Radiance - The Alight Archives Book #1

50. Nasty Scar

Kliff trudged back to the dormitories as the sun slipped below the horizon line, leaving the sky a deep shade of blue. He had hoped that his "meeting" would be brief, but it had dragged on far, much longer than he anticipated. Despite his best efforts, he barely made it to dinner on time, only to find cold plates of duck and vegetables waiting for him. 

He ate his meal alone in silence that night, eager to retire to his room early. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, made worse by the fact that he'd Spellcasting Class with his hyper-passionate professor.

There was hardly anybody present as he tramped through the hall, identical wooden doors scrolling past him on either side, not that he'd expected to be greeted by any faces so close to the ever-dreaded nine-clock hour. 

Typically, they wouldn't show until after nine-thirty, but Kliff had spotted two of them drifting across a cloudless sky, their pale, sinewy bodies catching the light of the Twin Sisters as skinny, almost useless arms trailed beside them as he moved. He had followed Hound's advice, of course, and let them carry on with their work, discounting their presence as he made for the dorm building at a quicker stroll than before.

However, it was hard to ignore the trio of specters poking their head through a portrait hung on the wall to his right, their sickly, yellow-colored eyes sliding from one side of their heads to the next as he passed, just as he couldn't so plainly disregard one of the palish creatures scurrying over the floor like some kind of translucent, undead rat, its detached arms hurrying on after it. 

Although these specters were of the smaller kind, being no larger than a toad one would be able to fit inside their hands. Nevertheless, Kliff didn't see himself getting accustomed to their presence any time soon, and it encouraged him to move even quicker to his room.

Up ahead, there was a figure approaching him, dressed in a plain, gray-colored shirt with a matching pair of short pants and open-toed sandals. The towel folded under the crook in his arm indicated that he was on his way to the washrooms; the specters must not have frightened him as they did so many others, himself included. 

The boy's eyes squinted into a thin line as he took notice of him, stopping a few paces from where Kliff stood slouched. "Another late night studying in the Library, I presume?" he said in a mock stern voice. "Heard you strummed up quite the commotion yesterday with a student in another class. Care to fill me in on the details?"

Kliff sighed to himself. "I'd prefer not to, Cael."

"Figured as much, but I suppose that won't be necessary. I expect that I'll learn as much as I need to when the rumors start to fester, as they always do in time."

Kliff leered at him. Nosy bastard. 

Yes, his roommate had always been one hard to get along with, and even after nearly two months of sharing the same space, Kliff knew little more about him now than he did at the beginning of the semester. Cael Tywin wasn't a mage to hold a conversation, nor did he care to expand upon his own background as he kept himself in a mist so thick venturing into it would be suicide. All that Kliff had learned of him was that he was of a Noble House stationed in the Capital. That was it.

Yet, in total contrast to his sequestered personality, he seemed to love to pry into the lives of others, more particularly, those that, according to him, had succeeded in "capturing his interest," whatever that meant. And so while Kliff couldn't get the boy to cough up his middle name, he hadn't a choice to reveal to him the dynamics of his fire spells if he longed to achieve any semblance of sleep that night, though, admittedly, he wasn't as intense as he had been at the start. What didn't help was how unnervingly monotone his voice was, as quiet as the breeze's whimpers yet as demanding as the roar of a waterfall; Kliff felt like he was obliged to answer him, especially if it meant that their conversation would end sooner.