Young Writers Society

“Are you insane?” Jepret hissed. “What did I just tell you? My lord, that guy was right! You really are the dumbest person I know.”

“At least he won’t bother you anymore afterward,” Prajuru replied. The lunch bell had rung, and they were on their way to the great hall. Jepret moved in quick, indignant jerks, fuming as Prajuru hurried along beside her.

“Picking fights with random students on your first day!” she cried, voice high-pitched with exasperation. “You dumbass, you’re going to get yourself expelled!”

“Who’s getting expelled?”

The siblings turned around as Cyprus jogged toward them.

“Who is this?” Jepret demanded.

“This is Cyprus,” Prajuru explained. “He’s in my Health class.”

“Nice to meet you!” he smiled, holding out a hand for Jepret to shake. “You must be Prajuru’s sister!”

“...yes, I am. He told you about me?” she cast her brother an odd glance, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, he mentioned you during class.”

“I invited him to sit with us for lunch,” Prajuru explained, giving Jepret a wary look.

“I see,” she said, eyes narrow.

“If that’s all right with you, of course,” Cyprus added, smile wavering.

“Yes, it’s fine. My brother will appreciate it very much,” she gave Prajuru a pointed glare.

“Am I…interrupting something important? Because if I am, I can go…”

“No!” Prajuru said quickly. Cyprus gave him an odd look, and Prajuru’s ears flushed red. “Your, uh, company would be greatly appreciated.”

“Um…okay. I’ll stay then.”

Jepret made a soft hmph sound, turning on her heel and continuing down the hallway. Cyprus shot Prajuru an odd look.

“She’s mad because of a deal I made,” he explained.

“What did you do?” Cyprus asked as the two of them started after her. “Who’d you make a deal with?”

“Some redheaded kid in my Biology class. He was making fun of her, so I told him I’d meet him behind the school at nine.”

“You mean the huge ogre-looking guy with the spiky hair?” Cyprus asked. Prajuru nodded. “Oh no, you shouldn’t pick fights with him! He’s the headmistress’ son!”

“Headmistress Aturan?”

“Yes, her! She’s sending her son Berarti here for his final graduation. She’ll smash your head in if she finds out you beat up her kid!”

“Well, it seems like he needs to be put in his place,” Prajuru replied. “I can’t just let him keep strutting around like he owns the school, can I?”

“Well, he almost does,” Cyprus muttered. “And you’d do well not to get expelled. This is the only place in the country that’ll take in dischargees. You leave here, you’re never finishing your education.”

Prajuru sighed. “Fine. I’ll leave him alone, then.”

The great hall was a vast room with a vaulted ceiling that stretched impossibly high. Long mahogany tables filled the place from end to end, packed full of fragrant food. Soups, stews, sandwiches, curries, pudding–everything you could ever imagine arranged splendidly on the shiny wood. Prajuru paused in the entryway, sucking in a long, slow breath as he took in the scene.

“How is there so much of it? I don’t think I’ve seen all this food in my entire life.”

“They’ve gotta feed thousands of students,” Cyprus replied mistily. “I wonder how they manage to prepare it all…”

“Are you two gonna stand there gawking or can we sit down?” Jepret asked harshly. The boys followed her to the nearest table, sliding onto the bench in front of a steaming bowl of chicken curry.

“She’s not always like this, is she?” Cyprus whispered, eyeing the girl warily.

“No, it’s only when she gets mad,” Prajuru replied, pulling a plate of rolls toward him. “Best to just wait for her to calm down.”

“Okay…”

The trio sat in silence for a while, the activity of the great hall buzzing cheerfully around them. Prajuru ladled some curry into a bowl as the quiet stretched taut.

“So, um, how are you two liking the school so far?” Cyprus asked finally. “Are you enjoying your classes?”

Jepret grunted.

“They’re fine,” Prajuru replied. “Health and Biology–granted, we haven’t really gotten started on anything yet. It is the first day of school, after all. How was Algebra?”

“Full of numbers and symbols. Whoever decided to add letters to math was a madman.” Cyprus muttered, taking a tentative sip of his steaming soup.

“Heh. I take it you’re not very good at that kind of stuff, either.”

“No, I prefer the art classes. Painting and sculpting–those are fun.”

Prajuru’s ears perked up. “You make sculptures?”

