Darkness.
Surrounded by the emotions of those previously defeated, Abriel felt them kick and scratch at his exposed conscience. Those emotions, painted red and black, pounded against his head, threatening to spill from his eyes.
Reanimation in five…
A voice would always cut through the darkness. For some, it was a saving grace, meaning they’d get to go back to their peaceful lives.
Four…
For some, it was hated, a call back to a life that hadn’t been worth living for quite some time. A life they couldn’t give up because it was impossible to die on the grounds of the Daeva Institute, and even more impossible to get out.
Three…
Some went insane upon hearing those words. They despaired at returning, or they wanted to return too badly and were consumed by the need.
Two…
But for Abriel, it was a call to battle. It was the horn sounding on the eve of war. It helped the red bleach out the black, stirred his still heart, sparked his breathing- and fueled his fury. His heart began to beat, for the first time in three hours, and his fingers twitched. He wanted nothing more than to skewer something. Abriel wasn't usually picky about who he took out, but for once, he knew whose blood he wanted to see staining the ground; he’d show that damn new student not to mess with the big bad wolf.
One.
Abriel came back to life, air gushing into his lungs- and coming out in a furious cry. He came up swinging, sore muscles protesting. His sword had been taken away, but he had no need for it- flames grew from his hand, shaping themselves into a weapon, a sword more elaborate than the one he would have used on the boy on the lawn.
The fire in him burned hotter at the memory of the pain as the blessed bullet poisoned his blood, and Abriel blindly attacked those nearest to him. Cries of fear and pain filled his ears, bringing a smile of grim satisfaction to his face while blood arced through the room, splattering his clothes and his skin.
Abriel! Stop this foolishness!
He paused in his frenzy as the only voice that could break through to him resounded in his head, loud and commanding. Light on its feet, a black cat hopped up onto the cold steel table where Abriel had been laid out to await his animation. Familiar and master matched glares, the black cat cocking its head, its tail twitching with barely restrained anger, claws unsheathed and ready for use.
This is useless death. It doesn’t even raise your points. They’re not students.
Abriel glanced down at his wrist, narrowing his eyes at the double zeros that proved his familiar right. He’d been killing servant demons, ones who had broken the rules and failed out of the school, damning themselves to eternal servitude to other demons. An animalistic growl bubbled out of his throat, pure frustration. He’d been at ninety-five, the red numbers proudly declaring his prowess. To be reduced to the lowest of the low at the Daeva Institute- it was almost too much to bear, and the flames he wielded flared brighter.
Stop, fool!
Abriel started when he felt his familiar’s sharp claws dig into his nails. The biting pain pulled him out of the red haze of his hunger for revenge. Calmer, logic and rationality began to make a comeback, and the flames flickered in Abriel’s hand before dying all at once. A stillness that was even deadlier than his previous rage settled over him as he reached up a hand to wipe the blood from his cheek. He only smeared it, pulling his fingers away and looking at the sticky red that stained them with disdain before wiping them on his black pants.
“Are you through now, Abriel?” A frosty voice interrupted Abriel’s silent, disgusted rant about the filthiness of blood.
Abriel winced at the sound of the voice that had railed him out many times in his early years at the Institute. “My apologies, Master Rahil.” He didn’t bow, but it was a close call; he was so used to how he had to act in front of the other students that he often forgot his real status.
Rahil clucked his tongue at the younger demon, kneeling next to one of the bloodied bodies on the floor to check for a pulse. He didn’t really expect to find one, but the action was expected of him. Straightening, he raked a slender hand through his black hair.
“I’ll have to get somebody to clean all this blood,” Rahil said reproachfully, wiping the dead demon’s blood on the demon’s pants. It barely made a difference, as the pants were already stained with blood.
“I’m sure it’s a great difficulty, soiling your hands for somebody so far below you,” Abriel said, expressionless where he stood atop the steel table, looking down at the headmaster.
The headmaster met his eyes without flinching, even though he knew the power that lay in the unassuming demon with the almost permanent bad mood. “I have to wipe their memories too. We can’t let anybody know what you really are.”
"Does it really matter?" Abriel growled. It had always been a priority of the headmaster to conceal his tail and the color of his flames. “It's not like anyone at this school actually knows what any of it means.”
"Yes it does," the headmaster snapped.
"Why?"
"Don't you dare start this again, boy," the headmaster growled.
