I jumped in my seat as Lorthew Magnus slammed his wrinkled hand over the page I was reading. He was a big ugly man, with a long gray beard and a glint in his eye that sent ants running along my body.
His smile was cruel as he eyed me up and down. “Perhaps you might be able to refresh us on how to make Golden Paste and what it is used for? Or do I have to see you in my office after class?”
He was a dirty old man, everyone girl in the Wilkreth monastery knew it. The worse thing that could happen was being sent to his office alone with him. I racked my brain for the alchemic base for Golden Paste. Daisies…...no. Lillies? No, not that either. Every student in the room had their eyes trailed on me. “Is it smashed Goldenseal root used to treat infections in open wounds?”
I wanted to correct myself the second the answer left my lips. Beside me, my friend Gajeel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at my own stupidity. His other hand threaded through his dark green locks as his amber eyes glared at our teacher. Lorthew Magnus smiled wide. “Ground Goldenseal leaves aremeant to seal open wounds.”
His eye’s studied me hungrily. “Stay after class Samara.”
He shot me one final look and continued his lesson on the alchemic properties of Goldenseal and Lily concoctions. My foot twitched anxiously as I watched the time dais in the corner inch closer and closer to noon. Of all the classes I’d wished would pass faster, this was not one of them. I toyed with the hem of my plain tunic when Lorthew Magnus dismissed the rest of the class.
Gajeel packed his books slowly, staying by my side as long as he could. “Today Mr. Avertin.” Lorthew Magnus leaned against his desk, hands tucked into the belt of his tunic.
“I’ll get Madam McEnery, don’t worry, just hang tight.” He whispered. Without a second thought he rushed off, leaving me completely and utterly alone.
“Come here Samara,” Magnus beckoned me towards him. His thick neck folded into a triple chin as he watched me inch forward until I was hardly a foot Infront of him.
I had heard stories from the other girls, the one’s who usually got into trouble. Of the horrible things he did to them. This was a first for me, I had never gotten an answer wrong before. I crossed my fingers, hoping I would only receive a lecture. But the look in Lorthew’s eyes told me my hope was misplaced.
“I am disappointed in you Samara,” His hands rested on my shoulders, gently caressing my neckline. “A beauty like you, with the proper education you could even work in the king’s council one day. Wouldn’t you like that?”
I swallowed hard as he tugged my sleeves down my shoulders, letting it rest just above my breasts. It was only a little more skin than I was used to, but I already felt naked. “Yes, Lorthew Magnus.”
He trailed a still finger across my collar, tracing the fragile bone. “Your skin is so clear and pristine,” he muttered. “If I didn’t know you were a lowly orphan, one might’ve mistaken you for a noble.”
My stomach twisted, a rotten taste settling over my tongue. His words made my blood burn. I needed no reminder who I was, one couldn’t forget that they’ve no parents. I grit my teeth as his fingers fiddled with the first button of my tunic. “I never knew you to be such an obedient little whore, perhaps you would do better working at the brothel, I’m certain many young lads would pay a heavy price for a piece of you.”
“Shut up!” I seethed, kissing my teeth as my nails dug into my palms. “I’m not your whore!”
Magnus chortled, cupping my decently sized breasts in his hands. He leaned into my ear, grazing the lobe with his lips. “Then why can I do this?”
Because you’re a Lorthew, I thought to myself. Because one word from you and I’d never see the inside of these walls again. Never hold another book in my hand. Because Madam McEnery had to pull more than a few strings to enroll me in this school.
His hand caressed my hip, almost lovingly. It was a second later when I realized he wasn’t caressing me, he had gathered a fistful of my tunic and yanked it down hard. The material fell to my waist, catching on the curve of my hip. I was barely seventeen, but I had known he was watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake. Ever since the day I received my blood in his class at twelve. He had been patiently waiting for this day, I could see the hunger he had held on to for so long in his eyes.
The sick bastard studied me, rubbing his wrinkled hands over my nipples. The cold mad them red and erect, which he mistook as arousal.
This was my own fault. I knew that. I hadn’t been paying attention to his lesson, now I was paying the price for it. Nobody cared what happened to me, I was an orphan. I had no parents to complain to the headmaster, no power for anyone to believe me if I tried to accuse him myself.
His hands trailed down my hips, pulling the fabric down until it fell to a heap on the floor. My skin felt jittery under his gaze.
I prayed to the gods, the sky, to anything that would listen as the cold air nipped at my skin. “Please let me go home.”