Cyprus smiled sheepishly. “A bit. None of them are very good, though.”

“What kind of things do you make? Like, what’s your subject matter?” Prajuru pushed.

“Waves are really fun. And trees and stuff–organic things, y’know? I usually make them into little scenes that I paint. There’s a whole shelf full of them in my dorm.”

“That sounds so cool!”

Cyprus brightened. “Thanks! I can show them to you sometime, if you like.”

“That sounds great! What time?”

Suddenly, Jepret stood up. “Sorry to interrupt your little bonding session, but the bell just rang. We need to get to class.”

“Okay,” Prajuru muttered. He turned back to Cyprus. “I’ve gotta finish unpacking tonight, so maybe tomorrow? After school?”

“Sounds great!” Cyprus’ eyes sparkled. “I’m in room 24. See you then!”

The trio sat in silence for a while, the activity of the great hall buzzing cheerfully around them. Prajuru ladled some curry into a bowl as the quiet stretched taut.

“So, um, how are you two liking the school so far?” Cyprus asked finally. “Are you enjoying your classes?”

Jepret grunted.

“They’re fine,” Prajuru replied. “Health and Biology–granted, we haven’t really gotten started on anything yet. It is the first day of school, after all. How was Algebra?”

“Full of numbers and symbols. Whoever decided to add letters to math was a madman.” Cyprus muttered, taking a tentative sip of his steaming soup.

“Heh. I take it you’re not very good at that kind of stuff, either.”

“No, I prefer the art classes. Painting and sculpting–those are fun.”

Prajuru’s ears perked up. “You make sculptures?”

Cyprus smiled sheepishly. “A bit. None of them are very good, though.”

“What kind of things do you make? Like, what’s your subject matter?” Prajuru pushed.

“Waves are really fun. And trees and stuff–organic things, y’know? I usually make them into little scenes that I paint. There’s a whole shelf full of them in my dorm.”

“That sounds so cool!”

Cyprus brightened. “Thanks! I can show them to you sometime, if you like.”

“That sounds great! What time?”

Suddenly, Jepret stood up. “Sorry to interrupt your little bonding session, but the bell just rang. We need to get to class.”

“Okay,” Prajuru muttered. He turned back to Cyprus. “I’ve gotta finish unpacking tonight, so maybe tomorrow? After school?”

“Sounds great!” Cyprus’ eyes sparkled. “I’m in room 24. See you then!”

Prajuru did not, in fact, spend the night unpacking. Everything stayed in his bag until 9 o’clock rolled around, and he began to gather his things.

Should I really be doing this? He wondered as he pulled a jacket over his head. It was a deep navy blue, perfect for going undetected in the dark. Cyprus and Jepret don’t want me to…but I can’t let Berarti continue. Somebody has to take him down a peg.

Pulling the hood over his head, Prajuru stepped toward the door. But just as he was about to lay his hand on the knob, a thought struck him.

You can never be too careful, he thought, sliding a small dagger out of the lining of his satchel. He slipped it into his pocket before finally heading out the door.

The corridors were dim and nearly empty. Only a few late-night stragglers hurried through the passageways, eyes heavy with sleepiness. Prajuru padded softly into the hall, keeping his footsteps as silent as possible on the polished stone floor. The torches burned low in their sconces as he crept along, trying to stay as close to the shadows as possible.

Then he heard footsteps approaching. His heart jumped as he turned quickly around a corner, flattening his back against the rough stone. Slowly, he leaned back toward the hallway; just enough for one eye to peer around the corner.

It was another student, yawning drowsily over the neck of her oversized grey sweater as she clip-clopped her way down the corridor, book in hand. She didn’t give the tunnel so much as a passing glance as she hurried along to wherever she was going. Prajuru leaned his head against the wall, letting out a long breath of relief.

It was then that he noticed something had changed. Instead of the polished wooden panels that lined the walls near his dorm, these halls were nothing but rough stone. The sconces were rusty and far apart, stretching all the shadows into long fingers of flickering darkness.

These must be the siege tunnels, Prajuru thought, staring around. He spotted a pair of heavy metal gates, bolted to the walls with thick iron hinges. If the school was attacked, this would be where the students would go–into the passages beneath the mountain, guarded by these imposing gates. But right now the doors hung open, leaning passively against the wall.

Prajuru crept forward nervously. Everything was way too quiet for his taste. The air was thick with dust–nobody had been down here for years, it seemed.

