Chapter 12

Cameron watched Jaleya’s dark violet eyes as she contemplated the game board between them. She had her chin resting on her propped-up knee, her thick black hair cascading down, obscuring her face that so resembled their mother’s.

His sister reached out slowly, gaze darting up to him for a moment before she picked up her Eswie piece, moving it to the left with a hesitant flutter in her fingers as she left it in its new place.

He kept his face blank until she had fully finished her turn, her arms returning to wrap around her leg. He then moved his Sarada to ambush her piece, unable to keep the small smirk as she sent him a glare.

“Why do you always do that?” She muttered. “You know they’re my favorite, and you target them first..”

Cameron let out a short laugh at her musings. “They’re weak,” he defended himself. “Almost everything destroys them, why do you like them so much?”

She pouted for a moment, looking younger than her fourteen years. “They’re pretty,” she admitted after a moment.

“You can’t win a game with pretty,” he pointed out.

“Why not?” Jaleya folded her arms.

“That’s not how the game works.”

“Well, I don’t think it should.”

“Just play, it’s your turn,” Cameron snorted at his sister’s scrunched-up face as she reached blindly and carelessly moved a Dasdae toward the mountains, landing on a chance spot. He wordlessly reached for the bag containing the outside threats, handing it to her to watch for what she pulled out.

A rockslide, level four danger, went to kill her level three Dasdae, how disappointing.

He sighed, moving one of his Yaldu pieces toward the river. He looked at his sister, watching her move one of her own Yaldu in return.

This was their weekly routine, playing Konstaetha as the rest of the academy woke up. It was his time with his only family, before he had any responsibilities to take care of, and in the short time that she was herself again.

He silently moved his Yaldu into the river, only one space rather than the given three.

“I heard Dieru saying there are new people,” Jaleya’s violet eyes met his.

Cameron stuttered in his move back to his relaxed seat, watching her face carefully as he searched for a safe answer. “Yes,” he gave her a small smile. “They were picked up yesterday.”

“Have you met them?” She quickly moved an Aesa to the left side of the board.

“A couple,” he said vaguely, aware of the line they were approaching.

“What are they like? What abilities are they?” Jaleya’s gaze sparked with curiosity.

“I only met two briefly,” he half-lied. “One is a Raoa,” a fire user, a tempered one as well. “The other is an Eswie,” a water user that seemed rather reserved, he thought.

“Oh,” she chirped. “There’s four, aren’t there?”

“Yes, I believe so,” Cameron moved his Yaldu into another space. His jaw was tense; he hoped she couldn’t see it.

“How old are they? Are they another family?”

He could see how excited she was about the idea. Even with her problems with other people, she was good with children. “No,” he said carefully. “Most of them are your age, I think.”

She casually moved her Aesa again, paying more attention to the conversation than the game now. “That’s nice,” her voice had dropped some of its earlier enthusiasm. “Who brought them in?”

Cameron felt his heart freeze. He hoped it wasn’t showing on his face, he hoped he had kept his limbs relaxed enough for her not to notice.

Jaleya’s observant gaze met his, her curiosity dropping to realization as soon as their eye contact clicked. Her face dropped, her body almost curling into itself in an instant.

He knew she was gone, his sister back to the shell she had turned into after their mother’s death.

“I see,” her voice was weak, violet eyes staring into the unknown as her memories overtook her mind.

Cameron didn’t have to be a telepath to know what she was seeing. Jacob being back meant a connection to that night was closer than she wanted.

Jaleya didn’t have the control he had, she was too young, and had been destroyed when she felt their mother die. She had been upstairs, she had been there when their mother’s throat had been slashed. She had felt the moment their mother had been practically gutted.

She had once been on their team, eager to learn and not ready for the tole that their ‘gift’ brought. She had followed his example, not accounting for how he had been broken at six years old.

Cameron had felt it too when he walked into their home, but he was able to control the pain and muffle the overwhelming sense of death that was connected to his soul. But Jaleya was too vulnerable, and she was too close. When he lost his mother, he also knew that he had lost most of his sister, but for the glimpses he had of her again.

There had always been a sense of death around Jacob since his father had him hunting down daemons since he was young, but Cameron had noticed how it had grown much stronger in the time before he had left. It wasn’t as strong as it was then, but he had felt it yesterday too.

He cared about Jacob in the sense that they had worked together for years, and he was the younger brother of one of his good friends. He was a good friend, but he was always a little difficult for him to be around. For Jaleya, he was impossible to be around.

Now, she sat with her head bowed, eyes unfocused.

He had seen the aftermath of what had happened, the stains in their home. She had been the one to find her, and it had been Ryan who had stumbled upon her clinging onto their mother’s body at fourteen years old.

