I made my way out of the hospital wing, each step awkwardly hindered by the sling that felt unbelievably uncomfortable. Just as I stepped through the door, Kaleigh approached, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She scanned me quickly with her little once-overs, as if trying to decipher just how damaged I really was.
"Are you okay, Kiri? I swore Calista was going to tear your arm clean off when I heard it snap," she said, her voice tight with a blend of sympathy and aggression.
I managed a weak smile, though the pain throbbed in my arm like a persistent reminder of the day’s chaos. “I’ll live,” I replied, trying to downplay the incident. “It’s just a sprain now after madam lillibeths expert training in the healing arts—nothing I can’t handle.”
Kaleigh rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Just a sprain? You nearly ended up in the dark abyss for good! You know Calista doesn’t know her own strength sometimes.You were lucky!”
“Lucky isn’t the word I’d use,” I muttered, my mind still reeling from the rush of adrenaline and the shock of the moment. “It wasn’t my finest hour.”
Her brow furrowed, and for a moment, I could see the frustration warring with her concern. “You need to be more careful.”
With a sigh, I nodded, though uncertainty gripped my chest. “I know, I just, sometimes it feels like I’m barely keeping up. Everyone seems to know what they’re doing but me.”
Kaleigh softened, her arms dropping to her sides. “ Kiri. Remember, you have me i will help you train if you need it. Just promise you’ll let me know if things get too overwhelming.”
"kaleigh..." i met her emerald gaze and her look of genuine concern and i sighed " yeah i promise, its not like i went out there intending to get hurt you know.
kaleigh giggled " yes you did, if you werent you would be begging your grandfather to take you out of here and put you in lillibeths wing or something."
i laughed. kaleigh knew begging got us no where with tynon darksbane the light hearted joke did lighten my spirits though i had to admit. " as if i havent already tried, the asshole threatened to kill me himself" i replied akwardly making our way down the stairs to history.
I settled into my spot at the long table, grateful for the momentary distraction from the weight of the day. The castle’s lower floors were a far cry from the vibrant energy of the cavern above, the air thick with the musty scent of old parchment and mildew. It clung to the walls like a stubborn memory, and I grimaced as I inhaled deeply. God, I hated that smell.
Beside me sat two other classmates, both deep in conversation about the latest rumors swirling around the academy. Their voices buzzed like the constant hum of bees, a welcome sound against the backdrop of my swirling thoughts. Three people to a table felt cramped, but somehow that closeness created a sense of camaraderie among the first and second years. We were all novices, navigating the treacherous waters of our chosen paths together, albeit in a cramped bubble.
As the instructor entered the room—a tall figure draped in flowing robes that seemed to absorb the dim light—I couldn’t help but feel the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach again. The history lessons held the weight of our academy’s legacy, each tale steeped in blood and betrayal. there was always one story bloodier than the last it seemed
I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on anything other than my own turmoil. A glimmer of movement caught my eye, a flash of color from a nearby table, where a couple of students adorned in bright fabrics giggled and shared whispers. these had to be the historian acolytes, basically their job was to record the fights assignments and missions and document them. in order for them to graduate they had to be able to write the entire history one one assassin of master rank. their job was to record my deeds in this life and for me...well it felt a little invasive.
Professor Wornstrum began the class by tapping his hand against the podium at the front of the room. "Ah yes. Now that we are all gathered and seated, I would like to say it is a beautiful day outside these walls, and I do hope you get the chance to enjoy this day as well. Today, we will be covering a dark history that I know not all of us are comfortable with—the conquering of Telmythrin.” My heart felt like it was going to stop. Did he just say...?
I stood up, glaring at him. "Really? I am here so we must teach about my parents’ tyranny? Is this how all five years are going to commence?"
Professor Wornstrum's eyes narrowed over his round spectacles. "Sit down, apprentice! I have not finished speaking, nor were you given permission to do so.”
An uncomfortable murmur rippled through the classroom, and I could feel the stares of my classmates boring into me. "can you beleive her audacity" a girl said from across the room " well she is a darksbane maybe she thinks she can do whatever she wants to" another boy stated
witbhout another word i sank in to my chair seething with rage. Professor Wornstrum resumed, his voice steady and authoritative. “The history of Telmythrin is one that shaped our current reality. The scars left by those who conquered it are not easily forgotten. It is crucial that we learn from their practices and—”
“Learn from tyranny?” I interrupted again, unable to contain myself. “Or glorify it?”
“Enough!” he snapped. “You are here to understand the full scope of our history, whether it be dark or light. It is your duty as a student and as an apprentice in the arts of shadow to learn the good the bad and the ugly i am sorry if it upsets you to hear of your parents heroism but it is a part of our history we must acknowledge.”
Rage boiled up inside me, and before I could stop myself, I slammed my hands on the table, standing up so quickly that my chair flew backward, crashing into the table behind me. "Heroism!" I laughed maniacally, my icy blue eyes glaring down at him. "Is that what you call slaughtering thousands of innocent people and children?"
"Enough!" Professor Wornstrum barked, stepping out from behind the podium. "Not another word, Orin, or so help me—" His voice fell abruptly as he realized what he just said. He called me by my father's name. Did he also teach my dad? Was I more like him than I anticipated?
The air felt charged with tension. “Am I supposed to just accept that? To follow in his footsteps like a mindless puppet?” I spat, my frustration boiling over. Memories of my father’s dark exploits flashed in my mind—power, violence, and bloodshed.
My gaze bore into him, challenging him with every breath I took. He couldn't be more than his forties, yet the weight of his experience seemed to add years to his face. Professor Wornstrum’s expression faltered, a softer look coming across his features. "I am sorry, Kirishina... if you knew... it doesn't matter."