“Home?” Magnus cackled. “There’s no going home just yet. We’re not finished here.”
“Please stop,” I shut my eyes, feeling his chapped lips against my neck, trailing down. “Stop!”
Boiling hot anger toasted my body against the cold. I tried to focus on it, concentrating on the comfort it brought me. Lorthew Magnus suddenly released me, a gasp ripping from his chest. I opened my eyes to see what had happened. He stood there, braced against his desk, cowering away from me. His eyes were wide, almost terrified.
“Y-you-Get the hell out of here,” He raised a shaky hand to me. “Get out!”
He charged at me, his thick round hands clasping around my neck. Shadows lunged from the corners of the room, grabbing on to him with the force of ten men, jabbing him into every direction. I wanted to scream, run out the door for help. But I couldn’t look away. His horrified screams abruptly stopped as the shadows poured down his throat, his veins running black. He dropped to the ground and in seconds it was all over. The shadows retreated to the corners as if they had never moved.
Magnus didn’t get up, and I didn’t need to move to know why. His blood had turned black, thick like the shadows themselves. It poured from every crevice, every opening in his face. His eyes were probably the worst, lifeless, painted in black venom.
The shadows of the room loomed over me, calling, beckoning me to join them. “Samara.”
“-amara-“
“-SAMARA WAKE UP!”
270Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2dagyvRQsD
I practically launched myself from my seat, body doused in cold sweat. I nearly cried as it dawned on me that it was all a dream, a terrible and strange dream. Madam McEnery stared down at me, arms folded across her chest.
“Samara,” she growled.
Her hideous face twisted into an even uglier scowl. At least, I was almost entirely sure she was scowling. Her face always looked like that. I kept my gaze fixed courteously on the dirt floor of the shack the monastery allowed her to use for her classes. Madam Gurdurt hated it when people stared at her. The warts on her face always distracted them from the conversation.
“How many times,” the old hag continued, her tone sharp, “Have I told you to pay attention in my class?”
Too many to count.
My hand rested on the ragged, deer skin satchel on my hip, out of fear that Madam Gurdurt would try to burn another one of my precious stories as a punishment. Madam McEnery sat by her desk at the far end of the room. She pretended to busy herself with grading our reports on the agriculture of the first era, which I had also forgotten to do.
“Tell me you at least,” Madam Gurdurt pressed her lips to her teeth. “Finished your report?”
I waited a beat and tried to come up with a valid reason on why I hadn’t done it: I overslept; I lost it; it’s boring; a dragon stole it because it was truly a treasure to behold. No, none of my usual excuses would do this time. Much to my horror, I contemplated telling her the truth for once.
“Well, you see- “
“ENOUGH!”
I closed my mouth, my teeth smacking together with a tink.
“I have heard too many lies come out of that mouth of yours! Let me guess? Did a fairy take it?” She hissed, spit flying everywhere. “Or you left it in Leon’s shop? Ooh, how about the one where Gajeel eats it?”
But Gajeel had eaten my report once. She knew that too.
Gajeel, my lovable, green-haired friend, had a knack for eating not so edible things-by no mental defect of any kind, mind you, he did it just to prove that he could. One time, when we were ten, I had told him that river lilies couldn’t cure ink poisoning. To prove me wrong, he had eaten the report I had worked on all night, as well as a handful or fresh river lilies his father had growing in his greenhouse. I was right (as usual), and Gajeel was sick for a month from the poisoning.
I opened my mouth to defend myself but Madam Gurdurt was prepared. She whipped out her thin, leather riding crop she kept tied to her belt. A shock ran down my spine as she flicked it in warning. I could still feel the stinging from scars previous lashes had given me.
Madam McEnery, being the savior she is, cleared her throat loudly and stepped forward. Her long, silver hair was piled into a giant bun on top her head, it swished in tune with her long, amber robes. “I will see you at home, Samara. Madam Gurdurt and I have a meeting to attend.”
I sighed in relief, thankful beyond words for the Godsend: Madam McEnery.
“I want it finished and turned in by tomorrow,” Madam Gurdurt scoffed. I opened my mouth to complain that one day was not enough time. I had to gather research; outline the assignment; let the ink dry, which by itself was at least four to five hour without powder. Madam Gurdurt flicked her wrist and the crop slashed across my cheek. It stung, but not as bad as my back would have if I hadn’t kept quiet.
I bowed my head and drew my cloak tight against me, immediately fleeing the schoolhouse. Like most Sardathelian’s who braced the year long winter, the cold didn’t often bother me, But even I thought that day was particularly cold.
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