He called her name with little avail, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He should have changed the topic, but he couldn’t change that now.

He reached over the game board to grip her hand in support, his heart warming at the gentle pressure she returned. It hurt to stand and move to the door of her solitary room, Allison meeting him on the other side with a sad smile.

“She’s been doing better,” the young woman reminded him.

Cameron shot her a look that he knew showed what his thoughts were.

Allison’s golden eyes held no judgment, her sad smile revealing her doubt.

“Slowly, but surely,” Cameron swallowed. “Maybe one day we’ll finish a game.”

____________________________

Jacob sat on his cot with his legs crossed underneath him. He had awoken in the early hours of the morning to find Elaine staring unseeingly ahead, her head propped on her hand as she struggled to stay awake. It had been a whispered struggle to get her to return to the observance, there had been so much he had wanted to say to her, and he knew that she had questions that she had only been too exhausted to ask.

He had laid awake after she had left, his gaze often wandering to the pair on the other side of the room. Seniar was sitting, bent in half with his head on his folded arms that rested on the edge of the cot. The man had stirred twice but hadn’t woken, the prominent bags under his eyes suggesting that he needed the sleep.

Jacob had watched the sunrise from his cot, watching the sky turn from black to navy, and then to the most beautiful shade of golden orange. Faint streaks of pink and lavender were still visible against the pale blue, the distant songs of birds in the morning light somehow being the clearest reminder that he had returned home.

Merul, the healer that had watched them overnight, had checked on him a few times in between the final treatments given to Anna. Now the man was glued to the counter in the corner, preparing for the morning team to come in at any moment. Jacob watched as he took note of the inventory, sorting out each supply carefully before marking it down.

Despite everything, his mind had remained relatively calm, the almost solitude of the night a comfort in the undesirable sense of trepidation in his gut. It was only a matter of time before his anticipation would be fulfilled, and there was nothing he could do to change that, and as the sun rose further from the horizon, that time grew thinner.

He looked over to Anna again, a beam of sunlight coming through the window and setting her golden hair aflame. He couldn’t see her face from his angle, but the soft rise and fall of the blankets covering her gave him some relief. He didn’t know what had happened to her, and he was too unsure to ask Merul. He couldn’t shake the look of fear and disbelief she had given him in the middle of the battle and knowing that she did get injured sent a wave of guilt through him.

He wondered how long it would take for the rest of the academy to learn of their presence. He knew that his father would have told the council, and his team was either told, or figured out her identity. Elaine had seemed to understand at least, but she must have also witnessed Seniar’s arrival. He trusted his team, and a majority of the council was capable of enough sense to not rush into judgment. What concerned him was that he couldn’t say the same for the rest of the academy.

A faint sound awoke him from his musings, leaving him frozen to listen. Slowly, the distinct pattern of heavy footsteps echoed in the front of the council building, growing closer. They were familiar, awfully familiar, and as they continued down the hall and toward the doors of the center, Jacob could feel his heart tightening in his chest.

His mind was at war at the halt of the man in the corridor, just outside. Part of him wanted to run, to disappear as if he had never returned, but he knew he couldn’t. It was too late and there was nowhere to go.

His clock had run out.

The door opened, revealing the large figure looming on the other side. Sharp bronze eyes set on him at once, shadowed by his heavy brow line. The headmaster’s grayed-brown hair was combed away from his face, revealing the sharp curve of his features while he scowled in contemplation at his son. He stepped into the room, folding his hands behind his back as the door swung to a close behind him. A passing glance could pass the man off as calm, but the tense stance of his broad shoulders told a story of silent fury. He wore his council robes of blue and tan, yet Jacob could envision the consuming black of his battle armor instead.

The gold in his father’s eyes sparked and Jacob could feel the encroaching perspective on the wall of his mind. He tightened his jaw, holding his boundaries while trying to keep his being free from any signal of his true emotion. “Father,” he addressed plainly, unable to keep the small amount of gravel to his voice.

“Jesan,” His true name was a cold curse upon his father’s lips; yet spoken as if it was not. “I’m glad to see you’re recovering from your injuries.” The headmaster’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he cast his gaze down before rising to meet his again.

Jacob was silent, watching the carefully constructed mask of his father.

Maishear looked across the room to the figures of Anna and Seniar, a flare of anger visible for a split second before it was snuffed out. “I would like to speak with you if you’re feeling up to it.”

The request was no such thing, and the building pressure of his father’s prying within the confines of his mind spoke louder than anything he could say. “I will come when I’m fully healed,” Jacob told him, twisting his face in a convincing act of pain as he shifted himself on the cot. “I feel a bit disoriented right now,” he raised his fingertips to his brow, running them lightly across his temple.

