The Cursed One ✔ - Book One of the Phoenix Trilogy

Four ~ Broken Ties

PHOENICIAN ACADEMY

"Lord Ronheild, when are you leaving to fetch your subordinate? May I request an audience from you to assess mine before you depart?" Master Xerxis Vondui asked Lord Ronheild the moment he appeared in front of the double doors of the Academy-South of Phoenicia.

The academy stood high and mighty, looking more like a palace than an institution. It was bigger than the Phoenician's Royal Palace itself where Lord Ronheild had been a moment ago. It was surrounded by lush forest and decorated with wildflowers. The air was fresh and fragrant.

"Of course, Xerx!" replied Lord Ronheild, amusement laced in his voice. "Ah, ever the excited one. You should have the award of being the fastest one to fetch your subordinate!" he playfully added.

"Finding the chosen one is a serious business, milord," Xerxis retorted with sarcasm. He wore an orange cloak; a couple of levels lower in rank; an orange fire wielder who was once the Lord's best friend during their training times.

"Xerx, since when did you become so formal to me? It's still me, Ronnie! We trained here together," Lord Ronheild said sadly.

"Since you've become the headmaster, Milord. It would be disrespectful to call you Ronnie."

Lord Ronheild was silent, eyes filled with intensified pain were masked by his blue hood. Regret was evident in his tone when he spoke, "Looks like you never overcame your defeat of having my position as headmaster. If I could, I would gladly give it to you to make you happy. You know you are more like a brother to me."

Xerxis grit his teeth and seethed out, "The fact remains that you can't, so let's just drop the pretence. We are needed at the assessment chamber."

His temper was getting the better of him. Having a full-fledged demonic bloodline from both parents was never easy.

Lord Ronheild was caught off guard by the bluntness of Xerxis' words. He was about to appease him but at the last minute, he bit his tongue. They were, after all, victims of fate's bitter humour. He understood too well the root cause of bitterness. It was never about the position.

Not anymore, at least...

Seeing Lord Ronheild's conflicted body language-from his hand that he raised midway as if he was about to reach out for him, then suddenly, moved it back down again as he decided not to-Master Xerxis bowed, seemingly with great difficulty, then spat, "Milord."

The air hung heavily with an unseen tension between them. They both stood stoic, sizing each other up. The pain that enslaved the two of them came from the same reason, the same guilt, and the same woman.

"Alright then, lead the way." Lord Ronheild conceded to desist from the argument as he finally broke the tense atmosphere.

They trotted the hallways towards the said chamber in total silence, both lost in their own set of thoughts. After a few twists and turns, they finally reached the door made of great oak wood; gold trims on the edges and carved fire designs on both sides with five levels of colours.

Guards stood on each side, paying attention as soon as both masters were spotted. Each guard pulled a circular golden handle to open up the door for them.

Once inside the chamber, Lord Ronheild immediately spotted a tall young man around six foot tall with blazing red eyes. His oval-shaped face was evenly matched with a small pointed nose, thin brows complementing his almond-shaped eyes with long, dark lashes.

"Ah. A vampire... Calm down, young man. No harm will come to you in here." Lord Ronheild said to him in a welcoming manner.

A ghost of a smile was visible on his thin lips, his crimson eyes automatically returning to its original cerulean blue colour as he relaxed his stance.