The minutes dripped by as the young Ghreyja weaved through the winding tunnels. Something about this place made his scales ruffle, rising in waves under the fabric of his jacket. There were dozens of shelves and old buckles on the wall, places to hang weapons or store medical supplies. It was all deserted now, taken over by rust and age.

There should be a door here somewhere…Prajuru thought, shivering. Was that a bloodstain on the wall? …No, it was just a shadow…

Pacing down these corridors late at night, he couldn’t help but think who might’ve died down here. His mind conjured up images of ghosts and ghouls, tortured souls trapped from battles past, wandering these passages for all of eternity. Prajuru got the sudden sense that he was trespassing on something. An old graveyard, perhaps, where soldiers like him had gone to die…

“Hello.”

He jumped and whirled around, hand flying to the pocket that held his dagger. When he saw who had spoken, though, he stopped.

She was a tall, regal-looking woman of about middle age, with sharp cheekbones and piercing grey eyes. Waves of strawberry-blonde hair tumbled to her shoulders, streaked with lines of silver. They seemed a little windblown, like she’d been going somewhere fast. She wore splendid royal-blue robes that brushed the ground as she walked, and perched atop her head was a matching cylindrical hat. In one hand she held a half-eaten jelly donut, which seemed rather out of place amid all the perfectly ironed fabric.

“What are you doing out here so late, Ma’ai?” she asked in a soft, deep voice.

“I…uh…” Prajuru stood up and bowed. He didn’t know who this woman was, but she seemed like someone who demanded respect. “I’m looking for my satchel, madam. I…think I left it down here somewhere…”

“Why would you bring your bag back here?” the woman asked with a raised eyebrow. “Last I checked there aren’t any classes in the siege tunnels.”

“It was my sister, madam,” Prajuru said quickly. His mind whirred, trying to come up with a plausible story. The last thing he needed right now was to get dragged away by a teacher. “She’s a bit of a history fanatic. She wanted to show me all the…uh, equipment down here and stuff.”

He shifted uncomfortably, realizing he didn’t know the correct term for the buckles on the walls. The woman surveyed him with narrowed eyes.

“Would you mind giving me your name, Ma’ai?” she asked finally.

“Prajuru Serdad,” he replied, giving another small bow.

“Ah, yes,” the woman’s face softened a bit. “Your sister is Jepret Serdad, correct? Smart girl. I made sure she got all our best classes this semester. I expect she’ll go on to do good things.”

Prajuru blinked. He’d never heard someone talk about his sister like that. She wasn’t exactly the most magnetic person in their platoon.

“You know her?”

“No, not yet,” the woman replied. “But I work on all the schedules for incoming students, and your sister definitely stood out to me.”

“Might I…ask your name, madam?” He asked tentatively.

“Of course! I’m Kepala Aturan, headmistress of the DIERC.”

Prajuru’s heart skipped a beat.

“...Headmistress Aturan?” he asked softly. She nodded.

“That’s me.”

“...Oh my…” Prajuru shook his head, then caught himself, stretching his lips into a hopefully-somewhat-convincing smile. “It’s wonderful to meet you! It’s amazing what you’ve done here.”

“Why thank you!” Aturan smiled. “I do my best. It’s a pretty new establishment, so I haven’t gotten everything ironed out yet, but I’d say everything’s going well so far! Are you enjoying your classes?”

“Yes! Well, I think so. It’s only the first day, y’know,” Prajuru shrugged. “We haven’t done much other than the review yet.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll get more interesting as time goes on,” Aturan remarked, taking a bite of her donut. There was a bit of an awkward pause as she chewed. Prajuru wondered if he could slip away without drawing suspicion.

“I should probably get going,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the corridor behind him. “It’s getting late and I need to find my bag.”

“Oh! Yes, go ahead,” Aturan smiled. “I just came here for a late snack–I should head back, too.”

“It was nice to meet you!” Prajuru called, bowing one more time. “Oh, I think you got some jelly on your robes…”

The headmistress followed his gaze to a dull reddish stain on the hem of her clothing. “Ugh…every time I wear something nice…thank you, Mat-Serdad. Have a nice night! Hope you find your bag!”

Prajuru waved as she turned the corner, the smile falling from his face as soon as she was out of sight. Guilt twisted in his stomach. She seemed so nice…what would she think of him after tonight?