His father’s eyes flashed again, the corner of his mouth jumping in the way that stirred Jacob’s insides. “You’ve been fully healed,” his tone was that of an exasperated dad, chiding. “So, come along.”

He cursed internally, withholding the urge to glance at Merul who had clearly been the one to reveal the truth to the headmaster. He swung his legs free of the cot, standing slowly as his legs were truly unsteady; though if he stumbled, he wouldn’t say if it was for a convincing show or not. “Can I change first?” He played along, gesturing to the healing center’s spare clothing that was far from his size, the shirt falling halfway to his knees, designed for one that was much larger and more vertically blessed than he.

His father looked him up and down, the internal debate ending quickly with a curt nod. “I expect you to be in my office in ten minutes,” he raised his eyebrows, holding eye contact for an extra second before turning away.

The room was a curse to be in, the muffled songs of the birds were still heard through the windowpanes while his father made his retreat only in distance. It was only a beat of stillness before Merul moved to grab a pile of clothes Jacob recognized as his own. “Ryan dropped these off for when you woke,” the man’s words held no acknowledgment of the interaction he had just witnessed, his silvery eyes clear as he offered them to him.

Jacob’s stomach twisted, taking them with only a nod of gratitude before slipping behind a privacy screen in the corner just left of the door his father had just gone through. It wasn’t long before he had gotten rid of the healing center's black shirt and awkward shorts, replaced by a burnt orange tee and black jeans. He noted how they had lost the scent of his laundry detergent sitting untouched for as long as they had.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, grease had begun to gather around the roots and left an uncomfortable sensation on his fingers. He would need to wash when he returned to the observance, he had neglected that need for too long.

He found his boots at the base of the cot he had been laying on, putting them on in a manner that couldn’t exactly be described as quickly. He hid his dreading sigh with his rise back to his feet, taking a step forward before stopping.

He looked back to the far side of the room at the girl laying peacefully in his moment of trial. He could see her face, just as it was before her injuries except for a whitened scar on her temple above her right eyebrow. She was so innocent of everything he knew. He stayed there only for a second before continuing, not missing the Merul’s curiosity before following in his father’s footsteps through the door and out of the healing center.

Jacob made his way down the hall he had traveled almost a hundred times before, though admittedly, this was probably the earliest he had been in with the halls bare of anyone beyond himself and the lingering presence of his father. The walls opened around him as he reached the front of the building, light streaming down onto him from the large half-moon window placed above the entrance.

His head spun with his movement as he turned to ascend the staircase to the upper levels, each step overly loud for the quiet building. As he reached the second floor, he felt the urge to pause but continued upward to the third and final floor. Memories of his prior journeys up to his father’s office flashed through his mind as he hit each step, each had its own story, none of which led him to leave in comfort.

The large russet doors of his father’s office were the same as they had always been, yet now loomed a different sort of anticipation for what was about to happen. Without further hesitation, he opened them, piercing bronze eyes meeting his as soon as he stepped through the frame. The room was sparsely decorated, with only two chairs and a desk that faced the door. The morning sun set the dark wooden paneling alight with a russet sheen, contrasting the dark brown floorboards.

“So glad to see you’ve recovered from your injuries,” the cold sneer struck him from behind the large, dark desk that loomed at the center of the room. His father’s broad figure was tense, his bronze eyes sharp and cold.

Jacob stepped forward, stopping directly before him, close enough so he was looking down at his father. He could feel the pull at his own mind, the marker of his father testing the strength of the walls he had spent years building. He forced his face to remain neutral, despite the attempted intrusion.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” The headmaster’s voice was dangerously low, each syllable a hiss through his gritted teeth.

Jacob was painfully aware of the sword his father carried at his side as his facade of patience slipped. “Somewhat,” he responded, keeping his mind blank in case his father was able to break through his defense.

His father leaned forward in his chair, lacing his fingers together in an eerily smooth manner. “Do you know what the humans are saying?”

“I can only imagine,” his heart was pounding so hard, he wondered if his father could hear it.

“You could very well have just exposed our existence,” his father’s knuckles turned white as they gripped each other, though his angular face remained stoic. “This time, I can only do so much to control the narrative, do to your public demonstration.”

Jacob held back a wince. He knew exactly how bad this could be, and how bad it already was.

“You and the rest of your team are wanted by human authorities,” it wasn’t a surprise, considering, but it still sent a nail through his heart. “Kidnapping, assault, trespassing, and murder.”

“Murder?” Jacob’s blood ran cold, and he sucked in a shaking breath. He fisted his hands, trying, but failing to keep his composure.

His father was hardly affected. “The humans found a body of a student within the school. Security footage places you as the last to be with him.”

