██▓▒­░⡷⠂𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙰𝙱𝚈𝚂𝚂 𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙷⠐⢾░▒▓██

8. Past of glass

"In abyssal depths where demons creep, fear hides in shadows, secrets keep. Forgiveness, light that breaks the night, In you is were I founded, embracing your plight."

----------

The entrance to the room echoed with soft warning knocks on the white, painted, and lacquered wooden door. Serenely, an officer dressed in bottle-green uniform entered. She carefully held a folder on her lap and cleared her throat before speaking.

"Good evening," the officer commented in a gentle voice. "I'd like to inform you that you need to rest alone now. The night shift is about to begin."

Jonathan looked up from his position on one of the small gray sofas in the room where Belinda was peacefully asleep. Her chest rose and fell regularly, immersed in deep and restful slumber.

After the previous confrontation in his effort to pass the usual performance test at the Academy, Belinda was taken to a building adjacent to the main Academy building, where the emergency hospital was located.

Jonathan insisted on being allowed in, but the officials adamantly refused, arguing that they needed to stabilize her first. For hours, all he could see were the imposing double doors that remained closed to him. They were the kind that led him towards what he desired, yet at the same time denied him easy access. They promised to keep him informed, but he persisted in his desire to be by her side. After all, he was her Half Companion and needed to know how she was doing.

Finally, he was by her side. He noticed that the color of her skin was healthier, more alive. It was no longer the pale and lifeless face he had seen when he tried to help her earlier.

"Can't I stay tonight, at least?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but tomorrow afternoon you can visit her," the officer commented. "A notification was sent to the General Representation of your Division a while ago, so they are aware of the situation. We provided them with all the details. As her Companion, I'm sure they'll help you given the circumstances."

He exhaled slowly, aware that the council was aware of the situation. Now all that was left was to wait to discover what judgments, problems, and virtues they would extract from all of this. He stood up carefully, his shoulders tense from the strain, and felt the pulsations in his temples, a constant and rhythmic throb.

He approached Belinda, who lay deeply asleep on the stretcher. Jonathan gently took one of her hands and squeezed it lightly, silently trying to convey support. An automatic impulse led him to consider the possibility of using some of his Type A abilities to check her vital signs himself. However, he was forced to suppress it. To what extent could he use his abilities? To what extent was he morally obligated not to become a useful soldier solely for his own realm?

Those who did not demonstrate abilities or did not reach a certain level of power were "relocated," but everyone knew they would receive an elegant official notification from the General Department of the Divisions, announcing their expulsion from the Academy if they did not strive hard enough.

"It's okay," he said. A look of sadness crossed his face. He felt his throat like a knot of tangled emotions, waiting for someone to have the courage to unravel what he couldn't express aloud.

He gently placed Belinda's warm hand on the white sheets and stepped away from the bed calmly. He offered a forced smile to the officer before stepping out into the hallway. A straight path of tiles allowed him to walk towards the exit prominently due to the width of the hallway. However, this prominence reflected a spiral of decay, he thought to himself.

The rain had stopped, but the smell of petrichor still lingered in the air. All he wished for at that moment was to lie down in his room and ignore his responsibilities for a while, at least for a few days. Now he had to talk to Aron to see if they could postpone that extra training, at least for a while.