Tal glanced around in confusion. He had landed inside a small room, an office with not much more than a desk, a chair, and bookshelves along one wall. The room didn’t have a window and the only light came from lit lanterns that hung on all four walls. They didn’t illuminate much but it was enough for Tal to take in his surroundings and it was way better than waking up in a fully dark cave.
He got up from the ground and leaned against the wall for support. Tal’s legs were shaking and his ankle throbbed. The effect of the painkillers was now completely gone. He should have taken some with him before heading to Mr. Hemlock’s place but he’d underestimated his injury. The desk in front of him was neatly organised, the bookshelves next to him clean and tidy. Whoever owned this office must have been here not too long ago. There was no dirt on the ground, no big gatherings of dust. He hopped towards the mahogany desk and picked up the folder that lay on top of a few loose papers. Tal ignored the rest. Only the folder had caught his eye. Especially the name of it.
“Contrarius”
He furrowed his brows and turned the folder a few times in his hands, searching for more clues. “Like the evil order.” Could this be a weird coincidence, or did he actually teleport himself into the office of the Contrarius Order? “What kind of evil order has an office?” Just then Tal noticed that the desk chair was designed to look like a makeshift throne. It reminded him of the cover art for the popular TV Show Game of Thrones. Whoever sat there sure was cocky. “Makes sense.” Tal sighed and while leaning against the bookshelves lowered himself until he hit the ground. He prepped the folder up on his legs and flipped through the pages. Most of the documents were either censored or written in an ancient language that he didn’t understand.
He was about to give up and put the folder away when he found the protocol of a ‘Hunt’ from twenty years ago. His heart started beating faster. “Catching the Descendant I”, it read. The document was partially censored and a big “Mission failed” sticker covered most of the first page. At the edges however someone scribbled down notes about the mentioned hunt.
‘My fault. Must catch the descendant.’
Beneath it were a couple of comments about the possible appearance of the descendant. About Tal.
‘age: Between nineteen and twenty, height: around average heighted parents, most likely between 170-180, appearance:’
There was a sketch of a boy that thankfully looked nothing like him. At least he knew now they were searching for the wrong person. He exhaled deeply in relief but his breath caught in fear either way. The notes weren’t that far off. He was twenty years old and barely scratched the 1,75m mark. “Scary enough.” He mumbled to himself and shuddered. Tal ripped out the page and crumbled it into a small ball to hide it in his jacket. He hoped that no one would notice it missing. As far as he could see there were no cameras so he should be safe from getting recognized. No weird sounds, no sudden footsteps. No one was coming. Yet.
He was alone in the office of the leader from the evil order and had no idea how to return to Mr. Hemlock. “Shit.” Mr. Hemlock. How long had he been gone? The director has probably noticed that he was missing by now. He will think that Tal ran away. Just like the rest of them. Tal wrapped his arms around his legs and pushed them close to his chest. He hugged himself and closed his eyes to fight the oncoming anxiety attack. “Take me home, please.”
This whole day was a mess. He felt like one. First the injuries, then the fight with Nik and Scar and now he also managed to disappoint Mr. Hemlock beyond measure. He broke their promise.
“Promise me, no more hospitals.”
“I promise. And you promise me, Tal, don’t run from me.”
“I promise.”
He held himself tighter and opened his eyes. They were slowly tearing up and he rubbed a soothing circle against his chest with one hand. What else would the director think when he opened the bathroom door, found a shattered phone and an open window? If it was Tal, he’d assume he’d run away, too.
His whole past would repeat itself. He’d have to see Mr. Hemlock’s crestfallen expression and listen to his desperate requests for explanations. After a while he would give up and then it would be over. Tal would be thrown out of the Academy, out of his home. Neither Nik nor Scar would miss him. The students would whisper what they have always whispered. Maybe he would break then. Maybe he would give up on it all.
“Why can’t I be normal?” He cried and let out a quiet sob. “A normal guy,” he continued. “with a normal family and a normal crush. A normal life, that’s all I ever asked for.” Tal lifted his head to stare up at the ceiling. “Why must you be so cruel? Why make me the descendant? Why take me away from my family? Why do I have to be what you chose for me?” He wiped his cheeks dry. “Who gave you the right to mess with our lives – with my life?” Tal shook his head and took a deep breath. Cursing the gods wouldn’t help him. If he was unlucky it would only make it worse.
Multiple scenarios forced their way into Tal’s head. He thought about not making it out and time and being caught. In another he would return but Mr. Hemlock saw and left him anyway. The third one might have been the cruellest one in which Tal managed to teleport to Nik but was rejected and slayed by the person who promised him safety and comfort.
Tal almost sobbed and held his head. He had to stop thinking. The scenarios were getting worse with each second that he was stuck in the office. Should he try to open the door and sneak outside? No, someone could see him, there could be cameras or even an alarm system. It involved too many risks but if he didn’t find a way back home soon he’d come up with at least fifteen more of those scenarios. “Please,” Tal begged. “Take me home, already.” For once, his body showed him mercy.
Comments (2)
See all