Abriel ignored the layered warning and instead did what he did best. "Really? Boy?” he scoffed, arms crossing over his chest as he looked down, “Well old man, let me tell you something. People my age aren't as smart as people your age."
"It's still too much of a risk."
"Yeah," Abriel scoffed. "It’s always too much of a risk. God forbid they find out I’m not an average student. Do you know how hard it is to keep my tail hidden all day?”
Abriel looked at the headmaster with a mix of anger and jealousy, his eyes finding the tail that the headmaster didn’t have to hide from his students. Rahil’s tail was akin to those humans drew on demons- long and skinny with a pointed tip, but it was ebony black rather than sinful red. It was actually a bit threatening, whipping through the air when he was pissed off- like he often was when dealing with Abriel. Abriel’s jealousy only grew at that, because he’d been told his tail was ‘cute’ by his real mother, the woman nobody could know about. Soft and fuzzy like a cat’s, his tail had a softly tufted end that burst into flame whenever he began to lose control of his anger- and his power.
Angry enough to risk disobedience, Abriel dug his fingers into the seam of his pants, ripping it open. It would have been embarrassing if it was an accident, ripping the rear of his pants. Instead, it was a welcome relief as he was able to wiggle his tail out of its confinement. It lashed the air a few times, and he sighed happily at the freedom of it, making a pleased sound as he was finally able to scratch along its length.
“Damn it, Abriel! I could have had them re-tailored!” Rahil shook his head angrily.
“That would have taken too long,” Abriel said simply, the pleased smile firmly in place as he hopped down from the steel table. “Plus, the uniform itches,” Abriel complained, his tail curling around his fingers as his mouth twisted at the memory of the itch he could never scratch.
Rahil rubbed at his temple with the tips of his long fingers, thin mouth in a tight line. Dealing with Abriel had been hard enough when the demon was relatively happy. But the new student had just ruined everything; Abriel had almost been out of Rahil’s hair, but with the demotion, Rahil had to put up with a pissed off demon who had powers even he didn’t understand.
“Fine. Just… fine,” Rahil sighed.
“Mace!” Abriel held his arms out, and the cat leapt into them. Mace was the only creature alive that could have nuzzled Abriel’s face like that and kept their head- Abriel even looked happy to have the low level beast demon in his arms.
“I don’t know how I live with you,” Rahil grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the boy.
Abriel laughed at him, an almost innocent sound. “You know you couldn’t live without me,” he replied with a cheeky grin.
Rahil only narrowed his eyes; Abriel never acted so cheerful and carefree. Then he realized why his problem student was so happy. Abriel had his eyes on his sword where it leaned against the wall, and hatred still burned in his eyes, almost hidden by the careful happiness he’d thrown up to mask it.
Rahil didn’t say anything as Abriel retrieved his sword, attaching the belt to his waist and adjusting the scabbard so it lay just right. Mace dropped to the floor by his feet, taking up his silent shadow position as he usually did. Abriel checked himself over, and lashed his tail through the air just for the satisfaction of feeling it move air, before heading for the door.
“Abriel.”
The soft sound of his name made him pause, curious.
“Stay away from Zakeri. He’s dangerous.” Rahil’s eyebrows drew together, revealing his concern- but something told Abriel it wasn’t concern for him. It was concern for that damn silverette.
Abriel snarled at him, lip curling. “Not a chance,” he sneered. Rahil just sighed, his eyes cast to the floor and shoulders slumping like Abriel had just cursed his name and spat in his face. Abriel wasn’t satisfied with it, but he wasn’t going to wait around and let Rahil convince him to leave the silverette alone; he headed for the door again, determined to leave that time no matter what Rahil said.
His hand was on the knob when Rahil finally spoke. “Go to class, Abriel. And remember- the classes are a safe zone. Unless you’d like to be demoted to the servant class, and I don’t believe your birth mother would be happy with that, keep your temper and leave your revenge for later.”
“I know that,” Abriel snapped, scowling at Rahil. His headmaster maintained his calm expression, meeting Abriel’s challenging glare until Abriel gave up with an exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’ll give it until after dinner.”
The door slammed shut behind the young demon, and Rahil slumped against the wall, letting his breath come out in a relieved sigh. The other students wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire unprepared- he’d been able to do that much. But there was no stopping the battle between the star student and the specially admitted prodigy. That battle was inevitable. Rahil could only hope they didn’t destroy the entire school in the process.
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