeks, and all it taught me was that this place was either my ticket to glory or my descent into hell.

"Well? No pleasantries?" He mocks,

I sigh,

"I know you're fine, so why don't we cut to the chase."

He beams, and I can't help but wonder about his life. He's a few years older than me, an electric elemental who somehow garnered enough experience to teach at Valhalla and has been for the past decade. But even with this impressive feat, he's one of the royal advisors in court and, to my knowledge, the youngest one by far. I stare at him; his deep caramel locks reach his neck in messy tangles, his hazel eyes wide in anticipation of something I do not know. Towering, handsome, and strong, but something about him never made sense. I suspected it was related to his insistence on me as his right hand. However, it ran deeper than that, which I was sure of.

"I have an assignment for you." He gestures to the yellowing pages in his hands, "you'll need to go to the western forbidden library and do some research for me. You just need to find everything you can on this toxin and report back to me when you're done."

Dumping the book in my arms, he doesn't even give me a minute to accept,

"The... forbidden library?" I question, "shouldn't that be forbidden or something?"

"It is but not to certain faculty, and you have been granted access on my behalf. Make sure no one tailgates you because no student is allowed there... the punishment is severe." He emphasizes the last word.

Bewildered, I don't ask anything further and make my way out. As much as being in Anakin's company was enticing, it was also vexatious.

"Oh, and also," he says lightly, "try not to intentionally murder anyone in the class; trust me, the paperwork is more awful than the deed itself."

I indicate my understanding and leave. The disillusionment of the moment struck me hard, I went inside with the intention of being criticized or removed, but Anakin couldn't care less about what happened in the morning. He was more bothered by whatever this toxin did, which worried me more. Slowly, I was venturing into the darkness that consumed these people by becoming like them and doing their bidding. Stopping in my tracks, I look in the mirror on my left. My eyes look darker, hungrier for something, and after tasting the Power, I withhold over some; pleasure and distress coincide. It seems that as much as you fight destiny, it only grows more restless.