Grendilton: Rise of the Shadows

19 | Chapter Nineteen

A Shrouded Past.

The events that took place at the Summoners guild took the institute by storm, sending students into a state of panic, making them question whether or not they were safe in the walls of Grendilton. Dean Reginald had no choice but to close the place down, bringing forth the holidays a few weeks earlier than usual, evacuating the entire campus. The students were blissful; however, the faculty became twisted into a frenzy filled with more questions than answers. Luckily for Gilden, this wasn't new to him. He had faced this dilemma more than once, which was why the Citadel ordered for him to be present. The rise of the shadows is what they're calling it. Fools.

It's been almost ten years since the last time Gilden stood before the Citadel of Magics, seated at the stone table of the Paladin Federation. Back then, he was honoured to be a Paladin, wanting nothing more than to become an Overseer — a beacon of hope for the world to see. He trained day in and day out, mastering Advanced Guard then eventually becoming a fire master. As he crossed his ankles, resting his hands behind his neck, the dreams that once billowed his one-track mind were nothing but false accusations. Was I that blind to think that this was all I wanted? A glamorised title, leader of a fascist government?

He brooded, raking his eyes at the well established Paladins base. It made Gilden shake his head, hissing slowly through his teeth.

It had the same marble arches that crossed along the roof, glistening a pearlescent sheen from the sunlight above them. He uncrosses his ankles, planting his feet along the wooden floorboards, pushing at a loose piece of timber that squeaked on impact. The room had somewhat of a musky smell lingering in the room. It was a mix between oatmeal and stale lemons, making him scrunch his nose up.

"¡Odio esto el sitio. Aldontado Citadel." Hazel sat next to him, her heels digging into the side of the marble table before them, rocking back and forth. "Looking at your face, you'd rather be elsewhere."

She had a crease in her forehead, and her lip curled up in the corner of her mouth. Her statement wasn't false, yet it didn't speak the entire truth.

"I'm here for the safety of our students," Gilden muttered, folding his arms across his chest. "The presence of the Citadel will give not only the staff peace of mind but also those who choose to study."

Hazel shook her head and sneered. "We both know this is an enfermo intentar to cover up a mistake they abandoned years ago."

Gilden felt her stony gaze upon him. He didn't want to admit she was right but knew that Hazel was correct. She still harbours hate towards them.

"Wasn't Del meant to be here too?" asked Hazel, throwing her hand in the air. "Or did la cabenza hueca get lost."

Gilden sighed. "Leave her out of this. She's a humble child who adores the rare opportunity given to her."

Hazel rolled her eyes, letting her seat crash back down onto the ground. "She needs to learn about the real-world Gilden. I don't see why you're shielding her from the truth we've faced with this stupid government."

I don't know myself. Perhaps it was the fact that Del reminded Gilden of a younger version of himself, the one who saw the Citadel as the only means of guidance. Or perhaps he didn't want to look like a vigilante that's creating conspiracies against them, keeping the image pure and serene. Whatever it is, it's keeping me away from the dramas that are beginning to unravel.

Gilden rested his elbows on the large stone table, watching Hazel become immensely irritated with each passing second. She began to oscillated water between her fingers, while he began peering at the reflection of it in her deep plum eyes, only noticing now how purple they have become. I never even seen her eyes in this colour.