She raised that piece of work, he reminded himself as he continued down the winding corridors. If anything, she’s responsible for Jepret’s humiliation.

After a few more minutes of searching, he finally found the door. It was small and made out of dull grey wood, probably meant to camouflage against the stony mountains. He tried the handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked. He creaked it open as quietly as possible to reveal a narrow staircase leading upward. It seemed to have been built in an artificial channel cut into the rock.

Prajuru stepped forward, closing the door behind him. The stairs creaked as he made his way up, painfully aware of just how close the stone was on either side. As he neared the top, he could hear the wind whistling around the exit. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, bracing for cold.

The mountains did not disappoint. They blasted him with all their breath, sending whirls of screeching air past his face. His scales flattened immediately, sealing over his skin to conserve heat. The thin jacket he’d brought did virtually nothing against the violent winds, flapping uselessly around him like an extra layer of skin. He narrowed his eyes, trying to keep them from tearing up in the cold. It didn’t help that the wind caught in his hood, ripping it off his head and exposing his ears to the rushing air.

How am I supposed to hear anyone in this, let alone fight them? Prajuru thought, squinting around at the rocky landscape. It was barely visible, lit only by dim candlelight from the distant windows of the school. Dark clouds swirled around the mountain’s peak, hiding the moon from view.

Wrapping his arms around himself, Prajuru staggered forward. Berarti had to be waiting here somewhere, and Prajuru wasn’t about to leave just because of a little wind. Although…

It’s completely possible that he stood me up, he thought. And in that case I’ll be wandering around here forever, making a fool of myself while he stays inside, chuckling to himself.

Prajuru sighed, his breath coming out in a puff of cloudy steam. Should he go back, or keep looking? Either way, it seemed like he’d lost.

Suddenly, his boot made an odd splashing sound. Looking down, he noticed a pool of dark liquid gathered between the rocks. It looked like water, but…not. Prajuru leaned down, extending a finger to touch it. He jerked back in surprise. It was…warm. Not very warm, but definitely not cold. His heart pumped faster. Something was wrong.

He raised his head, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. Then he saw it; a dark mass, huddled in the rocks only a few feet away. He stepped closer, trying to keep his balance on the jagged boulders. The wind howled around him, trying to push him over. But he kept upright, eyes fixed on the unknown object as he stepped carefully toward it.

As he drew closer, he noticed something glimmering in the candlelight. Two small highlights, reflecting the flickering squares of glow coming from the school. Prajuru leaned forward, curiosity growing in his chest. Finally, he was close enough to tell what they were.

Eyes.

Prajuru stumbled backward, nearly losing his grip on the stone. But he regained his balance, turning and bolting down the mountain. The wind howled in his ears, screaming garbled syllables of air as he stumbled toward the staircase, pounding down the creaking steps. As he reached the bottom his shoe caught on the wood and he fell, scraping his palms against the rough stone. But he didn’t stop.

Wrenching open the door he fell into the tunnel, not bothering to close it as he scrambled to his feet. He broke into a sprint, leaving dark red footprints behind as he thundered down the corridor.

After what felt like an eternity of running, the stone finally gave way to wooden panels. Prajuru stared around, brain buzzing with panic. Jepret was all the way on the other side of the school…

Cyprus.

Prajuru turned and barreled toward room 24. When he reached it he finally stopped, slamming his fist rapidly into the door. The hall seemed to twist around him as he waited, squirming around like a reflection in a pond. Then, the door swung open.

“Prajuru?” Cyprus stood in the opening, pale and squinty-eyed with sleep. His hair stuck up in all directions, and he was wearing a pair of vibrant starry pajamas. “Wha–”

Prajuru couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. The world was swirling around him and every breath he took caught in his throat like barbed wire. He must’ve looked awful because Cyprus’ eyes suddenly snapped open.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?”

Prajuru stumbled forward, but he didn’t make it far before his knees turned to water. Cyprus caught him before he hit the floor, pulling him onto the bed.

“Okay, stay still. Breathe. It’ll be over in a few seconds,” he murmured.

Cyprus’ face distorted in front of Prajuru like a mirage. His breaths were quick and shallow, and his blood felt like it was turning to acid inside of him. Even still, he managed to form three short words:

“Berarti. He’s dead.”