He turned away and headed back to his podium, leaving my mind racing. he cleared his throat. "The battle of Telmytherin lasted three days and three nights. Can anyone tell me why it took so long for Nyreah Darksbane to take the city, even upon dragons' back?" he asked the class, as if oblivious to the storm brewing in my chest.
I sat back in my chair, stunned. He knew my dad. What did he know? Was he his teacher or his friend? The questions swirled in my head like a tempest, competing with the memories I barely understood. The battlefield, the dragons, the death... I could feel the whispers of my classmates around me, their focus on Wornstrum.
I had to ask the professor for the answers. For now, I would simply respond to the questions posed. Nobody raised their hand, and some even looked bewildered by the knowledge that it took my mother so long to conquer Telmythrin. I rolled my eyes and raised my voice above the whispers.
"Because Telmytherin's architecture is built from stone, only the peasant communities used wood and straw for their structures. So my mother burned their crops to starve them out in case it took longer. But the fire spread to the lower districts, which was not her intention according to the history books. She attempted to siege their province, but instead… she became a conqueror."
Wornstrum's eyes flickered with emotions as he nodded. "That is correct. They designed their communities to withstand a war if it came to them."
The classroom's atmosphere shifted as my words hung in the air, the weight of history wrapping around us like a thick fog. I could feel the tension in the room as everyone processed the implications of what I had just said. it was about the devastating choices made along the way.
“Orin Darksbane was not possessed,” the professor reiterated, his voice steady as he scanned the room. Ryan, practically vibrating in his seat, couldn’t contain himself any longer. He shot his hand up higher, eager to share whatever insight he had.
“His abilities came from his bloodline! Darksbane assassins have this intrinsic bond with shadows and enhanced agility as well as an ancient and sacred bond with the demons of hell,” he blurted out, his enthusiasm palpable.
I rolled my eyes again, but this time it was less about Ryan and more about the whole sacred bond thin. The weight of the name Darksbane was heavy, and here we were, dissecting the dark history of a family known for chaos and bloodshed. I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on Ryan’s answers rather than my own self depricating thoughts.
“Exactly,” the professor nodded, giving Ryan a satisfied smile. “Orin had the agility to evade attacks deftly, combined with an uncanny ability to manipulate shadow energy for stealth. these things combined with his demons abilities made him formidable—both respected and feared among his peers.”
A murmured discussion swept through the room, and I felt that familiar knot tighten in my stomach. I didn’t want to think about the powers of shadow manipulation or demon abilities achron and my father where terrifying not formidable.
“Can anyone tell me what led to his downfall?” the professor continued, bringing the conversation back on track.
I shot a sideways glance at the girl with the blond ponytail. She had her hand raised timidly again, clearly eager to answer. “He… he turned against his own family, didn’t he?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper but ringing clear in the silence that followed.
“Precisely,” the professor confirmed, his gaze steady on her. “ in a blind rage he did something he swore he would never do and that was to kill a child, he fought his own demon bond and broke the bond between him and.." he stammered as if searching for an answer to the name of the demon within my father. "achron" i said firmly to assist " yes yes, achron. after severing this sacred bond he granted mercy to the remaining familys and children"
Ryan, still buzzing with energy, redirected the conversation, “But couldn’t an assassin tap into that same power? I mean, if we’re trained right, we could harness those abilities too!”
The professor nodded in agreement. “Yes, and no if you’re diligent and smart about your training, it’s possible to unlock your innate potential, the demon bond they hold is not an ability someone is just granted through experience or training, kiri would you elaborate?" he ased extending his hand in my direction
I nodded and stood, feeling Of course, he wanted this knowledge; the ancient ritual was a secret in my family. “There is an ancient ritual that was performed—oh, I don’t know, four hundred years ago, perhaps,” I began, treading carefully. “A blood pact was made using human blood and that of demons. The human who requested it signed away his life force, and his son inherited the demons’ abilities. We are not possessed, but rather, we are their hosts and vessels. They can take control whenever they deem it necessary, I suppose, but they are bound to respect our wishes. In return, we give them our souls upon our deaths.”
A hush fell over the room, and I could feel the weight of my words settle like a shroud. “It is a forbidden ritual, not just because of the blood involved, but because it takes six days, six hours, and six minutes to complete. Forgive me, but I've not acquired knowledge of the rest,” I concluded, glancing around to gauge their reactions.
Wornstrum smiled gently, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “Yes, they never passed the knowledge down, just the treaty, which is currently in our great master Tynon Darksbane’s possession,” he added as I sat down, my heart racing at the implications.
I could feel Abraxes’ annoyance through our bond, his presence flooding my thoughts. “Kiri, telling anyone even that much was reckless. You know the whole ritual; you’ve been taught it since you were a child,” he chastised, his voice resonating in my mind.
I smirked, responding telepathically, “I know. But I cannot divulge those secrets. Those are ancient family secrets, and in the end, I am a Darksbane. Loyalty means everything.” It was a vow etched in my very being, I dared not betray the trust of those who came before me.
A boy in the back squeaked at the realization of what I said. "So, wait, the guy killed himself?"
There it was. I smiled at him and nodded. "That is the price for a bloodline tied to demons. They used his blood and the treaty mixed with the blood of the demon who didn’t die. Because, of course, demons are immortal. But he knew the cost and deceived the assassin."
i gave him a smile and turned away to stare back to the front of the classroom meeting the waiting gaze or wornsworth, his eyes seemed to gaze in to mine searching for amswers but also filled with questions.. it made me wonder if he himself had the same questions i did in a sense..
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