Chapter Twenty-One #2
“Hey!” Rival growls, “That was uncalled for, and you know it. There are plenty of things in our own past that we are not comfortable with sharing with Farren yet. Forcing her to do so would not help matters and would build even more tension between you two and possibly us. We can’t afford that right now,” Storm glowers at his words and clenches his hands by his sides but keeps his mouth shut under the dark stares he’s receiving from everyone in the room.
Rival turns his attention to me, “Farren, is your connection to the Shadowlands going to put any of us in danger?”
“No, and if it were, I would’ve told you my connection with it no matter how uncomfortable it was,” I reply firmly.
Rival nods and looks back at Storm as if to say, see, I told you. Somehow Storm’s face darkens even further, and if looks could kill, I’d most likely be dead.
“Can we refuse?” Loki asks and then adds, “Even with Farren’s connection which I’m certain the Headmaster doesn’t know about, it is still a massive risk, especially since we know he’s out to get her.”
Magnus sighs heavily, “This is the problem. If you don’t go, he has made it perfectly clear that he will send another team.
You are the best team currently in residence at the academy.
Whereas you all have a chance of being successful or, at the very least, surviving, it’s pretty much a certainty that any other team would fail and lose their lives.
Yes, you all get taught the same, but it’s more than obvious that some people take it more seriously than others.
You all also have a background and skills, which means you are far more qualified to do this job than anyone else.
I can guarantee that if you refuse, he will pick the least qualified team so that when they inevitably die, he can put the blame on you. ”
“Well fuck, I guess we don’t have a choice then,” Mayhem sighs heavily.
“I’m not having another team's deaths on my conscience,” Kill adds, his horns sparking.
“When do we get the files?” Storm asks, his voice sullen with a note of anger, and I have a feeling that he’s going to be an absolute arse for the rest of the day.
“I will make sure that you get them by this evening. I have no idea what this job entails and what it could entail, with it being in the Shadowlands. We usually leave them to police their own,” Magnus frowns and then stands up, draining his cup, “You better all get to class. If I find out anything else, I’ll let you know. ”
“Thanks,” I reply.
We all follow him out of the door to get to our first class on time which is the one focused on different supernaturals, their abilities, weaknesses, and everything in between.
I have to say that now the classes are focused just on the games and everything they entail.
I’m finding them a lot more interesting.
The intensity the teachers are giving off is helping those students who have so far slacked in their classes pay more attention and take it seriously.
Storm has been on at me all fucking day, with little digs, sarcastic comments, and generally being an arse.
I’m giving as good as I get, but it’s starting to wear fucking thin now, and I’m kind of hoping that we get put against each other in sparring because I think we both fucking need it.
As we walk to combat and weapons, we get stuck behind a small group who, just from looking at them and watching how they look down on everyone around them, I can tell are the rich fuckers.
“Daddy’s going to get me out of it. He said he wouldn’t stand for me to be fighting in some games for the realms,” one of the girls announces proudly and flicks her hair over her shoulder. I roll my eyes.
“This is a combat school, surely he expected this at some point? Anyway, there is no getting out of it,” one of the guy's replies, not looking too bothered at the prospect.
The rest of them scoff at him as if he’s said something truly stupid, and money is enough to go up against an ancient realm that has the ability to do with us what she pleases.
I’m so amused by the conversation that I don’t realise we’re late, and when I get into the changing rooms, it’s to find them empty.
I’m also suddenly aware that someone has followed me into the room.
I spin on my heel, ready to defend myself and instantly relax when I see it’s Storm, I cross my arms over my chest leaning back against my locker and tapping my foot because I know it’ll piss him off.
“Go on then, get on with verbal barbs you want to throw at me now. We’re late,” I demand, and I get slightly nervous when he smirks, anger flashing in his eyes as he stalks towards me.
Now logically, I know that he would never truly hurt me.
Still, as he stalks towards me, his wings flick out behind him, making an appearance for the first time since the level one fight and, with his aggressive stance, it starts to remind me of an entirely different demon.
He places both hands on either side of my head, and that, coupled with his wings, starts to trigger a memory from the past one that I’d rather forget and the focus of most of my nightmares.
He’s so much bigger than I am, and thanks to the memories pushing their way forward, I feel completely helpless against him, even though logically, I know I’m not. I feel like I did back then.
The panic attack hits me hard and fast, spearing me with its claws and relentlessly dragging me down into that horrific memory, back to that place of hurt, torment, helplessness, and unimaginable pain.
Unable to stop it, I scream at the top of my lungs, and I’m vaguely aware of Storm staring at me in shock as tears start to stream down my face.
He’s talking to me, his mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him, I can’t breathe, and I’m in another time and place entirely.
A small part of me is aware of him, but most of me is stuck in the torment.
He moves his arm by my head, and I flinch hard, dropping to the floor in a bid to escape what I know happens next. I bury my head in my knees, wrap my arms around them and start rocking back and forth.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I beg, “please, no.” Sobs are clawing their way from my too tight chest, and I couldn’t control any of it if I fucking wanted to. I have well and truly been triggered.
Burying my head may not have been the best idea because now that I’m completely in the dark, the memories seem to gain more purchase.
I find myself sitting on the dusty red floor as a grotesque demon towers over me.
None of them seem to wear clothes, at least not in this dungeon, but this one is worse.
He gets off on my terror, as evidenced by his hard dick.
I will not let myself be abused by him like I’ve seen him do to the others.
I know he’s strong enough to take what he so clearly wants from me, but for some reason, he doesn’t.
I’m hoping it's an order, and he just enjoys my prolonged terror, but I can’t bank on that.
I’ m getting tired, my strength is starting to wane, and I know this time it’s going to take all I have to fight him off.
He pulls me up off the floor by my hair and shakes me, plunging his claws into my stomach and grinning at my scream as he lifts his bloody claws to his mouth and licks them clean, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.
Whilst he’s distracted, I try to summon my magic, willing a spark or something to come to my aid, somehow Father has stopped my magic from manifesting, he called it a training exercise, and I highly doubt he expected me to end up here after all I’m his best assassin.
Done with his snack, the demon turns his attention back to me. I strike out, grateful for my enhanced strength. He grins, grabs my arm and snaps it like a twig.
I scream.