Like Moths to a Flame // Sebastian Sallow [Book One]

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Lost

Sebastian felt strange all day, but nothing unmanageable. He wondered if he was coming down with something. If so, it was terrible timing. He had hoped to speak with Ominis today, but he was hesitant to do so in his current state. He needed to be clear-headed and ready to argue effectively if Ominis decided to be his stubborn self.

He began to feel woozy at the start of Care of Magical Creatures class, so he sat in the back just in case. He caught pieces of Professor Howin's lecture on Bowtruckles, but he wouldn't trust himself to be able to write an essay on the subject. It wasn't until the end of class that he felt himself slumping down into his desk. His eyes were getting heavy. Perhaps he could rest them for a moment...

Sebastian regained consciousness in the Owlery. He was leaning against the wall. Startled, he gazed out the window only to be greeted by the sight of a darkened night sky. When had the sun set? Class must have ended hours ago. And why was he in the Owlery? Where was Hermes?

Drawing his attention downward, he noticed his right hand instinctively clutching the relic in his pocket. With a jolt, he hastily withdrew his hand. He had a splitting headache. Glancing at his disheveled attire, he tried to find any clues that might explain his current predicament. Everything appeared relatively normal, but his sense of disorientation lingered. Sebastian hoped that no one had witnessed his disheveled state. And if so, hopefully he at least looked like he had his wits about him.

He took a deep breath and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles on his robes. Hermes was nowhere to be seen, indicating that Sebastian had likely sent out a letter. Had he reached out to Anne? He wished he could remember. How much time had he lost? 

Cautiously peering around the corner of the entryway, Sebastian ensured that the immediate path was clear. Satisfied, he made his way down the winding staircase. If he encountered someone familiar along the way, perhaps he could subtly inquire about the missing hours that had slipped through his grasp.

Sebastian descended the stairs, his steps creaking against the old wooden stairs. He faltered upon catching sight of the back of Damien's head. He was perched on a step about halfway down the staircase, staring ahead in silence. 

He advanced hesitantly, closing the space between them. Damien swiveled his head, his eyes meeting Sebastian's with an intense and penetrating gaze. He rose abruptly, straightening his robes as he did so.

"Sebastian?" Damien murmured softly, almost in a whisper.

"Hello, Damien." 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Me? Fit as a fiddle," Sebastian said with feigned cheerfulness. There was no need to worry Damien. Sebastian was sure he had enough on his mind already. He had certainly seemed distracted yesterday in Feldcroft.

Damien's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, I see."

"What are you doing here?"

"Honestly?"

"No, I want you to lie to me," Sebastian retorted, accompanied by a cheeky wink.

Damien didn't laugh. "I followed you here. You were acting quite peculiar."

"Was I?" How could Sebastian find out more without sounding too suspicious?

"You didn't even acknowledge me when I said hello."

Sebastian shrugged. "I must not have heard you."

"You were staring right at me." Damien's voice held a note of exasperation. "I highly doubt you didn't hear me." A crease appeared on his brow as he spoke. "Do you even recall what you were doing?"