Asher. He knew it had to have been him, but it made no sense. Something had been deadly wrong, but he had been too distracted to even notice the extent that something could have happened right under his nose. “Me,” he breathed instead.

“Due to this warrant,” his father continued. “You are restricted to the grounds until further notice. This is in addition to you ignoring the order to return, as well as taking this mission at all. You not only put those children in your care at risk, but you have also placed every one of us in danger. There is only so much I can do to cool this fire. In leaving, you also disregarded the responsibilities you hold here.”

Didn’t he know it. Jacob swallowed, subdued a flinch at every point. His mind wandered to Asher, nausea building in his gut as he imagined the boy crumpled on the floor, lifeless. He had welcomed Jacob with little question, showing him compassion from the moment he had sat down beside him on his first day there. Whatever had happened to him, he didn’t deserve it.

“You also have brought back that thing with you,” his father’s voice twisted into disgust, pulling him back to the present.

“The thing,” Jacob repeated, staring at him for a moment. “You mean Anna?” He raised an eyebrow, noticing the candle of anger that was lit at his father’s phrasing.

“You dared to wait to disclose her identity,” the headmaster’s face had darkened even further. “It’s responsible for the destruction of our homeland, and does not belong in our sanctuary.”

“I reported her identity as soon as I confirmed it,” he bit out. “Even though I really didn’t want to. What else was I supposed to do, Father, leave her out there to die?”

“Much of the council is already in support of her disposal,” his father narrowed his eyes, a warning flashing in them. “It’s already proven herself to be dangerous, and I am not the only one who does not want to welcome that mutant.”

Jacob was aware of his nails biting into his palms, his jaw protesting at how tight he had pulled it. “She has done nothing to prove anything,” he insisted. “She’s untrained and did no different than anyone else without control of their abilities. Might I remind you that she is also younger than I am, and I was too young to do anything during the attack? I assure you, she is not this dangerous being you make her out to be.”

His father said nothing but simply observed him for a moment. It sent chills down Jacob’s body like his father was looking straight into his mind, but the shield was still intact.

“Then, until a decision is made,” the headmaster continued on, his anger fading away to a calculated interest that alarmed him even further. “You are to be responsible for its care. It is to remain with your observance, and you will look after its needs and if you so deem necessary, its training.”

Jacob held back a remark on his father’s insistence on treating Anna as though she were some type of pet or object, rather than the girl she was. At least, this way, he could keep looking after her. He could confirm her well-being and progress for himself. “Fine,” he agreed.

“The others will begin their studies as soon as they settle in,” he pressed on. “And as for the last child, your team is to make up for their failure and return to retrieve him by sundown tomorrow.

Jacob blinked. Who had been left behind? Ben and Rachel had been with him, he had seen them with Ryan and Eleanor. Oh. That made sense. “I will let them know,” he bowed his head. “I did want to mention,” he blurted. “I noticed something strange with the Hytroxae that you should be aware of.”

His father raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to go on.

“It wasn’t camouflaged, but rather presented as a student.” Not like a Hytroxae at all, but very like a potential shapeshifter. If that was the case, their problems were even greater than if it had been a random daemon attack.

“I see,” his father seemed to follow his thoughts exactly. “I will inform Kesritae of your findings.”

Jacob nodded, and he was suddenly aware of how many paces it would take for him to leave his father’s office. He was ready for this conversation to end before it could go any further.

“Of course, now that you’ve returned, you will resume your responsibilities immediately.”

Jacob froze but recovered quickly. “Of course,” he muttered. “I have a lot to catch up on with my team. I’m afraid all other responsibilities have to wait until I’ve mended my mistakes. I’m sure you understand, Father.” The candle of fury had grown into a flame, but he had to keep it hidden.

The headmaster’s narrowed gaze told him that his father may have understood, but didn’t care. Not unexpected, but enraging. “You know my expectations,” his voice was laced with a warning.

“I do,” Jacob acknowledged, a hint of his anger slipping into his words.

“And you know what will happen if you disobey my orders again.”

Any remaining warmth that may have been in Jacob’s body was now gone as he met his father’s unfeeling eyes. “I understand,” his own golden gaze flashed with anger. “But I hope you understand that I will fight your decisions that hold no merit,” he stated, ignoring the fear that arose in his chest at the declaration.

His father didn’t move, but something changed deep within his eyes.

Jacob sucked in a breath, bowing his head to mark the end of their conversation. He turned to leave, his pulse pounding in his ears, feet heavy. He almost didn’t believe what he had just done.

“I’m sure you will,” his father’s dismissive retort cut into him one last time as he reached for the door. It was all Jacob could do to hold in his temper just long enough to keep himself from slamming the door behind him as he fled the office, leaving his father behind.