The long drapings of Ayden’s trenchcoat seemed to shift and sway like smoke dancing in the wind. “I would say it's good to see you but that is entirely subjective.” Mikhailo spoke as he continued his private and guided tour of the campus with the teacher he would be shadowing for the next few weeks until he fully settled in. The tour led more like a museum guide rather than any similarity to friendly or familiar banter, with Mikhailo predominantly talking and his counterpart listening silently. No questions. No comments. Until there was a lull in the facts that Mikhailo could give about the school as they made their way through the garden.

“Are you wondering if I hold any bias towards you?” Ayden questioned suddenly.

“Well, the last time I saw you, you were crushed under the corpses of your mother’s guards.”

Ayden paused in his movements, causing Mikhailo to do the same and establish direct eye contact. There was a moment of almost crushing silence, similar to the weight that was just mentioned moments ago, before Ayden spoke, “Ancient history; although that was the image you were left with, you still recognized me at first glance.” His eyebrow raised.

“Was it not the same for you?” Mikhailo was being exceptionally cut and dry.

“Oh, it assuredly was.” There was an inflection in Ayden’s voice that made Mikhailo slightly uneasy and raised a few hairs on his arms, “Subjectively speaking, I suppose it is good to see you.” His eyes slowly turned towards the center of the garden. There, in pure twenty-four karat gold, stood a towering statue of Mikhailo’s father astride his noble steed with sword in one hand and Queen Dahlia’s head in the other, freshly cleaved from her body.

The silence was deafening; maddening.

Mikhailo was prepared to  run interference with Ayden’s possible arising emotions but was promptly silenced by cold and bitter words that heavily fell from his lips: “Historians love their statues.” He stared at the monument without blinking before he stepped away without another word or sound. Mikhailo had become so numb to that fact that the statue even existed; it never once crossed his mind that the Unseelie that would be sent to join their school in hopes of working towards permanent, everlasting peace, whoever it be, would have to look at such an inhumane depiction of one of their most beloved and prominent figures. But then again, why should it be humane? They were in fact not humane; not an ounce of human in them.

They were Fae.

This was the Fae way.

“Lovely.’ Mikhailo sighed as he rubbed his forehead in an attempt to brush away the ever-growing stress that was beginning to pile up. "Apologies, Dahlia; I’ll try to look after your son.” He muttered before following Ayden's footsteps.

He walked for a few moments before realizing the hallway was empty—too empty. The only way out was through or back and Ayden certainly did not turn back around. “Ayden?” He called out as he stood still and examined the hallway for any signs of this peculiar circumstance. 

Ayden continued walking down the hallway, slowly beginning to perceive the utter lack of sound and the flickering of the sconces on the wall turning a red hue. He halted in his footsteps and let out a small breath of air that resembled a faint amused chuckle. The sconces on the wall began to crystalize, then crack and break. The sounds and wails of a thousand different tortured souls flooded the halls as blood spilled from the melting crystalized fires. A symphony erupted with the song of battle and the smell of iron filled every centimeter of air—so thick it was almost suffocating. Ayden tilted his head to the side like a dog, trying to figure out what you want from it or what you are trying to say. His eyes followed the flow of flittering mana traces in the air caused by amateur spell casters casting outside of their depth of knowledge.

“Outstanding.” He smiled, “Very scary.” 

“First lesson.” Ayden’s lavender eyes became a deep blood red ruby color, momentarily, before they were slowly swallowed up by swarming black shadows. “Things that go bump in the night...” With a gust of wind, the multiple spells that were cast were diminished, and all the lights were smothered by darkness. “And their source.” The next screams that rattled the halls were very much real.